Tainted Gold (Providence Gold 3)

Just as everything quietened down and the lyrics to Sweet Child Of Mine became easier to hear, Beau yelled, “You’re pregnant?”

That was when I heard a, “What?” followed by the smack of flesh on flesh, and then the thud of something heavy hitting the floor.

Confused, I turned around and saw Tate kneeling on the floor, with one of the regulars, Pervy McPervertson, real name Rob Robertson, standing next to him, grinning with blood coming out his mouth.

“Gotcha, bitch,” he sneered, snorting in a mouth of nose gunk and blood.

Tate’s eyes slowly lifted to meet mine, and then faster than I thought was possible when you were a mere human (versus an Avenger made of steel and superpowers), he stood up and hit Rob with an uppercut to the chin that sent him flying backwards, landing on a wooden table which split in half.

The table had just so happened to belong to Rich who rolled his eyes and moved back in time for Rob to land on the floor instead of on his legs.

“You’re pregnant?” Beau yelled, getting the attention of everyone now that the fight was over.

Looking back at Tate, I saw him looking at my stomach like he could see the pregnancy through my clothes.

Porcupine quills up my asshole. Welp, there goes the issue of breaking it to him… thirty years earlier than I’d planned.

TateFive minutes previously…

Lily had been serving a guy I’d gone to school with, Rob Robertson, when I’d first walked in. He’d had a worrying love of alcohol when we’d been in high school, a worrying love of alcohol when he’d come to graduation drunk, and he’d been drinking ever since. He was also a pain in the ass and a handsy fucker with the ladies.

Walking up to the bar, I’d caught his shoulder just as Lily had taken a step away from where she’d been standing focused on her drink, and he’d leaned over the countertop to leer at her ass.

Swinging around to look at me, he’d lifted his hand to high five me. “Check out the ass on that. You could fuck her all night, right?”

Thankfully, she hadn’t heard it as she walked past us, lost in her thoughts walking toward a table where a woman was sitting glaring at Rich. That’s all I saw of her, because I was too busy watching my own woman to really take onboard who Rich had pissed off now.

That was when a waft of her perfume hit me, and I suddenly remembered a shit load more about our night together. Her mouth on my cock, my mouth on her pussy, what it tasted like, what her nipples tasted like, how she felt on the outside, felt like on the inside…

“Those tits too, more than a handful. They could bounce in my face all night long. Bet she’s tighter than fuck,” Rob sneered, grabbing his crotch and thrusting it at her behind her back.

That got my attention. “Shut the fuck up,” I hissed, getting closer to him.

Either he didn’t get the warning that was clear in my tone, or he didn’t give a shit, because he carried on. “She’s a class piece though, bets you gotta spend some cash for that gash.”

I was done.

Pulling back my fist, I let it fly, hitting him right in the mouth and watching as blood trickled down his chin as he turned back to face me. Rearing back, he let his own fist fly, missing my face and hitting my shoulder which sent me into the chair behind me.

In every bar when there’s a fight, people do two things. They not only move themselves out the way, but they move their drinks out the way and protect those things like they’re made of gold, which is what happened on this occasion too. That meant that for a matter of seconds, the screeching of the feet of chairs on the floor filled the bar, masking the sound my fist made when it connected with Rob’s gut.

When it stopped, I heard the opening lyrics of Sweet Child of Mine and had a second to mourn the fact I’d missed the opening guitar bit of the song, but that ended when I heard a woman screech, “You’re pregnant?” from the table that Lily was sitting at. And I knew it was that table because I could see out of the corner of my eye that they were the only women in that area now because the others had moved closer to the door.

Just as I went to turn my head slightly further and a step toward her, Bastard McFuckerson’s fist hit me in the jaw and my legs gave out, leaving me on my knees on the floor.

I was a Townsend, and Hurst Townsend didn’t give his genes to a pussy, so all it took was two blinks where I inspected the grain of the wood while my head cleared. The clearing was also helped by Rob upping the ante on how much a fuckwad he was. “Gotcha, bitch!”