done the same damn thing.
“You call that dancing?” She lifts one perfectly shaped brow. “Looked like you were getting electrocuted to me.”
“You didn’t have any complaints until he showed up.” The creep jerks his head at me.
“Really? What did you think it meant when I threatened to knee you in the crotch?”
“I dunno,” he says, swaying back and forth drunkenly. “Foreplay? Some girls like it rough.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. This guy’s seen 50 Shades one too many times. Not that I’ve seen it. At least not all of it. My sister may have forced me to watch a scene or two on cable before she took off for California.
“Tell you what.” I grab his other shoulder to steady him. “You agree to leave the lady alone, and I agree not to throw your ass out of here.”
He scowls up at me. Up because I’ve got a good four inches on him. And about thirty pounds, all muscle. “You and what army?”
“That army.” I nod to Brandon, who’s making his way back through the crowd, trailed by two of his crew. Don’t get me wrong. I can more than handle this douchenozzle by myself. But it’ll be easier with some backup to help convince wannabe Magic Mike to move along peacefully. And if that doesn’t work, Brandon and company can drag him out by the collar of his designer shirt, and I won’t have to get my club owner hands dirty.
“Hey, Zach.”
“This guy giving you trouble?”
“Want us to take him out back and beat the shit out of him?”
I let go of Magic Mike and swing around to find myself surrounded by three khaki-clad yuppies who can only be his friends. Dammit. One drunk, overconfident asshat I can take care of solo, but four? I’d have to be really lucky. And they’d have to be really drunk.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Brandon and his boys rushing toward me, barreling through the dancers like they’re bowling pins. Looks like the cavalry’s coming to the rescue. Now I’ve just got to stall for time until they get here.
I hold my hands up, palms out, in an I-come-in-peace gesture. “Listen, guys...”
Those are the last words I utter before I’m sucker punched in the head, and I fall to the floor.
Hard.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ainsley
“I CAN’T DO THIS,” I hiss into the phone as I stand paralyzed outside Jake’s apartment, staring at his door like it’s the portal to an unknown world. Which, in a way, I guess it is. Because I have no clue what’s waiting for me on the other side. After last night, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jake took one look at me and barked at me to get out.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mia snaps back. “You’re a professional. You have a job to do. Get in there and do it.”
“Did you see Jake’s face when they loaded him into the ambulance?” I shudder at the memory. I’ve never seen anyone so pale, his skin the color of chalk, his lips pressed into a harsh, thin line, his whiskey-brown eyes squeezed shut. “He was obviously in a lot of pain. I heard one of the EMTs say his shoulder was dislocated. Thanks to me.”
Now I have two things to apologize to him for. I should start a list.
“The only one to blame is the entitled prick who coldcocked him.” Mia pauses, and I can almost picture her lost in thought, twirling a lock of long dark hair around her finger. “And maybe me. If I hadn’t left you alone...”
“Stop. This is not on you. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” Usually.
Mia’s dry laugh cuts across the phone line. “Funny how easy it is for you to let me off the hook. Too bad you can’t do the same for yourself.”
She’s got a point. Time for me to pull up my big girl panties and face the music, whether the tune’s “Get Back” or “Let’s Get It On.” Truth be told, I don’t know which one I’m more afraid of hearing.
With my free hand, I pull Jake’s keys out of my bag. “Okay, I’m going in. Wish me luck.”
“Trust me, you’re not gonna need it. That boy’s got it bad for you.”
It’s my turn to laugh now. “You’re dreaming. Or smoking something funny.”
“You’re the one who’s delusional. The guy practically broke the land speed record racing to your rescue.”
“Now you’re making me feel guilty again.”
“Totally not what I intended. I just don’t want you to miss what’s staring