Wild(45)

            I clenched my jaw, tempted to take a swing at that face with those puckering fish lips. My fingers curled into a fist, ready to take a swing at his ruddy, perspiring features. “Get out of my way.”

            Then suddenly he was out of my face. Logan was there, stepping around me. He shoved Fish Lips hard against the shoulder and knocked him off balance. The guy staggered. Clearly the alcohol didn’t help his equilibrium.

            Regaining his footing, he came back at Logan with a double-handed shove.

            Logan stood his ground, hardly budging from the force. He stared Fish Lips down, indifferent to the two guys on either side of him who suddenly looked ready for a fight. I licked my lips and glanced around to see if help was coming from any of the other bouncers. Three to one weren’t the best odds.

            And then Fish Lips’s gaze flicked to the Mulvaney’s logo on Logan’s shirt, clearly recognizing him as staff. Some of the tension ebbed from him as he demanded, “What the fuck, man?”

            Some of the fight went out of his buddies, too. They no longer looked ready to jump Logan.

            Fish Lips went into instant restrained-pissed-guy mode, puffing out his chest and practically standing on his tiptoes to match Logan’s six-feet-plus frame. “What’s your problem?”

            Logan jerked his thumb in the direction of the back door. “You can take your boys and go for the night.”

            “You’re kicking us out, man?”

            “Harassing girls is something we frown on, man.”

            Fish Lips looked ready to argue, his hands flexing open and shut at his sides.

            One of Fish Lips’s friends clapped him on the back. “Let’s get out of here.”

            “Come back in here and harass any girl again and you’ll be blacklisted from Mulvaney’s,” Logan added.

            Fish Lips snarled as he started walking away with his boys, his body twisting beneath their hands. “Like I’d ever step foot in this shit hole again.”

            I turned an uncertain gaze on Logan.

            He was staring at me unwaveringly. That stare alone made me feel like I needed to apologize. For what, I didn’t know. I hadn’t done anything wrong.

            I moistened my lips. “You didn’t need to do that.”

            Both his eyebrows winged. “Oh, no?”

            I shook my head and then yelped as he grabbed my hand. “What are you doing?” I demanded over the buzz of voices as he pulled me through bodies.

            “Escorting you to your room.” He flipped up the counter, and instantly we were free of the hot press of humanity. It was like suddenly breaking through the water and taking your first deep breath of air.

            “That’s not necessary,” I said as we walked past Karla working the counter and back into the kitchen. Cook didn’t even look up from where he was shaking salt over fries. “I can make it on my own now,” I said, digging my key out.

            Logan ignored me, plucking my key from my hand and unlocking the door to the loft. Still holding on to my hand, he pulled me up the stairs after him, his feet heavy thuds on the wooden steps. “You really think it’s a good idea to live above this bar, Pearls?”

            I bristled at his use of that nickname. “It’s just for the summer.”

            “What? Mommy and Daddy won’t spring for a pimp apartment. You gotta stay here?”

            I bit back a “no.” He didn’t need to know the particulars of my life—that my parents only paid my way as long as I did exactly as they instructed.