Entice (24 page)

Hifuckinglarious.

Chapter 23

Good Luck Schmuck

—Emmett—

I
t’s Saturday, Halloween in fact, when I really feel it. Not the usual flutterings, but an all-out kick. “Sawyer! Hurry, come here!”

He rushes in, in his Hugh Hefner costume, full sprint. “Baby, what? What?”

I grab his hand and place it on my stomach. “He—she kicked. You have to—”

“Holy shit!” We smile at each other and fall into a fit of giddy, shocked laughter when the baby kicks his hand. Without moving, he goes to his knees. “Happy Halloween, no name.”

“Ah, no name, how sad.” I frown down at him. “We’re awful parents already.”

We wait, neither of us moving a muscle, for another kick…that doesn’t come. Halloween night will pack The K, so we’re forced to give up for now and head to work, Sawyer in his velvet robe, me, of course, in a bunny outfit. Guess who won the coin toss to pick our costumes.

Laney’s not old enough to help work, or even be in the bar, for that matter, but low and behold, she greets us as we walk in, dressed as a referee.

“It’s not a costume if you had the shit in your closet, Gidge,” Sawyer teases, lifting her off the ground in a hug.

“Hardy har har. I only had the shoes. And the whistle. You look cute, Emmett.” She tugs on my ear. “Lose a bet to Hugh here?”

I nod, tickled. “I need to hop to the bathroom before I get started. I’ll see you both later?”

“Yeah, right,” Sawyer scoffs loudly. “Laney, will you go to the bathroom with her? And who’s watching you? This place is crawling with horny college guys, ya’ll stay in sight and if you need to go to the bathroom or locker room, go in a pair.” He scowls back and forth between us. “I’m not kidding. Em, you take One tonight.”

He means Section One, the two straight rows of tables directly in front of the bar, where he’ll be. “Okay,” I smooch my lips and huff, wanting my kiss before I pee myself. When I get it, I grab Laney’s hand. “Seriously, I’ve gotta go. Come on, buddy.”

Thankfully there’s not a line yet at the public bathroom, the closest one to me, but by the time I use the bathroom, wash my hands and walk back out, at least a hundred people have packed inside—it was that quick.

“Dayummm,” Laney mutters, staring at the sea of bodies before us.

I mentally pep myself up, squaring my shoulders with resolution. “At least I’ll make great money! Let’s do this!”

W
hen you wait tables in a bunny costume, you’re going to get hit on, I know this, but the comments are growing louder and more crude as the hour gets later. I handle it, in one bunny ear and out the other, always keeping a straight face, remarkably well, I’d say. Not only does a non-reaction discourage them, but it keeps Sawyer at bay.

He’s great behind the bar, but even better at never taking one eye off me. If he sees a strong reaction from me, he’ll know someone got too far out of line and be in their face before I can blink.

Knowing all this, I still let it happen.

On a night like this, faces blend together and all voices sound the same, everything an impatient yell over the music. Tables empty and fill without ever seeing the exchange. Sweat drips down the back of my neck, my calves ache, but I suck it up and work for the almighty dollar, eyes on the prize, the only constant awareness the beautiful man behind the bar.

So how I pick out one voice, I’ll never know. Apparently, I know the sound of trouble when I hear it.

“What time you get off, cottontail?”

I attempt to ignore him, emptying the tray as fast as I can and trying to scurry around the opposite side of the table, but he’s quicker, grabbing me around the waist and hauling me up against his front.

“I asked you a question.” He grabs my arm and spins me around, his nails digging painfully into my flesh causing my tray to crash to the ground. “You’re awful cute.” He’s too close to my face, his rancid breath reeking of the Jim Beam he’s been ordering all night, and I suddenly feel very nauseous.

“L-let me go,” I choke out past the bubble of fear and vulnerability caught in my throat.

“Let her go, man,” one of his friends tries to urge him, but it only seems to egg him on.

He leans in close to my throat and loudly sniffs all the way up it. “You smell awful sweet, think I need me a taste.”

“Em?” And this is when I really panic, because as relieved I am to hear Sawyer’s voice right beside me now, I know this is going to end badly. “Dude, you want to get your fucking hands off her?” Sawyer pushes on his forearm, but the guy doesn’t release me, rather firming his grip.

“Not really, friend. We’re getting to know each other. Aren’t we, sugar?”

I shake my head, my mouth opening and closing, trying to back away. “N-no, not at all.”

“Let. Her. Go,” Sawyer hisses at the man, his eyes glued to where the grubby, intrusive fingers sting my flesh.

“What’s the problem here?” Oh thank God, Dane’s here. He’ll ask him to leave, Sawyer won’t go crazy, and it’ll all be okay.

“No problem, man,” the guy answers Dane, finally letting go of me and putting up both hands in mock innocence. “Simply trying to talk to the pretty help ya got here. Think big boy there might be a little butt hurt, though,” he turns to his table of friends and grins evilly, “seeing as how his bitch wants me.”

“Dane,” Sawyer snarls, “I need you to take Emmett, now.”

“No!” I find my voice, loud and panicked. “Sawyer, no, it’s not worth it. Please.” I pull on his arm, turning to Dane. “Just kick him out, Dane, please.”

I’ve seen Sawyer’s passion, his love, his sweet, his gentleness…if his angry is backed with half as much power as his other emotions, this will not end well.

Sawyer and Dane share a look, as though I’m not even there, begging, and Dane gives him a curt nod. “Let’s go, Em,” he barks right before I’m scooped up in his arms.

I see Laney scrambling through the crowd, trying to catch us, and I call out to her. “Laney! Laney, help!” I point to where things are about to get very ugly, kicking and struggling against Dane. “Go get Sawyer!”

