Part 52 (1/2)

Noah stood over him, his shoulders squared, his eyes blazing with hate and anger. Like a herd of sheep, the crowd instantly parted from the scene of the fight, as entranced by the display of power as I was. Noah circled the fallen man before he grabbed him by the s.h.i.+rt collar and pulled him up until he was hanging like a rag doll, his tip-toes just barely sc.r.a.ping the floor.

Noah didn't even scream at him. He let him hang there for a few horrible seconds, terrified, staring into the face of pure hatred. Then he threw him hard into the bar, where his face connected with counter edge and let out a sickening thud. The drunk collapsed to the floor in an agonizing heap.

I was still pressed against the wall, too shocked to move. Kevin came around from behind the bar, carrying a beat-up baseball bat and looking ready to fight. When he saw Noah standing over the man, he dropped the bat and helped Noah pick him up. A few other men stepped up to give a hand and together they dragged the motherf.u.c.ker out of the club.

The band kept playing, and most of the show-goers didn't even notice.

Noah came back inside and immediately made his way over to me at the wall. A few people had already gathered gently around me, asking if I was okay. He patted each of them on the shoulder as he pushed by them to get to me. As soon as he was close enough, he gripped my head between his hands and forced me to look him in the eyes.

”Are you all right?” he asked.

I hadn't even had time to consider the question. In a split second I went from feeling that disgusting man's hands all over me to watching him get beat up by Noah Hardy. It was all too much, too fast.

Noah seemed to sense that. He rubbed his thumbs over my cheeks, his expression crumpled and worried, before kissing the top of my head and leading me away from the wall with an arm around my shoulder.

We ended up in the back room of the bar where Kevin kept the kegs and did all his was.h.i.+ng for the place. The room was a bit quieter, m.u.f.fling the sounds from the stage. Kevin brought us all shots and joined us in a quick drink before he rushed back out to deal with his full house of customers.

The whiskey helped. I felt my muscles loosening under the warmth. Slowly, my mind started to reconnect with the rest of my body.

Noah only stood in front of me, holding my hand, rubbing it gently in his. He waited. ”Did he hurt you?”

I shook my head immediately. ”No, no.” He had grabbed my breast pretty hard, but already the pain was fading. ”It just happened so fast, it scared the s.h.i.+t out of me.”

”I can't f.u.c.king believe that just happened in my club,” said Noah with an angry shake of his head. ”If that a.s.shole dares show his face around here again, he won't live to regret it.”

My mind was racing with confusion. Noah really was violent, he had just proven that beyond a doubt-as if his record didn't already prove it. And yet as angry as he was, and as badly as he hurt that dude, he still didn't kill him. He still showed restraint, and in a moment when probably everyone else in this club would have understood if he hadn't.

Noah was violently loyal. He'd give up everything to protect his roots; and he'd kill to protect his friends. Or his girl.

Is that what I was?

He seemed to suddenly be aware of the weight of his words, given the situation. Noah's face flushed, and the hand stroking my hair slowed. His eyes darted around. ”I mean... f.u.c.k, I... I really should not have said that.”

I grasped the hand on the side of my face and brought it to my mouth for a gentle kiss. ”No. Don't apologize. I'm lucky you were here to protect me.”

Something like hope flashed across Noah's face. He mimicked my affection and brought my hand to his lips, pursing them there against my skin with his eyes closed.

”We can get out of here,” he said. ”I understand if you don't want to stay in here after that.”

I stroked his beard and smiled. ”You're sweet to worry. But I'm okay, really.”

”What if I said I wanted to get out of here?”

I shrugged. ”I'd say sure. Metalcore never really was my jam.”

”There's just too many people here tonight,” said Noah. ”There's too much in my head tonight. I want to go somewhere peaceful with you.”

”Sounds wonderful,” I said.

”Good,” said Noah, taking my hand. ”Come with me.”

