Reign A Romance Anthology - Nina Levine Page 0,345

the hospitals and the customers who come into Kingdom of Wigs and march right around the corner into the bar, holding my bald head held high, channeling my inner lioness.

Before I get very far, Hemsworth steps in my way. “Miss, would you like a cup of tea?”

“No. I. Ducking. Would. Not!” I am furious, but I do have manners. Swearing at the older gentleman doesn’t seem appropriate. “Thank you anyway, Hemsworth, for the offer. It is very nice of you.”

“The least I can do considering.” He steps out of my way and makes a sweeping arm motion. “After you, Miss.”

Bradford’s raised fists are clenched, ready for battle. He’s bare-chested, and his abdominal muscles are rippling under his heaving chest as though he has exerted a lot of energy.

“Why isn’t Bradford wearing a shirt?” I mutter to Hemsworth.

“I believe, Miss, he’s defending your honor, contrary to his foot and mouth of a moment ago, he cares about you,” he whispers back.

I don’t even know what to say to that proclamation. “Calling me a ‘charity case’ isn’t exactly going to warm me to him.”

“That would be the foot in his mouth, Miss. He’s got a lot on his mind, and he doesn’t like to admit when his defenses are down. You’ve changed Bradford overnight, and he’s trying to figure that out.”

My God, he looks like a boxer who has been working out at the gym. The gym being Queenie’s. Casual black pants sit low on his hips, distracting me for a moment as I take in that sexy as fuck V-line that points the way to—

I mentally give myself a swift kick up the ass for ogling him. I saw enough of him naked last night before I wound up in a dumpster. He’s gorgeous, but I am no charity case.

Checking myself by tugging on the bottom of my sweater, I resume firing on all cylinders, making a path toward Lorenzo, who is bent over with his hands on his knees, blood dripping onto the wooden floor from an injury, his navy button-up torn in places. His light brown hair clings to his sweaty neck as he catches his breath.

I come to a standstill several feet away from both men, taking in numerous pieces of bar furniture no longer in their places. Barstools upended with tables bumped over several feet from their usual places.

I point to bare-chested Bradford, mouthing, “You are next.” In response, he beams me a shit-eating grin, drilling those damn dimples into his cheeks.

Conceited asshole.

“Looking beautiful, by the way,” he murmurs in my ear as I stalk past him.

Exasperated, I reply in a deadpan voice out the corner of my mouth without looking back, “Don’t patronize me. I’m bald last time I looked, and I’m nobody’s charity case, dickhead.”

I’m gripped by my elbow, sending me swinging around with a surprised look on my face. “Please forgive me for speaking out of term. I can see you are not a charity case. Now say what you need to say to this piece of shit; then we can talk later. We’ve got your back.”

And that’s when I remember there were more voices I heard as I eavesdropped from the staircase.

I tug my elbow out of Bradford’s grip, turning in a circle, eyeing up six tall, mostly bearded men dressed in black boots, jeans, and short-sleeved button-up shirts in various colors and patterns. They are handsome in a wild way. Their tattooed biceps bulge under the constraints of the material. Who the hell are all these guys?

The men look like hired-muscle with their impressive arms folded across their muscular chests. Their stance reminds me of a military pose, making them seem more threatening until one of them winks at me—a handsome guy with black hair and a stylish man bun fade. He looks about the same age as Bradford.

There’s also a dark-skinned guy I nearly didn’t notice in a booth; he’s positioned not to be seen by my stepfather. He doesn’t belong with the other pack of men (the only word that comes to mind). He holds a finger up to his lips, signaling me to stay silent about his whereabouts.

I mentally shake my head.

“Queenie, I can explain.” Lorenzo is upright, holding his side as though he’s in a great deal of pain. He’s got the beginnings of a black eye, and his nose looks broken. I want to roll my eyes at him because he needs to shut the fuck up.

In the past year, he’s let himself go. His once fit