Page 15 of Demon

“Whoa. Steady.” Hands gripped my shoulders as I stopped suddenly before barreling into the body that stood in my way.

The man smiled. An array of gaps and golden crowns greeting me. He had a tattoo over his eyebrow and more all over his neck, disappearing into the black polo shirt. And he didn’t drop his hands, his eyes roaming all over me, pausing on my chest as I watched his lips curve into a smile.

“’Scuse me.” I pulled a shoulder free, stepping out around him and back to the bar, feeling his presence behind me.

“You going to be on that pole later, babe?” I heard him on the other side of the bar.

“No. I don’t dance.”

“That’s a shame. Would have had a private off you. Gotta get my hands on those tits.”

“What can I get you?” I ignored his comments. Another drunk punter. He’d get bored and go watch the girls on the stage soon enough.

The man leant over the bar, staring at me.

“A pint and a feel.”

Fuck’s sake. Knob. I ignored the comment, pouring the pint and passing it across to him.

“Aye and the rest, babe. Let me see them?” He slapped a twenty-pound note on the bar.

I took his money, grabbing his change out of the till and refrained from chucking it back onto the sticky bar top for him to peel off. But when I set the money into his open palm, his fingers snapped shut around my hand. I pulled back, instinctively, but his grip was strong.

“Keep the change if I get a feel of them.” He dipped his head towards my chest.

“I think you’re confused,” I answered, pulling sharply and wrenching my hand free of his. “The girls are that way. I just work the bar.”

He put his hand under the counter, digging around in the pocket of his jeans and bringing out a wad of cash.

“Every lass has their price.” He flicked a few notes out, placing them on the bar and looking back at me.

“Not this one.”

From behind him, I saw Billy approach, his eyes catching mine.

“Mate. The lady said leave her alone.”

“Sit down grandad. I’m brokering a deal here.”

“Not with this one, you’re not. Now go on. Piss off.”

Billy didn’t see the fist coming. Smashing him square in the face and sending him staggering backwards. Blood dripped through the hands clutching at his face. Deep, thick claret. It oozed from him, gaining in speed, dropping onto the floor. Red. Not stopping. Draining out of him.

I stood frozen. The club slowing, a fuzziness closing in on me. Swallowing me and now it felt as if I was wearing blinkers, my peripheral vision nothing more than a blur of shadows. And those shadows moved. Slowly and menacingly. Closing in from the left of me. And then, as if someone had flicked a switch, the world sped back up. Back to its usual speed. And chaos rained down from my left-hand side.

Chapter Eight

Demon

I’d clocked the man at the bar the minute my foot went over the threshold. He was leaning forward, his eyes fixed on Ciara. I didn’t need to be any closer to see where he was staring, or to see the disgusted look on her face as he spoke something to her. My heckles were already rising, prickling at the back of my neck uncomfortably. And as I focused on the man at the bar, I barely noticed Billy Carmichael.

The tattooed man turned, his attention suddenly torn away from Ciara, now on the grey-haired regular that was moving towards him. And then suddenly, Billy was staggering backwards, his hands clutching his face.

“Fuck. That arsehole has just clobbered Billy!” One of the twins shouted from behind me.

We bounded forward together, rushing at the man who was pulling back his arm, his fist wrapped tightly into a ball. Launching myself on top of him, I wrapped my arm around his neck, spinning him away from Billy and slamming his forehead into the bar. His arms flailed, punches thrown wildly, a scattergun approach, an attempt to hit anyone coming towards him. I pulled my arm tighter round his neck, but it only seemed to fuel his temper more, and now I was clinging onto him like a bull at a rodeo.

He whipped around, smashing me into the bar top, a bolt of pain shooting through my ribs, shaking Cade off his other arm like he barely weighed a thing. The man was mad or fuelled with roids. Not that either was relevant. Cade scrambled back to his feet, crashing his elbow into the side of his head, the thud audible over the music pumping from the speakers. It was enough to make the big man falter. A half-step. A wobble. I dragged him backwards, Cade and Caleb pulling on the arm at the other side, taking him out of the club and around the side of the building, just out of eyesight of cars passing on the main road.