“Hey, buddy,” he said as he took a few long strides over. “I think the lady has made it plenty clear that she’s not interested. So why don’t you cut your losses and call it a night?”
Sable took the opportunity to snatch her wrist away and he didn’t fail to notice when she did that it was red, like she’d been trying to escape and he hadn’t let go even when she struggled. Unlike her rosy bottom, these marks didn’t turn him on—they filled him with rage. What a piece of shit.
Trent looked him up and down and smirked. “Or what, Santa?”
What Jethro wanted to say was that he’d throw him through the paper-covered plate glass window next to them, or give him a demo on how to use the toys in his kit unsafely. What he actually said through gritted teeth was, “I don’t want to have to let the club owners know you’re not being respectful.”
Trent shook his head and muttered, “What a pussy. I don’t need this piece of shit club anyway.”
Good.
Jethro crossed his arms and waited for Trent to walk away. He wouldn’t leave Sable’s side until he did.
The dickhead looked between them, shook his head, mumbled some curses and then held up his hands in a gesture that completely failed to placate Jethro. Nah, the guy’s insolence made Jethro’s fists curl up by his sides. He wouldn’t start a fight in the club but he wasn’t above calling for Hudson and Ian and Ryker and “escorting” this guy out.
Finally the obnoxious stranger walked off and toward the exit. As soon as he crossed the threshold to the hallway, Jethro turned to Sable, put his hands on her shoulders and searched her face.
“Are you okay? Did that fucker hurt you?”
Sable swallowed and shook her head but rubbed at her wrist.
“I’ll get you some ice for that, you don’t want it swelling up. Go sit, I’ll be right back.”
Her lips parted like she was thinking about arguing. And the thing was, he wouldn’t be the guy to run off some arrogant piece of shit only to turn into a domineering jackass himself. If she said no, he’d have to leave it at that. But she didn’t. No. Ice cold, nose-in-the-air Sable Hollingsford took a seat on the bench he’d gestured to, and crossed her ankles, blinked up at him. It was hard to tell behind the mask, but her face looked flushed and her eyes might be watering.
Jethro sure as hell wasn’t going to wait for her to change her mind so he double-timed it to the club kitchen.