"I'll be damned," a semi-familiar voice says from behind me. "Rain Noles without an entourage of Sterlings."
Ah, hell. Pete Mercer. Not who I want to see right now. He dated Tria for about three months until she broke things off. He stalked her to the point where—even though I hated her—I had my boys put an end to it. I never told Tria that I asked the guys to help her out, and I never want her to know, either.
"Pete," I mutter dryly, stepping away from his hold.
Where the hell are my boys?
I glance around, and I spot Maverick entangled with a girl, his back to me. Corbin is in a booth, a girl in his lap, and his eyes down her dress. Dale is talking to a girl at the bar, but his eyes aren't going anywhere toward me any time soon. And Dane is... missing.
"It's hard to dance with me when you're that far away," he says, grinning ominously as he clamps his hand around my wrist and forcefully pulls me to him.
He reeks of alcohol, cigarettes, and filth. His handsome appearance would deceive the untrained eye, because I know for a fact that he's a demon in disguise. I also know he hit Tria, even though her pride never allowed her to admit it.
"I really don't dance with abusive sons of bitches," I murmur petulantly, trying to free my hand from his.
"Well, good thing I don't want to dance with you, either. No one wants to touch your Frankenstein body. Had anything new replaced or lost these days?" I swallow hard, trying my best not to flinch as his dark, freaky eyes glare down at me. From this angle, he really does look demonic. "Where's your sister? Did she come here with you?"
He's after Tria. She's the bitch from hell, but I'd never let this asshole near her again.
"She's in New York. Why don't you fly out there and see if you can find her? It's a small city. Shouldn't take you but a few decades to check every nook and cranny."
His eyes glaze over angrily as he takes a step too close, invading my personal space.
"You're still a high-and-m
ighty bitch these days. Just tell me where she is. I need to talk to her."
"It's been seven years since she dumped you. Don't you think it's time to move on?"
"I spent five years in prison because of her. I think she owes me an apology."
What? When the hell did this happen? And why didn't I know about it?
"I think you deserve to have the hell beaten out of you," I hiss, seeing four walls closing in on us.
"Oh? And you think you can manage that?"
I smirk, keeping my secret for just a minute longer, giving them the time they need.
"No, but I think they can," I say just as Maverick and Corbin rip the prick off me.
Dale steps in front of me guarding me as Pete calls me a string of names, none of which really affect me. Then a fist flies into his face, causing blood to spew from his nose as he staggers backwards. I move around Dale's defensive body to see better.
Dane pulls his fist back down from the air, standing over the prick who is bleeding out on the dance floor. Everyone in the club has stopped to gawk. Not that I blame them.
No one wants to touch your Frankenstein body. His words shouldn't bother me, but they do. It's not like I don't still have some self-conscious issues over my chest, even though the scars on the surface have healed. And now I'm missing even more.
"Get him the fuck out of my club, and don't you ever let him back in," Dane says to one of the bouncers.
Before the beast of a man can haul the jerk up, I decide to take a cheap shot, just like the one he took at me. Using the heel of my stiletto, I stomp the hell out of his crotch, and revel in the sound of his bloodcurdling scream.
"Don't ever come anywhere near my family again," I hiss before turning and walking back toward Dane.
His arms come around me quickly, and I watch his jaw work back and forth as he strains to hold himself back.
"Didn't know that asshole even lived in town anymore," Dane growls.
"Apparently he just got out of prison."