And I didn’t have any words. There was nothing I could say to make things better, and I didn’t know if I wanted to. He came to me with anger in his heart about Logan, about the girl Jeremy thought he should’ve had, and he used his knowledge about my mother to intervene about another girl, me.

I edged backward again, slowly moving away.

I had nothing else to say to him. The students still moved in a constant line, but my mind detached from my emotions. I knew that line would bend around me. I wasn’t scared of it, not when there were so many worse things to be scared of. Like monsters.

Like people who shot my mother.

LOGAN

Pete’s Pub was busy when Mason, Nate, and I walked inside. The dance floor usually only had a few regulars, but it was packed this Friday night. And as we entered, the people closest to the doors turned and stared at us. Nate and I got attention when we came here, but this was more than normal. It was because Mason was with us. College star and all that jazz. He came out with us because the team didn’t play this weekend. It was rare, and I was planning on taking full advantage. Sam stayed home, so it really was just the guys, but I wanted to check on Taylor. She said she was working tonight.

I usually didn’t care if a girl was mad at me. I enjoyed that—made things more entertaining—but I was finding I didn’t like when Taylor was mad at me. It didn’t sit well. Made my insides all mushy, which pissed me off. But I refused to let anyone know. Whatever stick was up Nate’s ass would be wedged even higher if he knew.

Mason leaned close to me. “I didn’t think this was a college bar.”

“It wasn’t.” But I recognized the students, too.

“The girls from last week tagged us on Instagram,” Nate said. “I’m sure word spread from there.”

“Well.” Mason looked at me. “We’re here.” He pointed to an empty booth in the corner. “You go check on your girl. Nate and I will be over there.”

There was a line to get to the bar, and I could see Taylor’s head bobbing back and forth as she filled orders. She’d only started a month ago, but I wouldn’t have known it watching her now. She wore a cool, calm look, with her hair pulled back in some kind of braid. She had on her black uniform shirt over jeans, and the V dipped low enough that when she darted to the back storage section, I got a glimpse of her rack, and a delicious view at that.

I wanted to go back there and lock us into the storage room. I’d just convinced myself it would be better if I didn’t when I saw another guy break free from the crowd. He was heading right for the storage room. He would’ve walked right past me, 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?”