Raw and Dirty(14)

She comes down the last step and moves toward me in a pair of black platform heels. Her arms are literally covered in tattoos from shoulder to wrist, swirls of hearts and rainbows and butterflies. She's pretty, but a little scary, too. And she looks pissed.

I do not have time for this.

I keep smiling anyway. Well, until she gets way too close to me, invading my personal space bubble and leaning close to my ear.

“Stay the fuck away from Royal.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, reeling back and giving her a look that's got to be pretty similar to the one Kailey threw at me when Royal pulled down my hair. “I'm sorry, I think I misheard you.”

“No,” the girl says, standing up straight and glaring down at me. She's a good six inches taller than me. Add in the three inch heels she's wearing and our height difference is almost as extreme as mine and Royal's. “You heard me right.”

I lift my hands up in mock surrender.

“Look, I don't know who you are—”

The girl cuts me off before I can finish.

“That's exactly right. You don't know who I am because you appeared out of thin air yesterday. You don't know anything about this club and you sure as shit don't know anything about its president. I've been here too long, been through way too much crap to lose out to some bitch in a suit.”

“I think we might have a slight misunderstanding,” I say, hoping I can cool this situation down before Kailey realizes that something else is going on. I've given her enough dirt for today. Not that I think she'd ever use it, but it never hurts to be cautious. “My name is Lyric Rentz, and—”

“I don't give two shits about who you are,” she hisses at me, crossing her arms over her flat chest. Her eyes are dark, like Royal's, but instead of a feral wildness, she just looks mean. I hate to judge, but what the hell did I do to deserve this? “He's this close to picking me up as his old lady, and I don't need you to waltz in here and screw things up.”

“Old lady?” I ask, my voice rising in pitch as I look her up and down. She's hot enough, that's for sure, tall and skinny and flawless. It wouldn't surprise me if he was interested in her. But then why was he just kissing me? I don't know what she thinks I'm up to, but all I'm trying to do is figure out what the hell I did to provoke her.

“You don't think I'm good enough?” she asks me, her red painted mouth turning down in a deep frown. The expression should look silly on her, but it doesn't. Every movement she makes oozes sex and sensuality.

“No,” I start, but what I really meant to say was No, I don't think that at all. Instead, I barely get the single syllable out before the woman's throwing herself at me, hitting me right in the eye with an impressive right hook.

My head snaps back and I stumble, but I'm not about to go down without a fight. I'm not exactly sure what it is that we're fighting for, but I won't be pushed around.

I duck down and avoid a second hit to the face, bringing my left fist up and under the woman's chin. I don't wait, following that up with my right, drawing a bright bloom of blood from her nostrils as I slam my palm into her nose.

A wild shriek escapes her lips as she full on launches herself at me, knocking us both to the pavement as the skies crack and rain starts to fall with a wild vengeance. When it rains, it pours, right?

We scramble around on the ground for a moment as I struggle to shove her off of me, instead settling on flipping us over so that I'm on top. While I attempt to grab her wrists and stop the fight in its tracks, Tattoo Girl is far more intent on getting in as many hits as she can. Her knee comes up and hits me right in the lady parts, hard enough to make me scream as she tosses me aside, my own knees skimming across the pavement and drawing blood.

When she climbs on top of me and grabs my hair, all bets are off. I don't start fights, but I'm a woman in politics; I know how to finish them.

“Get the fuck off me!” I scream, slamming my elbow back and hitting the bitch right in the tit. Goddamn it! I'm fighting over a guy I don't even know, that I don't even want. More proof that I need to run away from all of this while I still can.

If I'd only known then how much worse it would all get.

Ah, hindsight. You're always twenty-twenty, aren't you, you sadistic bastard?

I throw my elbow back again and draw a satisfied grunt from Tattoo Girl, her grip loosening on my hair. That's when I hear the pound of boots and Kailey's shocked scream. In an instant, the weight is off of my back and I'm being hauled to my feet by rough, calloused hands—hands covered in roses.

It's Royal. Of course it's Royal.

“Ladies,” he says, his voice holding that false brightness, that wry amusement that lets him pretend he's normal and nice when he's everything but. I jerk my arm from his grip and he lets me go. “There's no need to fight, plenty of me to go around.”