“Don’t mention it.”
Lisa gave me a flirty smile, then turned and went back to work. I was about to get up to do my rounds when someone walked up behind me. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Rafe. I could tell just by looking at the expression on Marlowe’s face. Her lips curled into a warm smile as she said, “I wasn’t expecting you to come by tonight.”
“Not staying long. Need to check in with Menace, and then we’re headed back.” Rafe eased forward and gave Marlowe a brief kiss before asking, “You having a good night?”
“Pretty good.” Marlowe motioned her head towards the empty tables in the corner as she continued, “Kind of slow tonight.”
“It’ll pick up after the game.”
“Yeah, Widow said the same.”
At the mention of my name, Rafe turned his attention to me and asked, “Everything running smooth tonight?”
“So far so good.” I’d barely gotten the words out of my mouth when Country came over and plopped down on the stool next to me. I looked over to him, and then back to Rafe as I mumbled, “Until now.”
“The party has arrived.” Country scanned the room as he chuckled, “And it looks like I arrived just in time.”
“I think that’s my cue to go find Menace.” Rafe gave me a brotherly slap on the shoulder as he turned and started towards the back office. “You three try to stay out of trouble until I get back.”
“What’s the fun in that?” Country snickered.
Rafe didn’t respond. Instead, he just shook his head and continued towards the office. I was taking a drink of my Coke when I overheard Marlowe asking Country about his grandmother Gladys. Marlowe had worked with her down at Crockett’s until Gladys sold the bar and her upstairs apartment. Since she didn’t have another place lined up, she decided to move in with Ada, an older lady the club had watching over our storage lot, and from the sound of it, the two had become instant friends. I was listening to Country tell Marlowe about some big dinner the two had fixed up for him when I noticed a security light flashing outside of one of the VIP rooms—signaling one of our girls was in trouble.
Without stopping to let Country or Marlowe know what was up, I stood and charged towards the room. The second I opened the door, I saw red. One of the assholes who’d been pounding beers with his buddies had our girl Izzy pinned against the wall. Her lip was busted, along with her cheek, and there were red handprints all over her arms. She was trying to push the guy off her, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. The piece of shit had his hand between her legs, groping her as he mumbled, “Come on, baby. You know you want it.”
“No...I don’t! Get your hands off me!”
Without a moment’s hesitation, I stormed over, grabbed hold of the guy’s shirt, and with one hard tug, I sent him flailing backwards. His back hit the floor with a hard thud. Before the guy had a chance to react, I reared my fist back and slammed it into his jaw. I felt the bones in his face give way. Even though I knew I’d already done major damage, I couldn’t stop myself from plowing into him again and again. There was one thing I couldn’t, wouldn’t, tolerate, and that was a motherfucker putting his hands on a woman. I’d grown up watching my ol’ man use my mom as his own personal punching bag, leaving her black and blue on a weekly basis. Back then, I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Unfortunately for this dickhead, that was no longer the case.
His entire face was a bloody fucking mess. I was pretty sure I’d not only broken his jaw, but his nose as well. For a rational man, that would’ve been enough. They’d see that the guy had gotten what was coming to him, but I wasn’t a rational man—not at times like these. He was lying in a pool of blood when I dropped my hands to his throat, clamping down with all my might as I growled, “I should end your sorry ass right here and now!”
“Widow!” Izzy came up behind me and pulled at my shoulder. “You’ve gotta stop, Widow. You’re gonna kill him.”
“Motherfucker deserves it for putting his hands on you.”
I still had my hands wrapped around the guy’s throat when Country came charging into the room. As soon as he stepped through the door and saw the bloody mess beneath me, he gasped, “Holy shit, brother. You don’t fuck around.”
Seeing I was about to kill the guy, he slipped his arm under my shoulder and pulled back, forcing me to release my hold on the asshole’s throat. He immediately started gasping and clinging at his throat, trying to take in a decent breath of air. I glanced back over at Izzy, and the sight of her busted lip had me enraged all over again. Unable to stop myself, I kicked the guy in the gut and roared, “You ever come back here, I’ll finish what I started. You got that?”
He answered with a painful groan. I was tempted to kick him again, but Country had already stepped between us and was trying to get the dickhead to his feet. Once he had him standing, Country looked over to me and said, “Damn, I better get him out of here while he’s still breathing.”
“Probably not a bad idea.” I waited until Country and the guy made it out of the room before turning my attention to Izzy. “You okay?”
“Yeah, thanks to you.” Tears filled her eyes as she reached up and hugged me. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up.”
“That’s what we’re here for.” I gave her a quick squeeze then said, “I’ll give Doc a call and have him come check you out.”
“No, that’s not necessary,” she argued. “I’m fine. Really.”
“I’d feel better if you’d let him check you out.”
“Well, I’d feel better if he didn’t.” Her eyes dropped to the ground as she muttered, “I just want to forget this ever happened.”
“All right, then. Get your shit and head home. You’re done for the night.”
“Wait, I’m good to...”
“Go home, Izzy.”
She nodded, then scurried out of the room. I could feel my knuckles throbbing. I knew if I didn’t do something, they’d end up killing me later, so I headed to the bar to get some ice from Marlowe. I’d barely made it out to the main floor when I heard Country roar, “Then your buddy here should’ve kept his goddamn hands off our girl! Apparently, you don’t realize how lucky he is to be walking out of here.”
“You got no idea who this is, do you?” one of his friends snarled.
“Nope, and don’t give a fuck.” Country was known in the club for his southern charm and sense humor, but he could kick ass with the best of them. I had no worries as he shoved the beaten guy into his friend’s arms and demanded, “Get his sorry ass outta here and don’t come back. Ever. You’re all banned.”
“For what?” One of the others stepped up as he shouted, “Cause he put his hands on one of your fucking whores?”
“You best watch your fucking mouth,” Country warned as he thrust his chest towards the guy. “If you don’t wanna end up like your friend here, you best do like I told ya and get the hell outta here.”
At first, none of them moved. They just stood there glaring at Country. I’d started over to back him up when one of them threatened, “You haven’t heard the last of us. You can count on that.”