Somebody to Love (Tyler Jamison #1) - April Wilson Page 0,96

where this is going. I’ve never had a relationship before… this is all new territory for me, and I don’t know what to expect.

A few minutes later, a new face appears on the dance floor, out of nowhere. It’s someone I recognize only too well, after having spent quite a bit of time sitting across an interrogation table from him. Brad Turner.

What the hell?

I stiffen as I observe the dynamic shifting around Ian. As Turner moves in closer, he edges Ian’s friends back. The expression on Ian’s face transforms the instant he sees Turner. He’s clearly on edge. Jesus, he’s afraid.

Ian vehemently shakes his head as Turner slips behind him and wraps his arms around Ian’s waist. Turner presses his mouth to Ian’s ear and says something that makes Ian flinch.

Fuck! I’m already on my feet and halfway to the dance floor when Ian breaks free from Brad Turner and makes a beeline for the restrooms. Chris is hot on Ian’s heels.

Turner stalks after Ian, disappearing down the hallway that leads to the restrooms.

Hell no!

Chapter 34

Ian Alexander

Brad’s threat reverberates in my head as I stalk down the hallway to the bathroom.

“I’m going to fuck you until you scream my name and beg for more.”

Immediately, I thought of Eric, and it broke my heart that this guy had fucked my friend. Brad might not have killed Eric, but he did fuck him, and the thought makes me sick. Eric deserved better.

Chris follows me into the restroom. “Are you okay? What did he say to you?”

A moment later, the restroom door opens. Strong hands latch onto my shoulders, turning me to face a red-faced Brad Turner. Grimacing, he slams me against the cement wall, pinning my shoulders against the cold, hard surface. He’s seething. Well, fuck him!

“Get off me!” I yell as I plant my palms against his shoulders and push as hard as I can. He doesn’t even budge.

“Let go of him!” Chris shrieks, tugging futilely on Brad’s arm.

Brad slides one hand to my neck, his long fingers wrapping around my throat and cutting off my air. He leans in close, his face just inches from mine, his breath hot. “You’ve been a very bad boy, Ian. I saw the cop staring at you. He watches you like he owns you. You let him fuck you, didn’t you?”

My head is spinning, partly from an alcohol buzz and partly from lack of air. My cheeks are burning, and blood pounds in my ears. I grab his wrist and try to dislodge his grip on my throat, but I’m too weak to be effective. I see bursts of light behind my eyes, and my lungs are on fire. I try desperately to suck in air, but I get nothing.

When the bathroom door slams into the wall, Brad turns to look. A moment later, he’s wrenched off me so abruptly I sink to the floor, coughing and wheezing as I try to catch my breath.

I watch, horrified, as Tyler slams Brad against the wall. Brad’s head hits the wall with an audible crack.

Tyler fists Brad’s shirt and holds him pinned to the wall. Teeth gritted, he growls, “Keep your fucking hands off Ian!”

Brad swings his fist, aiming for Tyler’s face, but Tyler dodges the blow. Then Tyler hauls off and slams a fist into Brad’s face.

There’s a horrible crunching sound as blood sprays from Brad’s nose. “Let go of me, you motherfucker!” he shouts.

Brad shoves Tyler hard, and Tyler stumbles back a few steps before righting himself. Brad charges Tyler, his fist connecting with Tyler’s jaw. Tyler staggers back, wiping blood from his chin. And then he’s on Brad again, driving his fist into Brad’s belly, over and over, knocking the breath out of him. Brad folds over, wheezing as he sucks in air.

I’m still trying to catch my breath as Chris pulls me aside, out of the way of flying fists. I notice someone has propped the bathroom door open, and there’s a crowd gathered in the doorway, spilling out into the hall. Numerous phone cameras are out, filming.

Two club security guards shove their way into the bathroom. They grab Tyler by the arms and haul him away from Brad, who’s still hunched over, his arms clutching his waist. He’s spitting blood and struggling for air.

“You’ll pay for this, you motherfucker!” Brad gasps. He straightens partway, still holding his abdomen. “I’ll have your badge for assault.”

Brad pulls his own phone out of his back pocket and starts filming. He points the camera at