Page 14

"None. Of. Your. Business," she says as she repeatedly pokes a finger into my chest to stress every word. "How do you know who called?"

I quickly grab hold of her hand and bring it to my lips, brushing my mouth over her soft skin while holding her gaze. "I went back to the bar after I dropped you off and checked the caller ID."

If looks could kill? Ooh, boy.

"I'm surprised you didn't hit redial and ask them yourself."

My expression must've given me away.

"Oh, my— You actually called them? Sully!"

"I won't apologize for it," I say gruffly. "So don't ask."

"I can't believe you," she says, her expression a mix of incredulity and fury.

Yeah, maybe I've overstepped. A bit. But I would do the same for anyone I care about. I'm not going to fail her the way I failed my⁠—

I lock down the thought before more than a single visual image can slip into my mind's eye and focus on the beautiful woman in front of me. "Violet, talk to me. Forget about the guys, okay? You know those men almost as well as you know me. They're just regular customers."

I can see her mentally unpack that and dig in her heels. And realize I still hold her hand tucked against my chest.

She tugs away, face heating up like she's been out in the summer sun.

"Maybe they are, but I'm not a child who has to be babysat, and I can't believe you'd ask them to watch me without talking to me first. Do you know how embarrassing that is?"

"Why? Friends protect each other, and even if I hadn't mentioned anything to the boys specifically, do you really think for a second that they'd sit by and allow something to happen if they could stop it? All I did was make them a bit more aware to watch for trouble."

I can see the war losing power and, after a long moment, sense that I've finally turned a corner when it comes to her anger. She's still bent out of shape, but she's also coming round to the idea that she has friends who care about her.

And she does. The club members are all ex-military, cops, a few super rich guys, but otherwise professionals, whether blue- or white-collar. They're husbands and fathers and guys who enjoy riding and hanging out and doing good in the community. They escort abuse victims to court to prove to the attacker they're not alone, hold fundraisers and charity rides and genuinely look out for those in need. Nearly all the guys I knew had backgrounds serving the public in one way or another. Even the rich guys were doctors and lawyers who helped out and gave back in their own ways.

"I don't like the idea of people watching me. Don't you get it?" she insists. "It's creepy."

I lift my hand and rub my neck as I stare at her. I'm more than a little pleased when I catch her eyeing my biceps. And maybe I flex. Just a little. "I can tell them to avoid looking at you, but I doubt it'll change anything. Vi, come on. They're stand-up guys. They're not doing anything for you and Ty that they wouldn't do for someone else, and you know it."

"I know but— You shouldn't have said anything to them about the other night. It's none of your concern. Or theirs."

And we're back to square one, I muse. Still, she doesn't seem as up in arms about it now as before. "Not true. It is my concern, and before you try to argue with me, know you're going to lose. I wouldn't be who I am if I didn't look out for you." I take a step closer and inwardly grin when she doesn't budge. "If our roles were reversed and you knew I was hurt… You'd walk away? Wouldn't care? You wouldn't try to help me?"

Her gaze softens even as stubbornness settles in, followed quickly by resignation. The firm line of her full lips. The narrowing of her gaze as it rests on mine.

"See?" I say softly. "You'd do the same for me. Because that's what friends do."

She wants to say more but can't, and I want to kick myself for not starting with that argument. My girl is fierce and strong and beautiful. I want to sweep her up and carry her off into the freaking sunset. Not because she's some damsel in distress but because of the strength I see in her. I never knew I had such a strong romantic streak, but I do when it comes to her.

I want to protect her.

Make her smile.

Erase that wary, distrusting look in her gorgeous blue eyes and make them sparkle instead.

"I should get back to Jasmine," Violet says softly.

"Hug it out?" I sweep my arms wide and wait, giving her my most enticing grin.

She huffs out a breath and rolls her eyes. "I am not hugging you."

"Come on. Bring it in," I taunt with a waggle of my fingers in a come-hither motion. "The very least you can do after yelling at me for being a good friend is to give me a hug."