Perfect Rage (Unyielding 3)

“I did.” He tensed and pulled back a bit so he could cup my chin. “But dancing with the guys I didn’t like.”

I was about to reply when I heard a commotion outside and I tensed, pulling out of his arms. “Connor. You should go. You can’t be here.”

He frowned. “You’re coming with me.”

I stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

I had, but I was shocked that he’d even think I’d just up and leave with him. “Umm, no. I’m not.”

He reached for me. I stepped out of his reach, which earned me a fierce scowl, the kind that Georgie had been talking about. “You’re not staying here with drunk assholes ogling you.”

I was a little drunk, okay, maybe a lot, and maybe that was why I half laughed when I said, “Ogling?”

His brows dropped dangerously low. “Yeah, ogling.”

And the last shot must have taken effect because I ignored his scowl and my pissed-off self re-emerged.

“Maybe I like being ogled?” I didn’t. Diego had ogled me all the time and I’d hated it. But I really hadn’t noticed guys ogling me. Again, that may have had something to do with the alcohol.

“You don’t,” he ground out.

I glared. “Fine, I don’t.”

He gave me a self-satisfied smirk. “Bike’s out front.” He grabbed my hand and headed for the door.

“No,” I protested, yanking back. He kept going, which meant he propelled me forward and since I was on high heels and tipsy, I stumbled after him. “Connor, I’m not going with you. Chess and London and… Georgie is here, too.”

He stopped fast while turning toward me and I banged into him. “I know exactly who the fuck you’re with. I know how many margaritas you’ve had. How many shots. And that there were three guys edging closer to you on the dance floor. And one who danced with you too fuckin’ close.”

Oh, Jesus. He was here all night watching me? That means he must have been at my house when London picked me up.

I wished my head wasn’t so fuzzy and I hadn’t drunk that last shot. I tensed as it hit me. “You’ve been in Toronto? You never left?” His silence said it all. He had. “You’ve been watching me for twelve days and you never came to me. Never said anything?”

“I told you.”

I was sobering up pretty damn fast as the adrenaline hit me. “Told me what?”

“That I can’t forget you again.”

I hadn’t realized I’d been stepping back until my butt hit the counter. “So, I’m supposed to get out of that you’re here watching me?” He remained quiet, so I went on, “You didn’t think I’d be worried? That I’d want to know if you were okay? That I’d want to see you?”

His jaw twitched and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m standing here now.”

Oh, my God. “Twelve days, Connor. Twelve days. And before that it was a month.” My stomach churned and suddenly I didn’t feel so good. Mental exhaustion, shock, anger, and alcohol did not mix.

“You haven’t quit working at the bar,” he said. “And you’re not taking photos.”

Did he really just say that? I was about to say that out loud when my attention was drawn to the door as a girl’s squeaky voice said, “Yeah, it’s locked. Some guy told me to fuck off.”

Uh oh.

Connor’s eyes shifted from me to the door and his entire body stiffened, arms uncurling, and hands forming into fists.

He stalked toward the door.

I ran after him, latching onto his arm. “Connor, stop. You can’t start anything. Please. Let me go out first.”

“Like hell you’re going first,” he replied and then placed his hands on my shoulders. “Stay behind me.”

“But you—”

“I’ll deal with it,” he interrupted.

Okay, this was one of those times where arguing was pointless. So, I did the next best thing to try to keep him from doing something that might land him in jail. I grabbed his hand, linking my fingers with his.

Connor flipped the deadbolt and opened the door. There was a crowd of girls and one guy who stood in front of them all. He was bulky, a muscular bulky, with a trimmed beard and shaved head. He was dressed in black pants with a black T-shirt with the bar’s logo in gold on the front.

His eyes ran the length of Connor, probably deciding if he could take him on, then shifted to me. “You okay, miss?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s my fault. I wasn’t feeling well and just needed a minute—”

Connor’s hand squeezed mine. I quickly glanced at him and his eyes were dark, mouth tight as he stared at the bouncer, his expression definitely threatening.

Connor had always been dangerous because he was trained to be, and with his muscled build, the tattoos on his arms, his scowl, he looked dangerous. But it had been more his attitude, the calm, controlled fearlessness.