The clubhouse was loud that night.
Music crackled through old speakers. Pool balls cracked together somewhere in the back. The smell of beer, cigarettes, and leather filled the air while members and regulars packed the room.
You were leaning against the bar, waiting for the bartender to finish pouring your drink. Chibs was across the room talking business with a few brothers. Jax was nearby, arguing with Happy over something neither of them would admit was stupid.
Normal.
For about thirty seconds.
You felt someone move beside you.
At first you ignored him.
Men approached women in bars all the time. Usually a look was enough to make them rethink their life choices.
Apparently this one was immune to common sense.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
You didn’t even glance at him.
“No.”
The guy laughed like you’d made a joke.
“C’mon, don’t be like that.”
You took your drink from the bartender and turned slightly away.
Wrong answer.
A second later you felt a hand slide onto your ass.
The entire room seemed to stop.
Not literally.
The music was still playing.
People were still talking.
But for you?
Everything slowed down.
The guy barely had time to grin before your hand shot out.
You grabbed the back of his neck.
Hard.
“What the—”
SLAM.
His face hit the edge of the bar with a sickening crack.
The wood rattled.
Bottles shook.
Blood immediately poured from his nose.
The man screamed and stumbled backward.
He didn’t get far.
You twisted his arm behind his back and drove him face-first onto the floor.
Another scream ripped from his throat.
The room fell silent.
Completely silent.
Boots stopped moving.
Conversations died.
Every eye in the clubhouse turned toward you.
The guy struggled.
Bad idea.
You planted your boot between his shoulder blades and pushed him flat against the floor.
His arm bent farther back.
Not enough to break.
Enough to make the threat believable.
“AH—!”
“Move again.”
Instantly he froze.
Blood dripped onto the concrete.
You leaned down slightly.
Your voice was calm.
Cold.
Far scarier than yelling.
“Touch me again…”
You twisted his arm another inch.
His scream echoed through the room.
“…and I break every bone in your body.”
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The guy was breathing so hard it sounded like he was choking.
Across the room, Chibs stared.
Not shocked.
Not worried.
Mostly impressed.
Happy looked downright entertained.
Tig was trying—and failing—not to laugh.
Jax pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Jesus Christ.”
“He’s alive,” Happy said.
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
The guy beneath you whimpered.
“Please—”
“You touched me.”
“I-I didn’t mean—”
“You absolutely meant to.”
Silence.
Then the sound of boots approaching.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Dangerous.
Chibs stepped into view beside you.
His eyes dropped to the bleeding man on the floor.
Then to you.
Then back to the man.
“Son.”
The guy looked up hopefully.
A mistake.
Because Chibs wasn’t looking at him with sympathy.
He was looking at him like a mechanic inspecting a broken engine.
“You touched my old lady?”
The man’s face lost what little color remained.
Around the room, several members started grinning.
Because now there were two problems.
The first was that he’d put his hands on you.
The second was that you happened to be Chibs Telford’s old lady.
And, somehow, that might’ve been the bigger mistake.
Chibs crouched beside him and sighed.
“Christ, lass.”
He glanced at the blood spreading across the floor.
“You broke his nose.”
You finally released the pressure on the man’s arm.
“Only his nose.”
A beat.
Then Chibs smirked.
“Fair point.”
Behind him, Jax shook his head.
“One day I’d like a night where my sister doesn’t put somebody in the hospital.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“Then tell people to stop touching me.”
The entire room erupted into laughter.
Even Chibs couldn’t argue with that.