Silver Bastard
Page 56

The world was full of assholes. Pissed me off.
I heard a motorcycle engine roar to life out front—sounded like Puck’s. I couldn’t tell for sure from here . . . Maybe not—he was probably gone already. Why did I feel so weak around him, yet some stranger groping me in a bar just made me mad?
Probably because the little prick inside couldn’t have been a real threat if he tried. He wasn’t a biker or a badass or even a real man. Just a spoiled brat who thought having rich parents made him better than other people. Five minutes later I’d managed to calm down, so I stood and dusted off my butt before stepping back inside. I passed Teresa’s office and then pushed back through the “Staff Only” door into the bathroom hallway.
Prince Handsy was waiting for me, a shit-eating grin splitting his face.
“How about a kiss?”
Oh, no fucking way.
No. Fucking. Way.
He lunged for me and I lifted my knee, catching him in the balls with the fury of an avenging angel. He screamed like a baby. Darcy burst out of the women’s bathroom, eyes wide.
“You okay?” she demanded, taking in the scene.
“I’m great,” I announced, wishing I’d taken him down an hour earlier. Prick.
“What the fuck is going on back here?” Teresa demanded, crowding into the hallway. Behind her were Danielle and Blake and a whole bunch of other people, including the drunken redhead. She squealed and dropped to her knees next to her writhing boyfriend.
“She attacked him! Call the cops—have that little bitch arrested!”
That’s when the black-haired alpha-type student pushed his way through and grabbed her arm, jerking her back.
“Go wait by the car,” he ordered. She started to protest, but a death glare from him silenced her like a switch. Damn.
“We’ll talk in my office,” Teresa said to me firmly. “I’ll handle this.”
“Sure,” I said, the adrenaline of the attack fading just enough that I realized what I’d done. I was about to lose my second job in a week for fighting. How was that even possible? Every day for the last five years, I’d asked myself the same question—what would my mom do? Then I’d do the opposite . . . yet here I was. Fighting. Again.
“Everyone back off,” Darcy announced, her voice loud and full of authority. “This is none of your business, so get back to drinking.”
“He’s drunk and he’s been eyeing her all night,” the black-haired guy said to Teresa. “He’s already groped her at least once. I’m sure she was just defending herself.”
“I know,” Teresa said, meeting his eyes head-on. “I’m done with your shit. You can take your friends and get the hell out.”
Handsy moaned and sat up.
“Call the cops. I want to press charges.”
“You can talk to my shotgun,” Teresa replied flatly.
“No need,” Alpha Guy said smoothly. “He’s sorry for his behavior, and he’d like to leave a generous tip to apologize. He won’t be back. Get your ass up, fuckwad.”
He gave his friend a kick to emphasize the point, and we all watched as the asshole stood up slowly. To my astonishment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, sorting through the bills inside before he took out a fifty and held it out toward me.
“Try again,” Dark Hair snapped.
The asshole opened his wallet again, finding a second fifty.
“Now say you’re sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” he hissed.
“Go wait in the fucking car.”
With that, he gave me a nasty glare and started walking away painfully.
“I’m very sorry about that,” Dark Hair said. Strangely enough, he seemed to be directing the words toward Darcy, which didn’t make any sense but then again, none of it did.
“I’ll talk to Boonie,” she replied. “He’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks.”
I met Danielle’s gaze, my eyes wide. What the hell was that? she mouthed at me. I shrugged, because I had no clue.
“In my office,” Teresa repeated. The sinking feeling hit my stomach again. At least I’d made enough to keep my phone on before I got fired . . . “Everyone else, get back to drinking. It’s over.”
“Okay, tell it to me straight,” she said when we were inside, the door shut behind us. “What the fuck happened out there?”
“He’s been grabbing at me all night,” I said slowly, trying not to sound defensive. “The last time it happened, he stuck his hand between my legs. Danielle sent me outside to calm down, and when I came back he was waiting and made another grab at me. I had to defend myself.”
Teresa stared me down, her face thoughtful. Shit. This was it—she’d figured me out and now it would come . . .
“Okay,” she said finally. “So can you finish your shift? We can cover if you need to go home.”
What?
“I attacked one of the customers,” I reminded her, confused.
“No, a customer attacked you,” she replied, eyes hard. “I know we’ve got a reputation as a tough bar, but nobody fucks with my people. That boy’s lucky you got to him before I did.”
“Oh . . .” Wow. Hadn’t seen that coming. “Well, uh . . . I guess I can go back to work? I mean, I’m okay. He didn’t hurt me.”
“Great,” she said. “Get yourself a shot to smooth out the rough edges and then back at it. And don’t worry about that shithead bothering you again. Darcy will take care of it.”