but I shifted, leaning my shoulder against the wall and folding my arms.
Nothing.
The guy should’ve stopped, if only to check me out.
When he reached for the door handle, I moved fast to stop him. My arm completely blocked him now, and as he leaned back to take me in, I leaned forward to give him a better view.
“Don’t see a Pete’s Pub shirt on,” I said.
He frowned and glanced down. “No. I don’t work here.”
“One point to me.” I grinned. I felt the asshole coming out. This guy was going to get the full effect. He had no idea what was coming his way.
“Point? What?” He pointed to the storage room door. “I just need to see Taylor. She went in there.”
I cocked my head. “You work for Rankin?”
“Rankin?”
Enough chitchat. I was about to straight up ask if he had a hard-on for Taylor when the door swung open under my hand. I stood back, but kept myself between the doorway and the guy as Taylor appeared. She stopped, braking at the sight of us. I looked over my shoulder at her, but her eyes moved past me. I knew the second she saw the guy. Her eyes went round, and the blood drained from her face. Her lips parted, and she leaned backward, though her feet stayed rooted in place. I started to reach for her when I heard her quiet gasp.
“Eric.”
The fuck? The ex? I looked at him, and his face flushed. He looked guilty. And with good reason.
“You’re the ex?”
“Yeah.”
I grunted. Enough reason for me. I swung my fist and made contact with his neck. He went down, but not enough. He wasn’t on the floor, so I punched again. This time, I hit the sweet spot—going through the cheekbones toward the nose—and his body dropped.
Taylor looked down at him. “Why did you do that?”
“Because he’s a fucker.” It was as simple as that.
She groaned. “I’m going to get into trouble for this.”
“No, you won’t.”
A security guard shoved through the small crowd that had gathered. Mason and Nate were right behind him.
“Logan.” One of the security guards frowned down at the douche. “Why’d you hit the guy?”
“Because he’s a fucker.” I was going to add that I would hit the guy whenever I saw him or I wanted to hit him every time I saw him, but Taylor’s hand clamped down on my arm. She squeezed, stopping me.
“He’s an ex, and my history isn’t great with him,” she explained. “Logan was just worried about me.”
“Punch first, talk later?” The guard looked confused.
I laughed. “More like punch first, never talk later.” I pointed to him. “I did you a favor. The guy is a dipshit.”
The security guard looked from me to Taylor and back again. “Was there a violent history we need to know about?”
“He won’t be a problem, if you’re worried about a lawsuit.” Mason stepped forward.
“Let him try,” I said.
“Logan.” Nate shook his head, giving me the motion to cut it out.
Fuck them. I motioned to Nate and Mason, bending down to grab the dipshit. “We’ll take care of him.”
“Wait. I mean—” The guard gave us a nervous look. “What are you going to do? Give me something here to work with.”
Mason grabbed Eric’s legs, and Nate pushed his way through the crowd, making an opening for us. When we lifted Eric in the air, I said, “We’ll take him to the hospital, make sure I didn’t do any permanent damage. How about that? Can you work with that?”
“I don’t know, man.” The guard still seemed torn.
Taylor moved next to me. “I’ll go with, if that’s okay?”
“We’ll be down a bartender then.”
“Let her go. I’ll step in.” A guy arrived and took in the scene. The name tag clipped to his shirt read Manager.
“Are you sure?” Taylor asked.
The guy waved her on. “Go. Get him out of here before he wakes up. I don’t want to deal with paperwork. As far as I’m concerned, this is a domestic problem. Not a bar problem.”
He stared at Taylor as he said the last part, and I got his message. This was on her. I was about to let him know this was on me, not her, when she nodded.
“Yes, sir.” She touched my arm. “Let’s go. Please.”
I nodded, and Mason and I carried the ex-boyfriend out of the bar. When we got outside, Taylor pointed to her car. “You can put him in the backseat.”
“No way in hell,” I said. “He’s going in my Escalade.”