Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2) (19 page)

"I didn't see you talking to him."

"I worked it out with my friend."

"The bouncer?"

"Yeah."

I vaguely recalled them sharing a greeting
and a few hushed words, but mostly I remembered Lawton introducing
me as his girl with a look of such pride that I practically
melted.

"I don't want you to worry about anything
tonight," Lawton said. He stood and reached for my hand. "Now
c'mon. Ready?"

I looked up at him, a silhouette of absolute
perfection. His body, his face, and the way he looked at me sent a
jolt of electricity straight through me. Nearby, a couple of girls
in slinky dresses whispered to each other and pointed. One of them
licked her lips.

I stood. I was more than ready.

A few second later, we were moving against
each other on the dance floor. I felt his hands on my hips and his
gaze on my face. The song was slow, with a rhythmic beat that
suggested sex on the beach under a full summer moon.

I moved closer, feeling our hips touch and
then grind against each other as his hands moved slowly up my back.
I moved my hands to his sides, feeling the sinewy muscles
surrounding his stomach shift and contract in time with his
movements.

I threw back my head and looked into his
eyes. The floor was packed, but from the look on his face, there
was nobody but us. I knew the feeling.

When the song ended, and a faster one took
its place, we didn't change position. I leaned closer and rested my
head against his chest. It felt so strong, so permanent, and so
amazing that I knew I'd never want to leave. Not when the song
ended, and not ever.

We stayed that way for a long time, oblivious
to everything but each other as songs came and went, just like the
dancers around us.

Finally, thirst got the better of me. I
glanced through the gyrating bodies toward our table and saw our
drinks sitting there, waiting. With a sigh, I pulled away and
pointed toward the table. "Look. Drinks."

But he didn't look toward the table. His eyes
looked thirsty, but not for the beer he'd ordered however long ago.
"Yeah? Ready to sit down?"

When I nodded, he took my hand and led me to
the table. I took a sip of my drink and choked as the fire burned
down my throat.

He eyed me with concern. "What's wrong?"

I was still coughing. "I think they made it a
double. Wait. Scratch that. Make that a triple."

He grinned. "Probably thought they were doing
you a favor."

I laughed. "Maybe. But it's not exactly
thirst-quenching, if you know what I mean."

"Want me get you a new one?"

I looked around. I didn't see our waitress.
In fact, I didn't see any waitresses. No surprise, given how
crowded the place had become. "Nah, that's alright," I told
him.

"You think so, huh?" He stood and reached for
my drink. "Wait here. I'll be back in five minutes."

I watched his back disappear into the crowd,
thinking of how nice it was to have a guy who'd go to this much
trouble without my even asking. A glance at our neighboring tables
told me I wasn't the only one. Girls, guys – it didn't seem to
matter. Something about him commanded their attention.

Did they recognize him? Or was it merely his
appearance that made people sit up and notice? I tried to think of
him as a stranger might. I recalled that first day, near the
Parkers', when I'd walked past him, standing there wearing no
shirt.

Back then, he was sex and danger. Now he was
that, and so much more.

That day, I hadn't even recognized him. But
something inside me had definitely responded. Lawton was just that
way. People loved to look at him. I felt myself smile. Of course,
they could look all they wanted, but I knew who would be touching
him tonight, and it wasn't any of these people.

Still smiling, I stood to go to the ladies
room, hoping to make the most of the time he was gone. I glanced at
the beefy guy near the dance floor. He had barely moved since
Lawton had first pointed him out to me. The way it looked, he took
his table-watching seriously.

When he saw me looking, he gave me a quick
nod, and glanced toward the table as if to assure me that
everything would still be there when I returned.

I started weaving my way through the crowd.
When I glanced at our table the next time, the guy had his back to
me, watching over the table like he feared it might escape if he
took his eye off it for one second.

The whole thing was oddly surreal. I wasn't
used to people doing things for me, even something so small as
this. It felt weird and wonderful all at the same time.

Unfortunately, the next person I ran into
wasn't quite so accommodating.

