Page 50 of The Renegade Billionaire

My side sizzles when a tiny hand lands there, then pushes me aside.

Madison barrels in between me and Cian. I reach out for her and only manage to fist the waistband of her skirt, but it’s enough to slow her down so I can step in line with her.

Unfortunately, it does nothing to calm down her ex.

“What are you doing with him, Mads? I told ya I came back for you. We can work this out.” He’s so drunk he sways in place, and when he attempts to reach out for her, I tug her back by her belt loops.

It is probably all kinds of inappropriate for me to be fisting the top of her skirt like a caveman, but it’s also keeping me fromswinging at a man for the first time in my life, so I don’t worry too much about it.

With her left hand, Madison reaches around and covers my fist with her own until I’m calm enough to release it, then she steps forward again and pokes her ex in the chest with her other hand.

I’ve been here long enough to know that Madison never sticks up for herself. She’s a people pleaser to her core, so she’s either had one too many cocktails or something has given her the confidence to fight back tonight.

It’s incredibly arrogant to think that I may have something to do with it, but it doesn’t stop me from hoping.

“You came back after six months, Harry. Six freaking months, only to return with excuses and not a single apology. And let’s not even discuss the lies you told, the damage you caused, or the fact that you skipped town so you wouldn’t have to face the repercussions of your actions—both times.”

“Mads—”

“Don’t,” she growls. “Don’t you Mads me. You see this?” She points to the line of men and women who have closed ranks around her. “They’re doing this, protecting me, because every person in this town knows you’re a liar, a cheat, and a miserable excuse for a human being. They were the ones here protecting me. Picking me up off the bathroom floor when I was convulsing from crying and being too scared to leave my house. They’re here for me because you’ve burned all these bridges one too many times. Even Cian stayed with you for a week to help get you sober, and he can’t stand you. And how did you repay him?”

“Fucking oxygen thief locked me in a bedroom so he could get beer,” Cian grinds out. His entire body appears to be made from stone. “You really are a twat. Move along, Harry. She’s not your girl anymore.”

“And she’s his?” the oxygen thief slurs.

Pulling Madison to my side, I step right up to this drunk bully. “Madison is her own woman. She doesn’t belong to anyone but herself. And while I’d love nothing more than to sit here and watch her berate you for another twenty minutes, you’re drunk, and we’re trying to have a good time, so why don’t you do us all a favor and head home.”

I barely get the last word out when he swings wildly. My entire focus shifts to tugging Madison out of the way, which means I allow his fist to connect with the right side of my face to ensure her safety. As soon as I know Trevon has her, I block the next hit—thank you, Ace, for making Greyson and I take so many years of self-defense courses.

Before I can hit back, all hell breaks loose. Savvy grunts like an animal as she attempts to knee Turd in the balls while Cian is holding him by his arms and dragging him toward the front door.

“Sav. Knock it off.” Cian chuckles. “Call the sheriff instead.”

The noise in the bar escalates until I can’t hear a word Madison is saying, even when I hitch at the waist and put my ear to her lips.

As the beast of a man drags out the belligerent jerk, people spin in their chairs and curse him out. There doesn’t seem to be one person in this place on his side.

My instinct is to feel bad for the guy, but I know that whatever he did to garner this kind of reaction in his hometown had to have been much worse than anything I can currently dream up.

“Braxton.” I barely catch my name but focus my attention on the woman before me.

“Are you okay?” I ask, thankful that with Cian outside, the angry voices are dying out. Slowly, the music filters back into my conscience.

“Me?” She scrunches up her nose and stares at me as though I’m not making any sense. I’ve never seen Madison pissed off. Not really. But the fire in her expression now could burn a man. “You’re the one who got punched in the face. Are you okay?”

“Mads?” the bartender calls.

She turns toward the voice and then catches a bag of ice out of midair with one hand.

“Come on, we’re leaving.” Madison takes my hand and leads me through the crowd.

Am I imagining it, or are people smirking and giving me not-so-subtle thumbs up as we pass them?

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Charlie. Grow up,” she says to a younger man who is definitely flashing two thumbs up in our direction. “Braxton, give me your keys.”

“Madison.”

She doesn’t listen and simply continues toward the door.