So Toxic(Bad Boy Next Door Book 4)(67)

Suddenly, something in my brain sets off a warning bell. In my peripheral, a little girl with curly pigtails stands on her dad’s lap on the step below me. Old Glory hangs off the spindly stick clutched in her hand. She teeters over his shoulder. I try to block the flag pole from impaling my pole.

A poorly-timed shove from behind sends me flying forward.

I flail as I try to grab hold of anything to catch my balance. But people move faster than I can right myself. The steps rush to meet me. Pain pierces my left thigh as a similar one shoots through my still healing collarbone. I land with an oomph, half on one step, half on the other.

The people in the immediate vicinity either stand back, hands idle like they’re afraid to touch me, or they push forward to help. The dad of the flag bearer is the first to me. He offers a hand up. I take it because the stabbing sensation in my thigh is more than a twinge.

I nod and yell over the noise, “Thanks, man.”

His eyebrows knit as he stares at my leg, shaking his head.

Shit.

Blood spills over the stars and stripes.

The little girl’s cries can be heard, even with the background of booming fireworks. “My flag, Daddy!”

Daddy picks up his princess and pats her back. Leaning close to me, he hollers, “You probably shouldn’t pull that out without a doctor.”

I study it for a second. White stripes reflect pink, green, and yellow from the light show above.

Fuck it. It’s gonna have to wait. I’ve got to get to my wife.

Getting my bearings again, I search for Jo.

Her face is blocked by the cap as the guy kisses her. He’s got her over his lap as he lays one on her.

Well, I’ll be God-damned.

My teeth clench, either from seeing Jo in someone else’s arms or from the pain. Maybe both.

Doesn’t matter. This is gonna stop.

I push my way through. Less polite this time.

But as people notice the blood, they warn the others around them to make room for me. I limp as fast as I can, my blood boiling by the time I stand in front of them.

I grab Jo’s arm and pull her up at the same time as I ball my fist and deliver a blow to the jackass’s jaw. I let go of Jo and dive for the guy’s throat. The pain in my thigh magnifies by a hundred.

The fireworks drown out whatever the guy says, but I sock him another one, just on principal.

Someone grabs my arms, pulling my elbows together, sending a shaft of pain through my shoulder.

The dude with a bloodied nose stands and gets in my face. “What the hell was that for?”

“That’s my wife you’re kissing, fuck face.”

Our voices are barely audible above the artificial thunder.

“No. She’s my wife.” The guy looks to her.

Her eyes are wide and her mouth drawn as she shakes her head in denial that she knows me.

Oh, fucking hell.

She doesn’t know me.

The woman wears the same shirt that Jo has on. The bright white changes colors with each flare that goes off in the sky. Her dark hair is pulled up exactly like Jo’s.

The guy turns to me, his eyes hardening.

“Let me go.” I struggle against whoever has my arms.

As mad as this fucker looks, I’m going to need them.

A barrage of clapping and cheering accompanies what is surely the grand finale of the show as the pops, reports, and booms hit an almost frantic level.

Time seems to slow, with the guy and me staring each other down.

He’s big, but I could take him.

When the noise quiets and the applause dies, a hand lands on my bicep. “Tyson? What are you doing here?”

Jo’s eyes are every bit as big as the other woman’s, when she turns to the bleeder. “Ben? Are you all right? I—I have no idea what on Earth Ty was thinking.”

The guy swipes blood from under his nose, wiping it on his shorts. “He was thinking I was kissing you.”

Confusion flits across her face. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I saw him talking to you, then I fell.” I point to the flag hanging out of my leg. “When I got upright again, he was kissing you—I mean her. I thought it was you. I mean, you have on the same shirt and both of you have dark hair…I didn’t know.”

Jo’s glare shames me.

“Ben Carrington, Tyson Masters, my husband. Tyson, Ben is my—well, he was my new boss.” She indicates her doppelganger. “This is Ben’s wife, Madison.”

I relax, and the guy behind me lets go.

I offer a hand to Ben. “Look. I’m really sorry. Really, I am.”

Ben takes my hand and shakes his head. “No problem. If I’d have thought someone was kissing Maddi, I’d have kicked ass first and asked questions later.”

Maddi puts her arm through Ben’s. “We should probably go. The sitter will be ready to go home.”