Harmony and High Heels (Fort Worth Wranglers 2)

fifteen years of Krav Maga had taught him the most efficient way to hurt someone. And for some reason, seeing his old family circling Harmony like a bunch of hyenas definitely put him in the mood to hurt a lot of someones.

“Put me down. Now.” Harm punched and kicked.

“Not until you settle down.” He carried her over to Cherry Cherry. “You need to learn not to pick fights you can’t win, little girl.”

“What the fuck did you just call me?” Harm demanded, redoubling her efforts to beat the hell out of his back and kick him in the balls.

“Stop it,” he ordered again, delivering a swift smack to her leather-clad ass. The sound made a nice pop in the night air.

It must have done the trick, because Harm stopped kicking and punching. He was just about to congratulate himself when a burning pinch came from his lower back. The burn quickly turned into flaming pain.

“What the hell?” He dropped Harm on her ass. “Did you just bite me?” He looked over his shoulder, trying to see if she’d drawn blood.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill you.” With that proclamation, Harm popped up onto her feet and nailed him with a mean right cross.

Jesus. She wasn’t a firecracker, she was a hellcat.

He grabbed her, went to put her in a restraining hold, and she easily twisted out of it.

“Krav?” Dalton choked out as she twisted his arm behind his back. If she didn’t stop, she’d break his wrist.

“Level-four black belt.” Harm released his arm. “You?”

“Level two.” Dalton stood, ears ringing as it registered that she could kick his ass.

“You shouldn’t bite people.” He rolled his shoulder—she’d damn near dislocated it.

“You shouldn’t pick up strangers in a bar.” Harm crossed her arms and smirked at him.

But before he could say anything else, Heath ran out of the bar, pulling Lyric behind him. “Time to go.”

Dalton tried to open the passenger door, but it was locked. “Unlock it.”

“It is unlocked.” Heath didn’t slow down until he was next to Cherry Cherry. He hit a button on the remote, but the doors didn’t unlock. “Come on, Cherry Cherry. This is an emergency. We need to get out of here now.”

Nothing happened.

“Come on, baby. Harmony needs a ride, just his once.” Lyric was cajoling. “I promise I won’t let her hurt you.”

Cherry Cherry’s trunk popped open.

“I’m not riding in the trunk of that possessed car.” Harm rolled her eyes when the doors remained firmly locked. “Screw it. I’m going back inside.”

“That’s not a good idea.” Heath leaned over and whispered something close to the car window and the doors unlocked. “We gotta go now. I set a little fire in the bathroom to distract them so we could get away.”

“How big of a fire?” Dalton wrenched open the back passenger’s door and practically threw Harm inside before he jumped into the front seat. Then he pulled out his phone to call 9-1-1. He might have walked away from them, but the Bastards were the closest thing he had to family. The last thing he wanted was for one of them to get hurt. Well, except BA. A little smoke inhalation could only improve his attitude.

Cherry Cherry peeled out of the parking lot and onto the road.

“I’d say a solid two alarm, but since the building is cinder block, the damage should be contained to just the bathroom.” Heath drove like the devil was on his ass—or like the Bastards of Hell were.

That made Dalton feel a little better. As long as he didn’t think about the fact that BA was going to be pissed as hell. Because all Dalton needed was his father’s biker gang trying to kill his brand new offensive coordinator and his family.

Damn it. He was going to have to find a way to make peace with the Bastards. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t know where to look for Heath. Tomorrow morning, he fully expected his stepbrother to be waiting outside of Lasso Stadium with guns drawn and an extra bad attitude. It was how he’d gotten his nickname, after all.

“How exactly do you know those guys so well?” Heath didn’t spare him a glance as he kept his eyes on the road and his foot down hard on the gas pedal.

“I grew up in the Bastards. My dad founded the club.” Yep, Dalton was biker royalty. He didn’t feel the need to go into his life with the gang any further.