I was still looking back at the table when I
bumped into someone. Hard. I looked up. It was a massive guy, at
least seven feet tall, with a gold earring and a thick, tattooed
neck.

"Sorry," I said, shifting to move around
him.

But when I moved, he moved in exactly the
same direction, blocking my path with a low chuckle. Something
about it sent an odd shiver down my spine.

I glanced around. There were too many bodies
and no easy path to get around him, so I put my hands on my hips
and glared up at him. "What's your problem?" I said.

He looked down on me and smiled, revealing
gold grillwork over his front teeth. "So
you're
the new
one?" he said.

"The new what?"

"The new chick." He said "chick" like it was
a social disease. "Lawton's squeeze."

"Hey!" I said, "I'm no one's squeeze."

Slowly, his gaze traveled down the length of
me, stopping way too long in certain places. "No? You can be
my
squeeze, once he's done with you." With a deranged smile,
he sidled forward. "Or maybe you don’t wanna wait."

Without thinking, I took a step backward,
bumping someone behind me. I spun around and jostled a tall girl
with big hair and too much lipstick. She was holding two drinks.
One of them hit the floor. The glass shattered against the hard
surface. "Hey!" she hollered. "Look what you did!"

"Yeah," said the big guy. "Look what you
did."

Ignoring the girl, I whipped back around to
face him. I craned my neck upward, trying to decide of I should
back up slowly, or run like hell.

But suddenly, a wall appeared in front of my
face. I recognized that wall.

It was Lawton's back.

I'd never been so glad to see anything in all
my life. The lean, corded muscles in his neck and arms were a stark
contrast to the hulking guy in front of him. Still, I felt myself
swallow. The guy in front of Lawton was so much bigger. Scary
bigger. I didn't know what to do. Find a bouncer? Call for
help?

Frantically, I looked around.

"Baby," Lawton said over his shoulder. "Go
back to the table. I'll meet you there in a minute."

And leave him alone? No way. I mean, I knew I
was no use in a fight, but no way I'd just run away like I didn't
give a crap what happened to him.

Because I cared. I cared a lot.

Behind me, I heard the girl's other drink hit
the floor. "Oh my God," she said. "Is that Lawton Rastor?"

The big guy obviously heard, because he
bellowed out, "Hey, everyone! It's fucking Lawton Rastor! And his
fucking squeeze! Aren't we so fucking lucky?"

At my back, I felt a sudden drop in
temperature, like the bodies around me were sidling away. Was
everyone leaving? If so, that sounded like a damn good idea. I
reached toward Lawton's shirt, hoping to pull him away before
things got any worse.

But then, like lightning, Lawton threw back
his head. Immediately, a fist flew past his face.

But it wasn't from the guy in front of him.
It was from some new guy off to our right, a big muscle-bound guy
with complicated facial hair.

The fist had barely disappeared when Lawton's
right arm shot in the guy's direction. His fist slammed into the
guy's ear.

"Motherfucker!" the guy yelled, staggering
backward, and then off to the side, like he couldn't quite keep his
balance.

"Chloe," Lawton said in a warning tone,
"you'd better not still be there."

From the tone of his voice, he knew exactly
where I was, and he wasn't happy.

Slowly, I began to back up. I didn't stop
until I felt the warmth of the crowd at my back. My heart was
racing. I looked around. Where was the bouncer? Where was anyone?
Should I dial 911?

Ahead of me, the first guy took a swing at
Lawton's face. Lawton swatted the fist away, leaving the guy's face
wide open. That's when Lawton's right fist shot out, slamming hard
into the center of the guy's face.

He staggered backward, and his hands flew to
his nose. A river of blood poured between his fingers. "My nose!
You fuckin' broke it, you asshole!"

With a guttural roar, the guy off to the
right charged toward Lawton. Without changing direction, Lawton
gave him a hard elbow to the neck. The guy dropped to the ground,
wheezing. With barely a glance, Lawton kicked him in the side,
sending the guy rolling onto his back.

The first guy, his face a bloody mess,
barreled toward Lawton head-first. Lawton's fist flew out toward
the guy's mid-section, hitting him hard enough to double him over.
With a half-moan, half-wheeze, the guy dropped to his knees.