~ Twelve ~

Noah

After what happened in the club, all I could think about was getting Laurel somewhere safe. Even though she'd been to shows a million times and had no doubt dealt with way worse jerkoffs than the dude who groped her tonight, it felt like I had personally failed her. All this rumbled around my head silently as I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to my side on the dark, winding drive.

Not too many miles from my house, in the more isolated parts of Thornwood, a small river tributary ran through the dark woods. The flat, soft beaches created by the slow-moving parts of the river were popular places for peace and quiet, and one in particular had always calmed me down. A makes.h.i.+ft parking lot of gravel carved on the side of the unkempt highway road was the only indicator that anything was worth stopping for. Tonight, we were the only ones here. I pulled my truck to a stop in the dark.

”Is this the part when they find my body wrapped in plastic on the beach, and you start having crazy dreams about red curtains and giants?” said Laurel as she looked around through the windows.

”Why don't you sound sadder about that possibility?” I laughed.

”Hey, I like a good mystery as much as the next girl.”

I kissed the top of her head. ”I come here sometimes when things get too loud. I've got some dry firewood in the tool box in the back. What do you say we have a little bonfire?”

”That sounds lovely!” said Laurel with a smile. ”Isn't it funny when you live your life around heavy music, but still need so much quiet sometimes? People always gave me s.h.i.+t for that.”

With a smirk, I nodded. ”They're not living their fullest lives without both.”

Laurel smiled up at me like we had a secret together. She leaned up my body and kissed me sweetly, still with the same s.e.xual hunger she always seemed to possess, but with an added tenderness. Was that there before? Or was I just now noticing it myself? The thoughts melted away when I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her close, into the kiss.

Before she could get me so hard I couldn't say no, I pulled away from the kiss and got out of the truck, helping her out behind me. The firewood was wrapped in plastic and wedged in the toolbox; by the time I got it out and turned around, Laurel was already s.h.i.+vering in the unexpectedly cool night air. She had dressed for a night indoors at the Graveyard Club, and I hadn't thought to have her grab a jacket before we left her car at the lot.

”Oh, f.u.c.k, sugar,” I said, dropping the wood on the ground. Keys fumbling, I pulled the truck door open and dug around until I felt the fabric of the spare sweats.h.i.+rt I always kept in the cab. After giving it a firm shake and a smell, it seemed clean and dry. I turned it over to the front and realized it was my old Rising End sweats.h.i.+rt.

”Here,” I said, helping it over her head. ”This is a warm coincidence.”

Laurel giggled a little as I invariably made the getting on of the sweats.h.i.+rt more complicated than it needed to be. Her eyes were s.h.i.+ning with laughter when she finally popped her head out of the neck hole, hair alight and floating in a million different directions.

”You're the scariest thing in these woods right now,” I said, smoothing her hair down with my hands.

She batted them away and made a grumpy noise. ”Doesn't speak very highly of your woods, then, does it?”

”Is that a hidden insult about my d.i.c.k?”

She came toward me with a wicked grin and ran a finger up and down my chest. ”Now, what could there possibly be to insult about that?”

”Nothing, I just like to hear it from someone else every now and then,” I laughed.

Laurel rolled her eyes and gave me a soft punch in the stomach. She turned and followed the clear-cut path through the greenery that led down a slight hill toward the riverbed. I grabbed the firewood and followed her down after making sure the truck was locked tight.

This beach was my favorite because of one specific feature: the driftwood. Lots of it inevitably got picked up by local artists or a.s.shole tourists, but the piece that somehow wound up in this tiny little gully was enormous, easily thirty feet long, rolled by the sand and sea into a soft, rounded ghost of its former self. The trunk sat parallel with the river, its most gnarled end planted in a curve in the river like ancient roots. The opposite end, however, was firmly on dry land, and was just as comfortable a bench as any I'd ever found. Laurel was drawn to it without direction. She sat in the twilight, huddled in my sweats.h.i.+rt, watching me set up a little pit for the fire. It only took me ten minutes to get her roaring, and the warmth scattered the gully with dancing light.