Page 32 of Second Sets Omnibus

“Watch where you’re going, bitch.”

I’m on my feet before I know what I’m doing and marching over there before Kieran can climb over Callum. A yelp and curses happen in the booth I vacated. My eyes narrow on the polo-wearing douche canoe standing before River, looking ather like she’s the scum of the earth, when he was the one who knocked drunkenly into her; his body sways on the spot.

“Fucking Central Cunt,” he hisses again, slurring his words and rocking back and forth with unfocused eyes.

“The fuck you say?” I growl, scooping the man by the shirt and bringing his face directly into mine. "Did you just say what I think you just fucking said?" I spit, shaking him with every word.

The stench of day-old beer and cigarettes sends bile up my throat and knots in my stomach, but realizing who this douchebag is, knocks me back. Bradley Bradford. Stupid name for a stupid shithead. His father’s the lovely mayor of this town, who conveniently keeps his rap sheet buried deep. I continue to hold him by the scruff of his shirt.

“Is that any way to talk to a lady?” I snarl, exposing my teeth.

“Down, Killer,” River murmurs from beside me, furrowing her brows. The warmth of her hand lingers on my chest when she holds me back. My breath shudders in my chest when her warm fingers dig into my flesh, and goosebumps erupt. An instant connection puts my hair on end, and a ringing fills my ears. Her glassy green eyes stare at me in warning. “I really need to invest in holy water. Did your demon disappear?”

My eyes pop wide when she suggests…. I’ve been... “I’m not possessed, you little brat,” I hiss, ignoring the tingling on my chest from her touch, igniting something deep in me, but I shake it off. I have a douchebag to obliterate for thinking he could even speak to her like that.

My attention snaps back to the scumbag currently turning fifty shades of red and fuming. Bradley’s fist raises shakily in the air until I toss him on his back, rejoicing in the useless air pouring from his lungs.

“The power of Christ compels you,” she murmurs, side-eyeing me with furrowed brows. “Christo!" she hisses, leaning close enough to examine my eyes. "You didn’t flinch…” She cocksher head, a grin exploding across her lush lips. "Worked for Dean." She shrugs.

I fight the smile threatening to pull at my lips and swallow my laugh by looking away. Me? Evil? Have I been that much of an asshole over the last few days? Fuck. Yeah. I have been. My lips pop open, ready to retort and apologize for my actions. But Kieran swoops in to save the damn day. This could have been my chance to show her I’m not the demonic assbag she thinks I am. I suppose I’ll have to rectify that one day at a time.

I'm not an insufferable asshole all the time, just occasionally. It's the facade I put on to deal with the world—especially my father. Show an ounce of weakness, and he picks it apart. His fist alone taught me too many hard lessons to soften to the world. But there's something about River West that softens my resolve and makes me want to throw caution to the wind and unwind. And that's what terrifies me.

“You okay, River Blue?” Kieran asks, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his chest.

I sigh, wishing I was the one comforting her. But what do I have to offer, anyway? Kieran has a rapport with her. Being his long-lost friend, my asshole father brainwashed him into forgetting and all. She’ll fall to her damn knees again for him. But for me? She'll light me on fire just to get warm.

“Bradley Bradford,” Rad whistles, standing above him with his arms crossed. “And my favorite lady,” Rad says through a drunken, dreamy smile, looking at her with envy, nestled in Kieran’s arms. “Don’t worry, Sugar Tits! We'll kick this piece of shit to the sidewalk.” Rad scrunches his nose, grinding his teeth.

Informative. Rad doesn’t get angry quickly, but at the sight of this man—he’s infuriated. To the naked eye, you wouldn’t be able to tell. But to me? Well, his curled fists, rigid muscles, and silent snarl tell a very long story. Bradley Bradford did something wrong in Rad’s eyes, and I’ll get to the bottom of it.

“Piece of rapist shit,” Rad hisses, grabbing Bradley by the shirt, causing him to stumble over his drunken feet, and dragging him toward the front door. He grunts, trying as hard as he can to drag the flailing idiot out. But all two-hundred and fifty pounds of Bradley protests. Rad tosses his hands in the air with frustration. “Help?” Rad says, narrowing his drunken eyes at us. Looking around, I eye the surrounding area looking for the bouncers I know exist, but I find none for help. Some fucking good they are they can’t even protect the one person they should. Well, fine, it’s our duty now.

“Ugh. I don’t need you guys to do this. You!” River snipes, removing Kieran’s arm from her shoulder, and points directly at Bradley, who is trying to stand on his wobbly feet. I bite back a smile when a wet spot forms on the front of his jeans. He groans, slumping against the front of the stage. That’s right. You utter waste of space. Pee your pants like a child. “Get the fuck out of my bar, man.”

Bradley chuckles like he has a chance and stumbles forward directly into my arms. “Get the fuck off me,” he slurs, pushing against my chest.

“Not happening,” I growl, dragging his thrashing body out the front door and literally tossing him onto the sidewalk.

“And don’t come back here,” River says, shaking her head. A paleness takes over her face when she pushes past us and waltzes back into the bar without a word of thanks.

“If I ever catch you talking to, touching, or even thinking about her, I’ll rip your scrotum in half. Fucking leave before I do it,” Kieran hisses, popping his knuckles directly above Bradley, who groans, rolling around on the sidewalk.

Well, that’s one way to threaten a guy who touches the girl you’re currently obsessed with.

“Fuck, I’m going to see how she is,” Kieran grumbles, swiping a hand down his face.

“She’s a big girl,” I say, raising a brow. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“She will be in a minute,” Rad says, rubbing his hand together. “I’m about to gag her into next week,” he cackles, running back into the bar like a kid marching down the stairs on Christmas Day.

Kieran stares after him, shaking his head with a frown.

“Before you go to pound town,” I murmur, pulling my phone from my pocket. “I wanted to share a little tidbit I picked up today. It was just announced at like 2 a.m.” I grin, shoving my phone into his waiting hands. I can tell by the sour look on his face that he’s not impressed that I’m holding him up. But it blows into a grin when he reads the rules of Battle of the Bands. “To qualify for Battle of the Bands, we need an EP and an entry video, and having our own merch would help our chances.” Excitement spears through me at the chance to finally get there.

“Battle of the fucking Bands,” he muses, scrolling through my phone, and nods.

“Imagine we get her to help with all this,” I murmur, gesturing toward the list of requirements.