Wicked White
Page 16

There’s only four of them, and I’m angry enough that I might have a shot at getting a few good punches in before his buddies tear me off him. The prick needs to be taught a fucking lesson in manners. Ultimately, I decide to bide my time until I can get him alone, wanting to keep things private. A roomful of witnesses won’t be ideal.
The rest of the night Iris keeps jumping up to the bar and taking shot after shot in between songs while I notice Birdie restrains herself, probably seeing as how she has to drive back home. The two women never notice me in the bar. Turns out I’m pretty good at hiding if I don’t want to be found, but I keep my watchful eyes trained on Iris and the guy who got a little rough with her earlier.
I’m not a fan of touching anyone without permission. It’s an invasion of privacy—one I know about all too well. Guys like this douche bag from the bar are the type of people who decide if they want something from somebody, they’ll just take it. I lived in a couple foster homes where the people that were supposed to be my protectors felt they had the right to lay their hands on me, some even sexually. It wasn’t until I got placed with Sarah that I felt safe and learned not everyone did that. That’s why I vowed to myself that I’d always protect vulnerable people when I could.
Still stewing, I keep my eye on the group of guys, allowing my protective jealousy to cloud my mind, which makes it impossible for me to forget how he pawed her earlier.
When he detaches himself from the group, I double-check that Iris and Birdie are now sitting safely at a corner booth before I follow him into the men’s room.
He stumbles as he makes his way over to the urinal and I lock us inside the restroom. Alone. I pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and begin to stalk my unsuspecting prey.
Without warning, I rush over and grab the back of his head and slam his forehead into the wall. A loud thud echoes around the tiny room and his hat falls to the floor by our feet.
“Ah, oh,” the drunken man cries as he covers his face with his hands, but he doesn’t look directly at me, merely squeezes his eyes shut as he’s riddled with pain.
I grab a fistful of his hair and yank his head back so I can whisper in his ear, “You should think twice about putting your hands on a woman without a fucking invitation. The next guy you run into might not be as nice as me.”
I shove his head forward and he stumbles a bit as I turn and rush out of the small, urine-smelling room.
IRIS
I raise the “purple hooter” shot to Birdie as the tingle of all the alcohol I’ve consumed tonight washes through my entire body. “To the bestest friend a girl could ever ask for. Birdie, I love ya!”
“Oh, God. Now I know you’re toasted.” Birdie laughs and rolls her brown eyes.
I close one eye to bring her better into focus. “How?”
She grins. “When you start telling me that you love me, I know you’re at your limit. You’re such a happy drunk.”
I press the glass to my lips and throw my head back as I drink the contents of the glass down in one shot and then giggle, clapping my hands. “One more.”
Birdie shakes her head. “No way! I’m not carrying your drunk ass home tonight.”
I stick my tongue out at her. “Party pooper.”
She pushes her way out of the booth we’re sitting in. “One more dance, and then let’s hit the road. I’ve got to come back here tomorrow to work.”
We make our way out on the floor and grind together as we laugh and sing along to the music. The only semidecent-looking guy to come on to me tonight was a total creeper and disappeared after I shoved him away when he got a little handsy while whispering he was going to fuck me raw behind the building. I’m no slut and I don’t appreciate being treated like one.
Birdie glances around the bar. “There are absolutely no cute guys here.”
I turn to take in the faces around me to confirm Birdie’s complaint when my eyes land on a pair of warm brown eyes trained on every move I make.
Ace leans casually against a large black column as he sips a beer while openly watching me. I don’t know how I missed him before. The black hooded sweatshirt he’s wearing must’ve hidden him in the shadows of the club. His hair is styled in the same disarray of sexiness that he typically rocks while those damn sexy blue jeans hang low on his hips. I swear the man gets sexier every time I see him.
Birdie stops dancing and follows my line of sight before gasping. “How long has he been here?”
I bite my bottom lip, finding it extremely difficult to tear my eyes away from his intense stare. “I’m not sure. I just spotted him.”
She grabs my arm and leans toward me, yelling over the music, “I thought you said he wasn’t coming?”
I shrug. “That’s what he told me.”
“Looks like he changed his mind,” she says.
“It appears so.”
Instinctively, my body pulls itself in his direction. It’s so superficial to say this, but the first thing I always notice about Ace is how insanely beautiful he is. The next thing is his intensity. He’s always so focused and serious, and it’s very alluring. I want to know his secret. I want to know what he’s hiding, and why he’s so hot and cold with me.
“Iris? Where are you going?” Birdie asks as I take a step toward him. “Don’t you think it’s a bit stalkerish for him to come here and not approach you, but just stare at you like that?”
I pull away from her grasp and laugh as I try to reassure her. “I invited him. I’m glad he’s here.”