Page 101 of Arsenal

On the second song, the beat changed to something slower. Brie didn’t miss a step—she just rolled her hips a little more,hands over her head, letting her hair fall forward and hide her face. It should have looked ridiculous, but instead it was hypnotic. I watched her, one drink deep and already half out of my mind.

That’s when I saw the problem.

Guy was maybe six-three, built like an oil derrick, bald except for a ring of fuzz above his ears. He wore a Black Rifle Coffee tee stretched tight across his gut and had a tribal tattoo snaking up one arm. The kind of guy who thought “no means try harder.” He hovered near the edge for a few songs, then made his move—sidled up behind Brie, reached for her waist, and tried to pull her back against his crotch.

She stiffened for a second, then turned and gave him a look that should have put him six feet under. But he didn’t back off. Instead, he grinned, said something I couldn’t hear, and doubled down, his hand low on her hip, his mouth close to her ear.

My wolf went red. Not white-hot, not explosive, but surgical—a scalpel to the brainstem.

I sent a text to Arsenal on instinct:Your sister-in-law is at the County Line with Maddie. Better come get her.

He replied in less than a second:FUCK. We’re on our way.

I didn’t wait for backup. I set down my beer and moved across the room, every step deliberate, every muscle coiled for violence. I never used to be the jealous type, but Brie made me want to fight for her, even if it meant getting my ass kicked.

The crowd thickened near the dance floor, so I had to push my way through. Kimmie and Kat were already watching, eyes wide, waiting to see if the new drama would end in blood or a hookup. A few of the college kids noticed me coming and gave me space, but the big man with his hands on Brie didn’t clock me until I was three feet away.

I didn’t make a scene. I just stepped up, put a hand on the guy’s wrist, and squeezed.

He jerked like he’d been grabbed by a pair of vice grips. “What the fuck, man?”

“She’s mine,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Find someone else.”

He sized me up, then noticed the cut—the Iron Valor MC patch, clear as day. His attitude did a 180. He let go of Brie, held up both hands, and backed away with a muttered, “No problem, brother. Didn’t know.”

I slid in behind her, taking the place of “Grabby McHandsy” and started moving with her to the slow groove of the song. Her body fit against mine like a loaded gun in a custom holster. I slid my hand lower, catching the strip of bare skin between her tank and her pants, and that’s when it hit us—both at once. The jolt, the thing no wolf in the world could mistake. My fingers burned on her stomach, and for a split second, her whole body tensed.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes flicking up to mine, the pupils gone black and wide. We just stared, not moving, letting the song fade into background noise. For the first time since I’d met her, Brie didn’t have a comeback.

Then she found it as she started moving again. “Billy the Kid, fancy meeting you here.”

I groaned. “I’m no outlaw, sugar, but that doesn’t mean I’m the good guy.”

She bit her lip, then twisted in my arms so she was facing me, her hands draped around my neck, pulling me closer. I felt every inch of her, the way her chest brushed mine, the heat off her skin. Her perfume was expensive but not too sweet—something floral, but with enough bite that it reminded me of sunburnt grass.

“You always this touchy-feely?” She asked, but her voice was breathy, not accusing.

I ran my thumbs in slow circles over her sides, just above the curve of her hips. “Not usually. You bring out the worst in me.”

She slid her fingers up through the back of my hair, twisting the longer parts, tugging a little just to see if I’d stop her. I didn’t. My wolf liked it; he wanted more.

The rest of the world dropped away. I felt nothing, but her, saw nothing but the blue flicker of her eyes in the dark. I leaned in, close enough to feel her lips brush my cheek, but I didn’t go for the kiss, not yet. I wanted to watch her squirm.

She did.

I glimpsed Arsenal coming through the door then I let my mouth graze the line of her jaw, my stubble scraping her just enough to make her shiver. Then in a voice barely above a growl I told her, “I don’t know if I want to kiss you...or take your pants down and spank your bare ass until it’s red and throbbing.”

She froze, her brow giving an adorable look of confusion.

Then, I leaned toward her ear. “Your ride’s here, sugar.” And I kissed the top of her head and headed for the door.

As I made my way out of the bar, I heard her call after me. “This isn’t finished, cowboy! Finn Walsh! We’re not done here!”

I stopped, turned, and let her see the smile on my face. I tipped my hat as she’d almost made it to me. “You’re goddamn right, little girl. We’re not done here. Not by a long shot.”