Broken Warrior (The Weavers Circle 1)

On the bright side, the guy taking the stage had drawn the two nearest the front door farther into the club. Baer and Dane were moving to escape.

“And tonight has been amazing!” Grey continued. “The performances have been stunning. But I’ve got to say that tonight something even more wonderful has happened.” He paused and directed a disturbingly sappy smile at Clay. “I’ve finally met the man I want to marry.” The crowd ooohed and applauded. The security team even stopped at the edge of the stage, allowing him to continue. Clay’s eyes went wide. What the fuck?

The stranger chuckled. “Well, we haven’t technically met. I took one look at him and knew he’d been made for me.” He dropped down on a knee—one fucking knee—and extended a hand to Clay. “What do you say, honey? Let’s throw caution to the wind. Say you’ll be mine, and I swear I’ll give you the world.”

Out of the ether, a spotlight snapped onto Clay, and he swore he could feel his entire body flush. Every eye was on him, and it was hard to not glare at the man smiling at him. Around them, all the people in the nightclub started chanting, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Fucking lunatics, every last one of them.

To keep the farce going, Clay lifted both of his arms to the guy on the stage and smiled his best fake smile. “Yes!”

The man jumped to his feet and pumped his fist in the air once before hopping off the stage. He worked his way through the crowd, accepting pats on the shoulders and cheers with a smile, but his eyes held only warning and worry. They darted here and there around the club, and Clay knew he was tracking the same creatures that had been hunting all of them.

When Grey finally reached his side, the cheers had turned into a new chant.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Demanding motherfuckers.

Clay prayed that Baer had gotten Dane out of the club as he grabbed the back of Grey’s head and crushed their lips together. Where the stolen kisses with Dane had been pure heaven and dirty need, the kiss with Grey was awkward and uncomfortable. It should never have happened and was never fucking happening again.

As soon as the crowd cheered, Clay released him. He remained close so he could speak directly in Grey’s ear.

“Someone’s trying to kill me,” Grey whispered.

“I know.”

Grey jerked away and Clay rolled his eyes at himself. That was a stupid answer.

“I mean, they’re after me too,” Clay corrected, and Grey relaxed a little, but his eyes remained cautious. “Let’s go while everyone is still watching us.”

Clay wrapped his arm around Grey’s waist, and they moved through the club together, People smiled and cheered at them, others laughed. It was all one big joke, but at least it had drawn the pestilents’ attention to them rather than Baer and Dane. Clay could no longer see his companions in the crowd, so he was hoping they made it to the Jeep.

As they neared the front door, a pair of pestilents were standing close, sneering at them. At least they were refraining from trying to make a scene with this many people. They stood just as big of a chance of getting trampled in the crush as Clay and Grey.

At the last table, Clay snatched up an empty beer bottle by the neck. Shoving Grey through the open doorway first, Clay smashed the bottle over one pestilent’s head and then stabbed the jagged neck into the throat of a second. Chaos exploded around him, but he didn’t stick around for it.

He and Grey ran to where Baer had parked the Jeep.

“Who the fuck are you?” Grey demanded.

Yeah, they had a lot to talk about, to figure out.

But he knew one thing for sure. He and Grey would never be able to show their faces in The Backdoor Club again.Chapter 9Clay nearly laughed to see Baer and Dane in the Jeep at the entrance to the small garage they had parked in a couple of blocks from the nightclub. With escape at their grasp, Clay looked over his shoulder to find a trio of pestilents falling out of the club to give chase. Not a shock. The insanity he’d caused at the entrance was going to hold them up for only so long.

“There!” Clay shouted at Grey, pointing to the Jeep.

The other man didn’t say a word. Just nodded and picked up his pace, his long legs eating up the distance so that he was pulling ahead of Clay.

Thank God Baer had left the walls and roof off the Jeep. One foot on the bumper and one hand on the roll bar, and they were hefting themselves over the trunk and into the vehicle.

“And who’s the new friend?” Baer asked.

“Go! Just go!” Grey shouted.

“At least three made it out of the club,” Clay said.