“I’m not going anywhere until I find Grace.”
“Josh, please let me go before this gets out of hand.”
He hesitated, then released her, his expression a mix of fury and pain. She hurried toward the main dressing area and found Isaac blocking the rear door as if he were guarding the president.
“Stop yelling,” she ordered.
“What in the fuck, Grace? What are you—” He broke off, his gaze shifting over her shoulder, and by the look in Isaac’s dark eyes, she knew Josh had come out. “Marx, what in the fuck are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Philadelphia.”
Grace stepped up to Isaac and pushed him backward. “Let’s talk about this outside,” she ordered. “Now.”
“You lied to me, you fucker.” Isaac stabbed a menacing finger toward Josh. “You told me she wasn’t stripping.”
“I’m not stripping, Isaac.”
“Then why are you dressed like a hooker?”
“Do you hear those sirens, Isaac?” she asked. “Those are coming for you. And I sure as hell won’t be bailing you out. Now take this outside, or I’ll let them take you to jail.”
Isaac spun on his heel and stalked through the door, shoving Theo aside.
Grace squeezed Theo’s forearm and murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll be right here in case you need me.”
Josh pointed at Theo. “You’re going up front to steer the cops clear. If you don’t, things will get extremely ugly. I’ve got this handled.”
Theo’s worried gaze darted through the open door.
“Now, dude,” Josh demanded. “Go.”
When Theo turned and hustled toward the front of the club, Josh slipped off his watch and handed it to Jasmine. “In three minutes—three”—he tapped the watch face—“you create some kind of emergency to get Grace inside.”
Jasmine nodded. “Got it.”
Josh stepped outside, where Beck and Grace stood four feet apart, arguing. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, Beck looked almost the same as he had the last time Josh had seen him: tall, chiseled, dark, and sporting a few scrapes and bruises on his face and forearms.
Beck swept a hand up and down, gesturing to Grace’s body. “What is this? Who are you? What happened?”
“The same thing that always happens when you’re gone, Isaac. Life happens. I grow and change, and you come home the same judgmental asshole.”
“Maybe because those changes aren’t for the better.”
“Says you. But the funny thing is, it’s my life. Not yours, not ours, mine. Good or bad, they’re my changes to make.”
“I care about you,” Isaac implored in a way Josh knew was true. Beck wasn’t a bad guy; he was just dense and self-absorbed. “I want the best for you.”
“Then leave me to live my life. You coming here creating drama is not best for me.”
Beck rubbed his face with both hands, and his gaze landed on Josh. “I trusted you, you fucker.”
“I did exactly what you asked. And Grace is perfectly fine. I didn’t lie to you.”
“Don’t fuckin’ split hairs with me, asshole. And what the fuck are you still doing here?” He gestured to the tool belt around Josh’s waist. “What’s that about?”
Josh opened his mouth to answer, but Grace spoke first. “He’s helping me build a studio, Isaac. I told you, I’m teaching, not stripping. Josh believes in my abilities. He doesn’t try to stuff me into the box of a twenty-two-year-old and keep me there.”
Oh…shit… Just as Josh had expected, Beck read between the lines. His body stilled. His gaze darted between Grace and Josh, disbelief and anger mounting in his expression. “Wait… Are you two…?” Reality hit. His expression turned murderous, and he straightened, hands balled into fists at his side. “Are you fucking my wife, asshole?”