It’s a busy street. People are outside. A lot of people. It’s not like I’ll be alone with him. But even that thought doesn’t give me any warm fuzzies.
“Colt and Theo are on their way,” I lie. Well, it’s sort of a lie. If my assumption’s correct, Ashlyn’s already alerted them.
“I guess we’d better make this quick, huh?” he counters.
I suck my lips between my teeth and turn to the girls. “If I’m not back in five, call the police.”
“Mia,” Ash snaps.
“She’s being dramatic,” Shorty muses. “I’m not gonna do anything. I only want to talk––”
Blake steps in front of him like she isn’t going toe-to-toe with a freaking giant. “You can talk with us around,” she challenges. I’d be impressed if I didn’t know Shorty would backhand her for it if there wasn’t a room full of witnesses.
Ass.
“This is between me and her. I don’t need either of you sticking your nose in our relationship when you don’t know shit about it.”
“Oh, trust me,” Blake quips. “We’re well aware of what you are.”
Shorty’s fingers dig harder into my bicep, but I don’t flinch. It’s a warning. One I read loud and clear.
“You guys, it’s fine,” I tell them. “You really think Shorty will try anything when at least a handful of paparazzi are camped outside this place? This is the closest bar to the arena, and it’s packed full of players and fans. Shorty might be an asshole, but he would never do anything to ruin his precious career, right?” I glare up at Shorty, hating how small and inconsequential he makes me feel.
“Exactly.” He tugs me a little more roughly toward the exit. “Five minutes.”
“And if you’re a second longer, they’ll call the cops,” I remind him.
“Always the dramatic one, baby.” He shoves me through the doorway and into the cool air.
I let it wash over me, praying it’ll bring clarity, but I’m as overwhelmed as before.
I was right.
It is busy out here.
Good.
Without a word, he begins dragging me toward the edge of the parking lot and as far away from the street as he can manage, which is saying something. The guy’s definitely drunk and can barely walk a straight line.
Classy, Shorty. Really classy.
He tugs me a little harder, and I almost stumble over my own feet. “Shorty, you’re making a fool out of yourself,” I mutter, but I follow his lead. The sooner he finds some semblance of privacy––but not too much because I don’t have a death wish––the sooner we can end this stupid confrontation, and I can go back inside with the girls.
When we reach the edge of the parking lot, I dig my heels into the ground, but he tugs me between a few cars, causing a wave of fear to push through me.
“This is far enough.” I jerk my arm from his grasp and tumble to the ground as he lets me go. My tailbone lands on the hard asphalt, and I curse under my breath, rolling to my knees.
“Asshole,” I seethe. Pain radiates from my spine and down my legs.
“Why the fuck did you do it?” he growls.
I glare up at him. “Do what?”
“Why’d you have to kiss him, Mia? Why’d you have to fuck with my head?”
With a dry laugh, I shake my head. “Do you have any idea how insane you sound, Shorty?” I start to stand, but he wraps his hand around my throat and yanks me to my feet.
“You were right.” He squeezes my neck and presses his forehead to mine with such bruising force I swear I can feel my skull pulsing. “In the bar. When you said I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize my career. You were right.” He squeezes tighter, and my fear catapults into full-blown panic. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. We’re over. We’ve been over. I’ve been called names and taken a few hits from him when we were dating. And I’ve survived emotional abuse bad enough to haunt some people’s nightmares. But this? I’ve never actually feared for my life before.
My fingers claw at his wrist, leaving red ribbons of torn flesh, but he doesn’t let go.
Bringing us nose to nose, his upper lip curls, and he seethes, “You just had to get in my head, didn’t you?”
What the hell is happening?
Is the man completely unhinged?
We’re under a lamp post. There are people outside. Someone has to be seeing this.
Black spots dance in my vision, and my lids flutter as I stand on my tiptoes, willing him to let me go.
“Can’t. Breathe,” I mouth.
I’m going to pass out.
I’m going to die.
Right here. In the middle of a fucking parking lot, surrounded by unsuspecting people.
His grip tightens even more, and my vision tunnels. “If you ever fuck with my career again, I’ll kill you.”
He shoves me back to the ground, and my body slams against the pavement with such a bruising force, I feel like I’ve been tackled by a linebacker. My shoulder and back take the brunt of the hit as the air whooshes from my lungs, and I choke on oxygen, attempting to catch my breath. The back of my head hurts. I must’ve hit it against the pavement when he threw me to the ground like I was a freaking ragdoll. But there’s no blood. Only a goose egg the size of my fist.
“See?” Shorty adds. “Our chat didn’t even take two minutes.” He steps over my body, adjusts the sleeves of his leather jacket, and leaves me nothing but a helpless heap on the pavement as he heads back inside the bar.
My hands shake, and my vision is still blurry from the hit to the head as I push myself up and let out a few unsteady breaths.
Fuck.
Shoving my hair away from my face, I scan the crowded parking lot, but no one notices me. No one sees my fear or how I’m clutching the back of my head as the goose egg takes up residence on my skull.
Shorty’s smart. We were between cars. No one saw a fucking thing. The music from the club must’ve drowned out my grunts, and he was sure to keep his voice low so only I could hear it. I guess he wasn’t as drunk as I thought.
Good one, Mia.
I blink back tears as I take in the starry sky shining down on me.
I hate him.
I hate him more than anything.
Wiping beneath my eyes, I let out a slow breath and head back inside, avoiding the curious gazes as I find a very concerned Ash and Blake at the bar.
“What the hell––” Ash starts, but I cut her off.
“I’m fine.”
“Did he hurt you?” Blake demands. “Why is your face red?”
“My PTSD is making me a mess, but I promise I’m fine. He made his point and got his asshole-ish behavior out of his system. I promised to keep a wide berth from him and his career from now on.” I glance at the door. “Are the guys still coming?”
“Yeah, they’re on their way,” Ash replies. “Erika was nice enough to watch Jax so Colt could come.”
With a ruthless grin, Blake glances at Shorty at the back of the bar. “When they find out what happened, they’re gonna kick the shit out of––”
“Can we…” I bite the inside of my cheek and tear my attention from the entrance. “Can we not discuss this with the guys?”