“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I underestimated you. Really, I never thought you’d stoop so low. Jude Kingston?! Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice keeps climbing. Though I’m afraid to glance around the bar, I can feel lots of eyes on me.
I don’t know how much he knows about Jude and me, but right now, I just need to focus on getting him calmed down. Because I’m nervous about the rage he’ll fly into if he comes face-to-face with his former friend right now. I feel helpless. And the music is so loud, I can hardly hear the frantic thoughts crashing about inside my head.
I just want him out the door. Maybe if security sees his drunken ass, they’ll deal with him?
His eyes turn absolutely feral as he leans into me. “Stop trying to squirm away from me,” he threatens. “You’re going to listen to me, bitch, and you’re going to—”
Just as I open my mouth to scream for help, my ex-husband's grip disappears. The sudden movement makes me trip over my own feet. My hip crashes into a nearby table—ouch!—but I’m just grateful to be out of Kirk’s painful grip.
When I’m steady on my feet again, I look up into the dark, protective eyes of my rescuer.
My sexy-ass new boyfriend.
Jude Kingston.
43
Jude
It takes all my self-restraint not to go elbowing my way across the packed room when I see Kirk crowding Iris against a booth.
The bartender slides my two drinks across the counter and stretches a hand full of change to me, but I’m too focused on Iris to pay the guy any mind. I slide off my stool and stalk slowly over the distance. They were together for years. I don’t want to go charging into the situation like a fucking neanderthal if all Iris is looking for is a conversation to bring a little bit of closure with her ex. I wouldn’t want to deprive her of that if it’s what she needs.
Instantly, I think back to that night a few weeks ago, when he had showed up at her door, spouting his venom and jealousy. I never told her about that incident. I’d wanted to shield her from her ex’s melodrama and accusations. But now, I wish I had said something to her. At least then she would have had her guard up against the pathetic raging idiot.
Iris shifts to the side, just long enough that I get a glimpse of her face. I discover a moment of dark terror on her pretty features that I have never witnessed before.
Fuck.
They are not having a hushed heart-to-heart, tying up loose ends between former spouses. That rat bastard is bullying her.
Drinks long forgotten, now I’m tearing my way through the crowd. When I realize that Kirk has his hands on my woman, I’m overtaken by a violent, territorial rage that swells in my bones. Then I’m right there, seizing my former friend by the back of the shirt and yanking him away from Iris. My girl yelps.
He stumbles into a neighboring table, clearly not his best self right now. I’m tempted to lay his ass out, but considering the way he’s already teetering around, I decide against it. I don’t have much desire to put someone in the ground tonight.
I turn to find Iris crouched by a table. Her diamond blue eyes are wide with fear when they meet mine. I’m reaching out to catch her elbow and hold her up, when she looks past my shoulder and shouts, “No!”
I’m blindsided by a concrete fist to the side of my face. I blink, dazed. I sure as shit was not expecting that kind of thing from someone I once called my best friend.
Arms up and ready, I twist, but I’m too late. Kirk is already charging me like a bull. His shoulder connects with my gut, stealing my breath and sending us both to the ground.
We wrestle around on the floor. But Kirk forgot one key point; he’s not a goddamnned professional athlete. I have at least 50 pounds on him, all muscle, even despite my recent injury. I leverage my upper body to flip him and gain control. My legs pin his struggling body to the sticky hardwood as I get in a few solid jabs. My fist connects with his jaw. Then his nose. Blood flies when I punch him a third time.
I hear screams in the background. Iris’s voice rises above the frenzied sounds of the bar crowd.
Too far. Too far, asshole, something in me cries out.
I untangle my body from Kirk’s, rising to my feet and stepping away. “That’s enough,” I shout above the noise. My chest rises with each deep inhale. “Enough!”
Cellphones are pointed in my face recording the spectacle. Fuck…
He struggles, standing and dripping blood on the floor. “You always had to have everything for yourself,” he seethes, his venom filling the air with a putrid stench. “All the attention, all the pussy, all the glory. Fuck, now you’ve gotta take my wife, too.”
A hushed murmur rises from the crowd. I can only imagine Iris’s face heating with mortification. I feel the unshakeable need to defend her reputation. “She’s not your wife, Kirk. You fucked that up all on your own.”
His eyes narrow down to hateful blades. “I always suspected it was you. You’re the one who broke us up in college. It was you who put those pictures in her dorm room. I know it. You son of a bitch.”
“Son of a what?!”
For years, I felt guilty for betraying Kirk by slipping those photos under the door of Iris’s dorm room. Right now, I don’t give a fuck. This guy is begging for another punch in the face.
But Iris is gripping my arm now, shaking it. “Jude, is that true? It was you? You slipped the pictures under my door?”
Guilt bulges inside my ribcage. “I can explain…” I say weakly. The classic line used by jackasses the world over.
Nice going, Jude.
I try to take her hand but
