I spun to see Salmon-shirt walking up the side steps of the front porch. The hairs on the back of my neck started to prickle.
“My date's just in the bathroom,” I stated, looking at the door to the bar and suddenly finding it very far away. “He'll be back any minute.”
“Sure he will,” Salmon-shirt agreed. The stagger and red in his eyes said that he was definitely drunk. I swallowed hard as his three buddies came out from behind the bar and stood in the parking lot. One of them opened the door to a very expensive-looking car and pulled out a flask. As if they hadn't had enough to drink already.
“Please, I don't want any trouble,” I said, trying to figure out if I could make a run for the bar doors. I didn't want to appear to obvious, but I no longer felt safe out here alone. Everything about these men screamed spoiled, rich brats. They were all Chads, but with an unlimited supply of money. If they wanted something, they could just take it.
“It's no trouble at all, hot-stuff,” Salmon-shirt assured me. He strode toward me, putting himself quickly between me and the door to the bar faster than I had expected. I was trapped. “But you see, you embarrassed me in front of my friends.”
One of his friends yelled out something that sounded vulgar. My heart started to pound and my palms went sweaty.
He licked his lips and raised his hand, trying to brush a strand of hair out of my face. There was no way in hell I was letting him touch me, even if it was just to brush some hair away. I smacked his hand away from me as hard as I could.
“Touch me again, and I'll put you down,” I threatened. The forcefulness of my words caught me by surprise. It probably had to do with that he reminded me so much of Chad. That and the alcohol.
“Ooh,” he giggled. “I like a little bit of fight in my girls.”
He moved so quick I didn't have time to react. His hands went to my arms, pinning me to the wall and holding me there. I tried to struggle, but he was stronger than he looked. I kicked out with my legs, but I didn't have a good groin shot and he made sure to stay far enough away that my heels couldn't come directly down on his feet. Panic started to pump through me.
“You'll put me down, huh?” Salmon-shirt smirked. His friends laughed behind him, watching him and egging him on. “How about you go down?”
Suddenly, Bastian's hand was on the guys shoulder and the next thing I knew, Salmon-shirt was flying off the deck and into the parking lot. He landed with a thud in the dirt, looking up to see Bastian advancing on him.
Even from my position, Bastian looked terrifying. His big shoulders were outdone only by the massive snarl across his face. The scar running down his cheek caught the streetlamp light and made him look vicious and feral.
Salmon-shirt stood up, puffing his chest out and putting up his fists. Bastian waited for him to throw the first punch, dodging it easily before socking him squarely in the jaw.
Salmon-shirt went down like a sack of potatoes. His friends got very quiet.
“Get up,” Bastian commanded. His voice was low like thunder and just as menacing.
Salmon-shirt shook his head, holding his hand to his jaw. He didn't look quite so drunk or so brave anymore. He looked like a spoiled, petulant child.
Bastian grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. “I said get up,” Bastian snarled. Salmon-shirt was visibly quaking and turning a strange shade of pale green. Bastian tightened his grip on the salmon shirt. “Apologize to the lady.”
“Sorry,” Salmon-shirt whispered, looking anywhere but at me.
Bastian shook him like a rag doll and growled. “I think you can do better.”
Salmon-shirt looked up at me, fear and honesty pouring out of his eyes. His voice cracked. “I'm very sorry, miss.”
“Are you ever going to bother her or anyone like her again?” Bastian 's voice was so low and angry even I was frightened. Car tires squealed as Elijah peeled into the parking lot. Bastian lifted the man up higher, threatening to shake him again.
Salmon-shirt shook his head vehemently from side to side. “No, sir!”
“Good.” Bastian dropped him. Salmon-shirt went to his knees, tears running down his face. Bastian turned to face his buddies and gave them a death glare that should have killed each of them three times over. They each took three steps back and cowered a little.
It was over by the time Elijah came running up, ready to defend me and Bastian to the death. The whole thing had taken less than thirty seconds.
“Take care of this,” he instructed Elijah before running back to where I stood shaking like a leaf.
“Are you okay?” His voice lost all traces of the anger and violence that had been there just seconds ago. He took my chin in his fingers and looked me over, his eyes full of care and concern.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. I hadn't realized how strong he was. There was a fierceness and violence to him that frightened me, but when he looked at me, all I could see was the sweetness and kindness I knew from him.
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and escorted me down the stairs to the car Elijah had arrived in. The car was the same one as Charlotte and I had taken the last time I was at this bar. I decided that as much as I enjoyed the drinks
here, I didn't want to come back. Both times I had left had been in disaster.