Finally, the bouncers made their appearance.
I recognized one of them as Lawton's friend, a black guy in a black
T-shirt with the club's logo. He looked down at the second guy,
still lying on his back. "Snake, you dumb-ass. Not again."

With something like a sigh, Lawton's bouncer
friend grabbed one of Snake's booted feet in each hand and started
dragging him toward the exit.

The first guy, now on his hands and knees,
raised his head and muttered, "That son-of-a-bitch broke my nose!"
He glared at Lawton. "Third fuckin' time. You cock-sucker."

Lawton took a step toward him and grabbed him
by the collar of his shirt. His voice was quiet, but it carried
over the now silent club. "You wanna fuck with me? Fine. Fuck with
me all you want. But if you ever fuck with my girl again—"

He leaned close to the guy's ear and said
something that only they could hear. The guy glanced at me, and I
almost heard him swallow. When Lawton finally released him, the guy
looked around the quiet crowd. "What the fuck are you lookin' at?"
he said as he rose unsteadily to his feet and stumbled toward the
exit.

And then, somewhere behind me, I heard a
girl's voice, a different one from the first, say, "Holy shit, was
that Lawton Rastor?"

Five minutes later I fell, laughing, into the
passenger's seat of his car. I never did get my drink, which was
probably a good thing. My head was spinning so fast, my body could
barely keep up.

I should've been horrified. Hell, I
was
horrified. But I was something else too. And it had me
rubbing my thighs together as I settled into the passenger's
seat.

Lawton closed my car door and strode around
the front of the car. I watched him through the window. With a soft
sigh, I watched him move.

That long, easy stride, those wary eyes, the
way his muscles shifted in time with his movements. It was a visual
symphony that had me wanting more than just a look.

He was every girl's fantasy.

He was
my
fantasy. And he was mine in
real life too. For how long, I had no idea. I knew it wouldn't be
forever. In real life, things like that didn't happen. He'd go on
to marry a movie star or a socialite, or no one at all. And I'd – I
bit my lip – I didn't know what I'd do.

But I knew what I wanted to do now.

I turned sideways in the seat to face him. I
watched as he settled into the driver's seat and slammed the door
shut behind him.

"That was interesting," I said.

He gave me a look. "That's one way to put
it."

I felt my eyebrows furrow. "Are you mad at me
or something?"

He turned straight ahead, studying the dimly
lit parking lot. "No."

"Are you sure?"

Cast in shadows, I watched him in profile. He
didn't answer, and he didn't move so much as a muscle.

"You are," I said.

Slowly, he shook his head.

I reached out, placing a hand on his thigh.
"Then what is it?"

He turned to face me, and his hand closed
over mine. "You could've been hurt," he said.

"But I wasn't."

"But you could've been."

"So
that's
why you're mad at me?"

His hand tightened. "No. Baby. Not you.
Me
."

"Why you?" I kept my tone light. "You rescued
me. You're the hero of this story, not the villain."

"You sure about that?"

"Definitely."

"Oh yeah?" he said. "Well, let me ask you
something? You ever have that happen before?"

"What?" I said.

"You ever have some stranger come up and give
you crap for no good reason?"

"Well, I
am
a waitress," I said. "So,
yeah. It happens to me all the time, actually."

"You know what I mean." He leaned toward me,
over the center console. "I shouldn’t have left you alone."

"Why not? I don't need a bodyguard."

"That place," he said. "I mean it's nice
enough." He shook his head. "But the crowd. Shit." He reached over,
brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. Something in his voice
changed. "I wanted to kill him."

"Which one?"

"Both."

"Well, you did a pretty good job of
half
-killing them, so that's gotta count for something,
right?"

He gave me a look. "I can laugh at a lot of
things, Chloe. But seeing you hurt isn't one of them."

"Except I
wasn't
hurt." I grinned over
at him. "I wasn't even touched. So there."

He closed his eyes as if shutting out an
image too painful to watch. "But you could've been."