“Shit,” Fallon said. “I think I just got my damn period. Go ahead back to the bar with the guys. I’ll be right out.”
Emily nodded and tried to make her way through the crowd.
“Looks like you’re stuck here,” a man standing next to her yelled over the blaring music. Emily’s eyes shifted to his smile, his height intimidating her as he brushed his hand over his buzzed head. “I could lift you up and carry you to where you have to go.”
“Umm, no thanks. I’ll make it through,” Emily laughed as she continued her attempt to squeeze her way through the other patrons.
“Eric,” he said, extending his hand while trying to also dodge the masses.
She shook it. “Emily. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Well, Emily, I’m here with a few friends if you want to come to our table and have a drink with us. They’re right over there,” he said, gesturing to a booth a few feet away. “If we make it over there,” he laughed. “It doesn’t look like we’ll be moving too far in all of this.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m here with my fiancé.”
“Getting married? Very nice,” he smiled. “When’s the big day? Not a Halloween wedding, right?”
Emily laughed. “No, but that would’ve been a cool idea.” She stood on her tiptoes in an attempt to see over the still lingering crowd. “It’s November 24th.”
“Awesome,” he replied. “Can I see your ring?”
Emily thought his request was odd, but nonetheless, she figured she might be able to use it to her advantage. “How’s about we do a little bartering here, Eric?” she smiled. “I’ll let you take a look at my ring if you part this group like the Red Sea, so I can get back to my friends.”
“Sounds like a deal,” he laughed. Emily lifted her hand, and he took it in his. With widened eyes, his mouth hung ajar. “That’s a fucking rock if I’ve ever seen one. Well, congratulations to you and your fiancé. I wish you both—”
“Emily,” Dillon interrupted, his voice filled with anger. He pinned her with a hard look, and she shivered. Pulling her hand away from Eric, she started to speak, but Dillon directed his attention to the other man. “Why the fuck are you grabbing my fiancée’s hand?”
“Dillon,” Emily nervously blurted out. “He was going to—”
“Shut the fuck up, Emily,” he growled. “Answer my fucking question, man. Why the fuck were you touching her?”
Eric narrowed his eyes. “Chill out, buddy. I asked if I could see her engagement ring.”
Without another word spoken, Eric’s head flew back when Dillon punched him square in the nose, his blood spewing on Emily’s sweater. With a gasp, Emily’s heart tripled over in her chest as she watched Eric’s body slump against the wall. Stumbling to his feet, Eric rubbed at his nose for a second and then started swinging wildly at Dillon.
Fallon walked out from the bathroom, her eyes wide with shock. “Holy shit!”
“Dillon!” Emily cried out as he lunged toward Eric, tackling his body against the wall with brutal force.
“I’m going to get Trevor and Gavin!” Fallon yelled, pushing her way through the crowd, which now formed a circle around the two men.
Emily wept as she screamed out Dillon’s name, shock tearing through her system while the two men continued their venomous onslaught against one another. As the bloodthirsty patrons watched the fight, roaring like caged animals, Emily’s body was pushed and pulled in every direction during the hysteria. Within a few seconds, two monster-sized bouncers pushed through the growing crowd, looking like they were undoubtedly ready to brawl. With little effort, one bouncer had Dillon strung up by his arm, pulling him off Eric, while the other yanked Eric away from Dillon. They yelled for everyone to clear the area or else they, too, would be thrown out. With their warning, the crowd descended back into the bar, still riled up from the madness.
As the crowd thinned, Fallon, Trevor, and Gavin came into view, both men wearing heated looks on their faces with Fallon appearing just as shocked.
“Oh God, Dillon, you’re bleeding,” Emily cried out.
Gavin looked to Dillon, his tone harsh. “What the fuck happened?”
“She fucking happened! Get your fucking shit, Emily!”
Something flared in Dillon’s eyes—something Emily didn’t dare to question in that moment. She’d never seen him look so dark and full of vengeance. With her body shaking, she watched as one of the bouncers feverishly escorted him out of the bar by his elbow.
Still crying, Emily came to a stop, her hand rushing to her mouth as she frantically looked around. “My purse. Who has my purse?”
“I do,” Fallon said, quickly handing it to her.
When they emerged from the bar, Emily found Dillon pacing back and forth in the parking lot, both of his hands gripping his hair.
“Dillon,” Gavin yelled out, approaching him. “What the fuck happened in there?”
Not answering, Dillon stalked over to Emily and pulled her by the arm. She tried backing away, but his ironclad grip was too tight. He grabbed her chin in his hand, forcefully yanking it up. “You just let some random guy touch you! What are you—a fucking whore?”
All. Gavin. Saw. Was. Blood. Red.
The hair on his arms stood on end. With a muscle working in his jaw, hostility bleeding from his shoulders, and the light blue of his eyes blazing like hot coals, Gavin delivered and connected a sharp, brutal jab to Dillon’s jaw, snapping his head back. Dillon hit the asphalt with a sickening thud, his body unmoving—completely down for the count.
Emily stumbled back from the impact and landed on the ground. Sliding against tiny pieces of gravel, she felt the bottom of her palms and wrists rip open.
Paying no mind to his unconscious friend lying on the floor, Gavin’s eyes immediately flew to Emily. His heart clenched in his chest. In one gentle sweeping motion, he lifted her from the ground and searched her face worriedly. “Jesus, Emily, tell me I didn’t accidentally hit you.” He ran his fingers across her cheeks, eventually caressing them through her hair. With his body shaking, he stared into her eyes, his voice a low whisper. “God, please tell me I didn’t.”
She swallowed tightly, shock settling through every limb in her body. “No, you didn’t hit me,” she choked out, tears streaming down her face.
For the second time tonight, relief washed through Gavin. “I’m taking you back to your apartment,” he whispered, his hands sliding down her arms.
“I…I can’t ju…just leave him here, Gavin,” she stammered, wiping her eyes.
“You can, and you will,” he answered softly. He looked to Trevor. “You’ll bring him to your place tonight.”
Crouching on the floor next to Dillon with his hand on his pulse, Trevor looked up and nodded. “Yeah, but you’re helping me get him in my car.”
Although it was taking every ounce of his self-control not to throw Dillon into Trevor’s trunk and sink him somewhere in the Atlantic, Gavin reluctantly agreed. After a very drunk and very knocked-out Dillon was tossed into Trevor’s car, Gavin took Emily home. The entire ride over his stomach twisted with pain, listening to her cry as she explained what had happened. Her expression was vulnerable, and the need for answers swirled in her eyes.
After they entered her apartment, Gavin had her sit down on the couch as he retrieved a washcloth and bandages from the bathroom. He also filled a bowl with cool water. When he emerged from the kitchen, he found her rocking back and forth, cradling her face in her hands. Heaviness settled in his chest like a brick. The urge to take her into his arms and shield her from the pain she was feeling was almost impossible for him to resist.
Sitting himself on the floor in front of her, Gavin dipped the washcloth into the water and reached for one of her wrists. She flinched back in noticeable pain as he laid it across her skin. Now he felt anger surge within him, knowing that Dillon had caused all of it. Gavin gritted his teeth as he squeezed the excess water from the cloth, noticing its white color was tinged pink from her blood. The blood from this beautiful woman was brought on by an asshole—an asshole that didn’t deserve her smile, her touch, her warmth, or her love.