We whirl around fast and Dane screams at her. “Laney, no! Follow me, now, no questions!”

She looks to Sawyer, then me, back again, then finally to Dane. Nodding, she jogs to us, sheer terror on her face. “I’ve got her, baby, go help Saw,” she says, patting Dane on the back. “The other guy has friends.”

“And he’ll need every single one of them, I assure you.” He sets me down and places my hand in Laney’s. “Up to my office, door locked. Don’t test me, Emmett,” he points in my face, “and don’t fight Laney. Now go!”

We both jump at his harsh voice but immediately comply, Laney dragging me toward the stairs. I look back and start to cry; Sawyer’s already got one hand wrapped around the guy’s throat and is dragging him outside. All I can do at this point is pray Dane stops Sawyer short of killing him.

—Sawyer—

T
his piece of shit may not make it. Glaring at him, I see more than just his bad-mannered, prick self, but rather the manifestation of all the wrong that’s been done to Emmett at the hands of unmanly men. Her wide, terrified eyes were like windows, showing me that she too was thinking of a time when another man thought she was nothing more than a plaything.

He’s struggling against my grip around his larynx, using both hands to grab and pull at mine while his feet drag and try to gain leverage. Dane enters my vision from the side. “Sawyer,” he warns lowly. “Outside. I got the friends.”

No fucking shit. Where ya think I’m going?

I bash his forehead against the bar on the back door to open it, tossing him outside roughly. He’s not even off his back by the time I get my costume off—I’m not fighting in a fucking robe.

“Stand up!” I grab his collar and yank him to his feet. “That woman you put your hands on? That’s my woman, whom I love very much. She has rights. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Fuck you.” He spits in my face. “Why don’t you chill out, man? Just having some fun. No big deal.”

The first punch is to the gut. When he bends with the blow, my knee comes up to clock his nose and I revel in the snapping sound it makes, the blood soaking my leg. “That’s for touching her!” I yank his head back up by his hair and return the favor of spit in his face. “You can’t be a gentleman, don’t fucking drink.”

He swings his right arm clumsily and I let him land it on the side of my jaw before I laugh. “That all you fucking got? Come on, big man, show me how you overpower people. Grab my arm, tell me what to do!” I push him away from me, letting him regain his bearings. Isn’t that what guys like him get off on, the power, the toying with them? “Come on, show me.” I wiggle both hands toward myself.

He roars, coming at me, both fists up…and that’s as far as he gets, his best effort. One crack, straight out and back, and I lay his lip wide open.

“Come on, Mary, you got it,” I taunt him.

All I see is a morph of this pudsmack, putting his hands on my sweet Emmett, and the other guy who thought it was okay to hurt her. I want to show them both what it means to hurt—how fucking dare they touch her! Her fear, her helplessness… She’s so tiny, so fragile… I have to swallow a sob of pain at the same time as my growl. I want blood. I want her revenge for her.

I lunge for him, but he’s backing up, waving his hands. “I’m-I’m sorry,” he whimpers, wiping his mouth and spitting blood on the ground.

“Yeah, you’re pretty sorry all right.” Left, right, I make it rain, every blow for Emmett. “You,” gut punch, “don’t hurt,” another to the nose, “women,” right hook that puts him flat on his back. I stand over the top of him, pulling him up by his collar again ‘cause this kid can’t stay off the ground, and rear back my fist, punching him over and over…trapped in a haze of red. Red, my sweet girl. Punches, kicks, rage flows out of me in a rhythm over which I have no control…

“Sawyer!”

I leer down at this worn out, poor excuse of a man, hands on my hips, my chest heaving. I move to go after him again, but Dane stops me, both hands braced against my chest.

“He’s done, and so are you.”

“He fucking hurt her, he—”

“I know, I know, man.”

“Why do they think they can touch her?”

“Sawyer, she’s safe, bud. You took care of it. Breathe, man, she’s fine.”

He gives me a minute to walk around, my head back and my hands on my hips, sucking in fresh air.

“You good?” he finally asks.

I nod, shaking out my hands, consciously directing my breathing back to normal.

“Go on then, driver’s waiting. Straight to my house.”

“Emmett?” I look around, as though she’ll appear. “Where’s Emmett?”

“Already on her way there. Go.”

“What about,” I look to beaten man on the ground, “him?”

“I got it. Go.” He hands me my costume and I hustle the hell out of there.

Chapter 24

Life As We Knew It

—Emmett—

L
aney’s holding me, stroking my hair and singing, as I sob quietly but unstoppably with my head in her lap. She is a terrible singer, truly so bad that I can’t even think of a metaphor to describe the severity of her tone-deaf caterwauling, but she certainly puts her whole heart into it and knows every word to every song written for a Disney movie.

“Somebody’s here,” she whispers, taking a break from “A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes.”

I don’t even lift my head. I know it can’t be Sawyer, he’s probably in jail right now, so what’s it matter... Honestly, Dane’s house is so big, someone could be robbing the whole bottom floor and I doubt we’d hear it, so I think she’s probably mistaken.

“Want me to go see who it is?”

“Not really.” I clench onto her leg. “Stay with me, I think you’re hearing things.”

“No, the alarm chimed, somebody entered the code.” Oh, well that explains that at least.

Loud, heavy footsteps start to rumble down the hallway, in our direction, and I pop up. He’s here! I know it’s Sawyer, Dane doesn’t sound like a herd of elephants when he walks. I scramble to a sitting position and quickly swipe beneath my eyes; I don’t want him to see I’ve been crying. He’s had a rough enough night without my hysterics adding more stress.