Dillon put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and leaned in close. “You shouldn’t talk to a woman like that. Isabella is too pretty and kind for you to treat her this way.”
Tommy startled and tried to get away, but he was locked in the booth. The only way out was past Dillon. He couldn’t have planned this better himself.
Dillon didn’t move. He put a hand on the back of the booth seat and another on the table, further barring Tommy’s escape. The human scrambled back before gathering himself and jutting out his chin. The guy turned away from Dillon and fixed Isabella with a glare.
“You brought your sugar daddy?” he sneered.
Dillon grabbed the guy by the chin so that he had to stare up at Dillon. “Quit being a piece of shit.” Dillon jerked his head toward the credit bill on the table. “Pay her back.”
The guy yanked his face from Dillon’s grip. A sneer twisted his lips. “I’m not paying shit. She left and took my stuff. It’s her fault I had to use her credit card.”
Isabella’s jaw dropped. “You bought designer clothes and a diamond earring! That’s not replacing anything I took with me. Things that were mine, by the way.”
Had Erik or Gavin been the one standing over this table, they would have snatched the earing out of the man’s ear. They would have left him bleeding and crying. Dillon didn’t want to make Isabella watch that kind of cruelty. He didn’t want her to see him as a monster.
No matter how badly he wanted this man to hurt.
Dillon snatched the bill from the table and slapped it against the man’s chest. “If you haven’t paid this bill in a week, then expect a visit from me and my friends.”
“Dillon, that’s not necessary,” Isabella said.
Dillon could tell that it was. A man’s only driving forces were fear and love. Since this guy was clearly incapable of love, then Dillon had to be the most frightening force in the guy’s life or else nothing would get done.
Isabella put her hand on Dillon’s forearm. He glanced toward her and found her silently pleading with him. Her cheeks had drained of color. His stomach dropped as a wave of concern crashed into him.
Dillon nodded and leaned back, waiting for Isabella to join him. They got two steps away before the guy found his balls and shouted:
“I see you’re being a good little bitch for them!”
Dillon had never moved faster in his life. He spun, his fist flying. He swore he could feel three of the man’s teeth shattering. Someone in the background gasped. Another patron cried out.
The man’s eyes rolled into the back of his head before he slumped, unconscious.
When Dillon turned, Isabella had a hand over her mouth. She darted for the door before Dillon could even mutter an apology. He’d never acted so rashly before in his life. Standing alone in the back of the bar, he realized his beast had slithered beneath his skin.
Dillon spared a glance back at the guy. Blood painted the corner of the man’s lips. Without thinking, Dillon carefully pried the diamond stud from the guy’s ear and pocketed it.
Chapter Five
Outside, Isabella found a corner of the parking lot to throw up in.
Dillon had arrived to save her from Tommy, and she couldn’t even keep down her breakfast long enough to say thank you. Her gut clenched once more, threatening another round of dry heaving. She sent a silent prayer, begging for the heaving to end, to whoever was listening. The powers that be must have been listening because her stomach finally settled.
She couldn’t have looked great, though. A fine sheen of sweat made her curls cling to her forehead. If she looked in a mirror, she probably would have found that her eyes were bloodshot.
Dillon pushed through the bar’s front doors. He looked up and down the street for her, his brows furrowed. She pulled a couple of tissues from her purse, one to wipe her nose and another to clean her mouth.
He’s going to smell vomit on my breath!
Isabella frantically searched her purse for a mint, but the best she could come up with was a tube of mint scented lip balm. With nothing else to use, she hoped this would somewhat cover the scent of her morning sickness.
When she finally approached Dillon, his brows sloped upward, softening his hardened expression.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
For what? Intervening on her behalf? Punching her ex and knocking him out?
She shook her head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
Dillon grunted like he didn’t believe her.
“Did you drive here?” she asked, keeping her distance so he wouldn’t be able to smell vomit on her breath.
“Nah.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, making him seem younger. “I kind of broke the rules.”
He proceeded to pull his hands close to his shoulders and flap them like he was a bird. Her lips formed a wide O of surprise.
“Not supposed to do that where people can see me.”
She nodded, kind of disappointed that she’d missed out on seeing him in action. It was one thing to know these men were capable of turning into dragons, but it was another to see it firsthand. She wanted to know if they were as majestic as she imagined. How could they not be?
“I can take you home, but I’d like to stop at the grocery store first. You helped me a lot back there, and I’d like to make you dinner.” It was the least she could do.
Tommy had tried to shame her into being submissive again. He’d hurled insult after insult at her with the hopes of breaking down everything she’d rebuilt about herself. It would have worked had Dillon not stepped in.
She pulled out her keys and paused. “Do you really think I’m pretty?”
Dillon fixed her with his blue gaze, the edges of his irises turning yellow. “You’re the prettiest lady I’ve ever set eyes on.”
She tried not to burst out laughing. “You haven’t met a lot of women then.”
He cocked his head and stared at her. After a moment passed, he approached her until there was barely any space left between them. He towered over her, but his presence didn’t elicit the same reaction that Tommy’s did. With Dillon close, she felt safe.
“What?” she asked as she craned her neck to look up at him.
The corners of his mouth tilted upward into an almost smile. He gently tugged a tendril of her hair away from her forehead, his fingers trailing down the side of her face. She shuddered as a thrill raced up her spine.
“I have seen a lot of women dolled up for the clubs I worked at. You beat them all.” His hand grazed her elbow before he stepped around her.
Cold air rushed in and filled the now empty space before her. She cleared her throat, unable to push back the thunder of her excited heartbeat. When she turned, Dillon waited patiently by the passenger door of her car.
She couldn’t believe he meant anything he said. To her, Dillon was just being nice. She’d had a bad day, and Dillon was trying to make her feel better in his own way.
Isabella hadn’t bothered to put on an ounce of make-up. She didn’t dare put on mascara or eyeliner for fear that it’d race down her cheeks by the end of the day, either from her tears or her vomiting—which always made her eyes water. To hide her body, she’d donned a massive sweater despite the warming temperatures.