I didn’t know what to say. I had my kids young. Kid, I corrected myself. Janet wasn’t mine. A familiar ache settled in my chest as I forced myself to remember that my little girl really wasn’t mine.

Jake was the best thing I’d ever done, but I’d always assumed one day I’d have more. Shit, I’d always thought I’d have kids with Lee. One day, though, not now. “We’re not ancient, asshole. People have kids until they’re in their late forties. You’ve got time.”

“You think I don’t know that?” he snapped. I understood his frustration. “But every time she gets her period, she’s devastated. She won’t sleep, she barely eats, and unless she’s with Molly, she doesn’t smile.”

I thought back over the last few days. Lee had smiled, but the easy-going humor she normally had, along with the ability to sling instant comebacks, had been noticeably absent. “That’s why you’re not pissed about the manager gig.”

He nodded. “I was hoping it’d keep her mind off everything else. But it isn’t working. I’m fucking lost, Carson. I don’t know what to do.”

I scanned the room again, trying to find words of support for my friend. I hadn’t seen him this lost, or this worried, since Lee left him years ago. Before I could say anything, though, a woman caught my eye and I turned all of my attention to her.

She was obviously here to party, wearing the same kind of barely-there dress that half the women here tonight had on. The kind that was supposed to tell every guy in the room that she was available and looking for a good time, when in reality, it turned most of them away. That’s not what made me focus on her, though.

No, I could give two fucks about her clothes, or lack of. It was the stiffness in her movements, the murderous look she wore, and the way she shoved her way across the floor that had the hair rising on my arms. She took a few more steps and I knew she was headed straight for Mols.

I handed Nate my empty bottle, or at least I think I did, and I ran down the steps, taking two at a time. I was tall enough so I could just make out the woman’s head as it weaved through the crowd, getting closer to my girl. Most people took one look at me and hurried out of my way, clearing the path, not wanting to get plowed over, and I was able to make up time. I swore when I realized she was a few steps in front of me; I’d never make it in time.

Chapter Seven

~ Molly ~

I smiled at Pete, the tall, dark and handsome man who had joined me, beyond thankful that I had found someone like him to spend my evening with, and leaned a little closer so I could hear what he had to say over the God awful music that played through the speakers. When he’d first sat down on the stool next to me, I’d offered a polite smile to the cute stranger in the khakis and a polo, and turned back to my phone, waiting for Lia to come find me. Thankfully, Pete hadn’t taken the not so subtle hint and started up a conversation anyway.

I wasn’t sure how long we’d been talking, but I’d sipped my way through three Angry Orchards, and was now working on a glass of water. I’d learned that Pete worked the door at the club, and had only gotten into the party because he and his buddy were supposed to be working. At the last minute, his boss had sent him home, but one of the roadies had invited him in. I was so glad they had. He was funny and attractive, and the perfect solution to my current long walk in the Sahara.

Until he became a mirage.

I didn’t see the woman until she was right next to me, forcing her way between us, screaming, “You cheating piece of shit!”

I pulled away in surprise. He’d told me he was single. How awesome that I’d believed him.

It was an even bigger surprise when I realized that she wasn’t talking to Pete. No, her eyes never left me, implying I was the scum she’d addressed. I made the mistake of looking at Pete, hoping that he didn’t actually know this bucket of crazy. He avoided my gaze, staring at the drink in his hand as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Don’t you fucking look at him, you sleazy ass skank!” She was screaming again, this time, stepping into my face. “Haven’t you learned your lesson yet? What’s it gonna take for you to leave another woman’s man alone?”

Of course. Fucking typical. I’m at the bar, minding my own goddamn business when he approached me, but somehow, it’s my fault. Once again, the cheater is never at fault. Stupid assbackward society.

I held up my hands in surrender. “Oh, the prince is all yours, sweet pea.”

Her face turned bright red and she fumbled over her words. “He’s—”

“He’s what?” I interrupted. “A cheater? A lying sack of shit? And most likely the proud owner of a small dick?”

“You stuck up bitch!” she howled. “He’s—”

Before she could tell me exactly what she thought Pete was, a mountain of a man moved between us, his voice calm and controlled. “Ma’am, I need you to take a step back.”

“Fuck off, monkey man. This is between me and that whore.”

“Back away. Now,” Mike commanded. I hated when he used that tone on me, and knew that the woman was also getting the death glare.

“Eat shit.”

I snorted at her reply. Mike blocked my view so I couldn’t see what was happening, but at least they were yelling loud enough for me to hear. Then, I realized that someone had turned the music down and everyone around us had begun to watch the showdown—most had their cameras out.

So much for a boring night.

“Time for you to leave.” Mike moved slightly—giving me enough room to finally squeeze off my stool—and grabbed Pete’s incredibly lucky girlfriend by the arm to move her out of the way.

Nothing in my life could ever be simple, though.

“Hey!” Pete was now screaming, his face scrunched in anger. “Don’t you fucking touch her!” He flung his arm out, grabbing a fistful of Mike’s suit jacket, and tried to yank him backward. Pete wasn’t nearly as strong as he thought he was, though, and the only thing he managed to do was become the focus of one very pissed off bodyguard.

So much happened in the next few seconds that if I hadn’t been there to see, I would have sworn it was all fake. The woman took full advantage when Mike turned his back on her, and lunged at me, shoving my back into the hard edge of the bar. Her hands were in my hair, pulling at it painfully, before my mind registered what was happening.

Before I could fight back, she was wrenched off me, and pushed to the side. Pete chose that moment to throw a sucker punch at the side of Mike’s head. Mike turned, landing a punch of his own, following it with another. The girlfriend grabbed a bottle from the bar and flew at Mike. Nate came out of nowhere, knocking the weapon from her hand, and she attacked him the same way she had me—grabbing a handful of hair and smacking him across his face repeatedly.

Nate was doing his best to block little miss crazy, but I knew he would never hit a girl, and she was full of piss and vinegar and not backing down. I didn’t think. Not about the cameras pointing my way, not about tomorrow’s headlines, and not about my own safety. I just wanted her to get the fuck away from my friends.

I didn’t fight like a girl. I never had. When you lived the way I had in my teens and early twenties, with no one to stand up for you, you learn that fists and elbow and knees were the way to go.

Her nails dug into my skin, no doubt leaving gouges as I stepped in front of Nate and became her target. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t expecting Molly Ray to haul off and punch her in the nose, or the right hook to her chin that followed. She stumbled back, and I followed, stalking her, waiting for her to try to hit me again. She screamed, threw out insults that would have made even me cry, but at that moment, I didn’t care.