A Place with Briar. Amber Leigh Williams
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him by ducking under his arm. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have orders to fill.”
“Why the rush?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her waist and steering her toward a table near the back of the room where lights were dimmer and Olivia didn’t have quite so well a view of what transpired between her patrons. Cole saw Briar’s eyes flash around the room, looking for an escape. He took several steps forward.
Clint’s meaty paws squeezed her shoulders and he leered close as his buddies at the table looked on and sniggered. “Give me some sugar. You know you want to.”
She turned her nose up, digging an elbow into the man’s ribs in another effort to dislodge his attentions. “You’re embarrassing yourself, Clint. Now knock it off so I can get back to work.”
He chuckled louder, reaching around to her backside and grabbing a handful.
Cole lunged forward, pushing through the other bystanders, a haze of rage cloaking his vision as he heard Briar shriek in alarm. Before he could reach them and dispense justice in his own way, she hauled back a flat-palmed hand and struck Clint across the face.
Clint staggered back, not from the force of the blow, but in surprise, gripping his chin and eyeing Briar in a new light. “Well, who knew there was something fiery underneath Minnie Mouse’s blouse? I like that.”
Before Clint could reach out and touch her again, Cole clapped his hands over the giant’s shoulders and jerked him forcibly around to face him.
“Hey, man,” Clint protested. Blinking sluggishly, his eyes found Cole’s face. Judging by the slow perception and the heavy stench of beer emanating from him, it didn’t take a scholar to determine that Clint was well wasted. “What’s it to you?” he asked, thumping Cole in the chest with the heel of his hand.
“Leave the lady alone,” Cole demanded, his voice low. Someone shut off the music and all eyes tuned in to the action. “Or you’ll be answering to me.”
“Cole...” Briar began but Clint’s mocking “ooooo” broke through her speech.
“What’re you gonna do?” Clint asked. “Hit me?”
“If you touch her again, yeah,” Cole pledged, his hard gaze never flickering from Clint’s face. “I will.” His hands were already balled, ready, at his sides.
The man let out an obnoxious laugh, grabbing Briar by the wrist and trying to haul her against him again. “Is this bothering you, pretty boy?”
Briar clawed at the brawny cuff on her arm in a failed attempt to dislodge it. Her fingers were turning white—the nimrod was cutting off her circulation. “Let go of me, Clint! You’re hurting me!”
Panic crossed Briar’s face. Cole had seen that same expression on too many victims’ faces to count. Not Briar. He flexed his fists until the knuckles cracked.
Olivia finally managed to work her way to the center of the crowd. He turned to her in question. “Permission to make a scene?”
“You had to ask?” she said, eyes bright with indignation. “If you don’t, I will.”
“Come on, mousey.” Clint laughed, now using both hands to plaster Briar against him. “You’ll like it. Trust me.”
“Enough,” Cole said, lunging forward. He put a firm hold on Clint’s arm, twisting until the man was forced to let go. He blustered, swinging wildly with one arm. Briar ducked, but despite Cole’s attempts to shield her, Clint’s arm plowed into her, knocking her back into the vacated table and chairs.
Cole saw her go down hard. It was the last straw. Whirling, he raised a balled fist and nailed Clint in the jaw.
The man reeled back against the wall. Spitting blood, he knuckled his mouth. “Son of a bitch clocked me.” He eyed Cole with the light of challenge strong in his eyes. “You wanna brawl?” He stood up, squaring his shoulders and planting his feet as he raised his fists. “Let’s go.”
Cole snapped his ready fist up again and sent Clint reeling once more, this time into the crowd of regulars to his left. They parted and let him fall like a tree with a deafening clatter to the floor.
Cole leaned over him, grabbing hold of the collar of the man’s shirt. Again, he spoke low in a menacing tone. “If I catch you even looking at her again, much less bothering her, I’ll knock your eyes out. Got me?”
Clint coughed. Blood spittled as he spoke. “She’s not worth the trouble.”
Cole hauled him into a sitting position and jerked his head in Briar’s direction. She sat in a chair with a hand on the back of her head, her expression pained as she eyed the pair of them warily.
Cole twisted Clint’s arm behind his back until he shrieked in pain. “Apologize.”
“No flippin’ way.”
Cole twisted the arm harder, making Clint yelp.
“Okay, okay! You’re gonna snap my damn arm off!”
“So apologize and save me the effort,” Cole warned.
“Fine! Sorry, Ms. Browning. I didn’t mean any harm.”
Cole held on to the arm a moment longer then reluctantly let it go. He looked to Olivia. “What do you do with the trash?”
She smirked, helping Briar to her feet as she looked around for two strong regulars. “Freddie, Ty, get rid of this hunk of junk for me, will ya?”
“Gladly, Liv.” They scooped Clint up by each arm and hustled him out the door.
Cole crossed to Olivia and Briar as the crowd started milling again, everyone murmuring in the hushed wake of commotion. “You’ll let me know if he makes trouble again?”
Olivia nodded. “You did good.” She seemed to realize Briar was still leaning heavily against her side. “Come on, cuz. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“She okay?” Cole asked, trailing them into the back room.
Olivia steered her into the office and lowered her to the only chair. “She’ll be all right, as long as she’s not bleeding anywhere.”
Cole could see the bruises on the white skin of her wrist and a large purple welt on her shoulder where she’d smacked the table or chair. “Briar,” he said, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her. “You all right?”
“My head,” she said, reaching back again for it. “I rapped it on something.” She pulled her fingers away. They were wet with blood. Cole’s heart shrank at the sight.
Olivia parted Briar’s hair to get a closer look at the cut. “Cole, put some cold water on one of those hand towels there and hand it here.”
Without hesitation he went to the sink in the corner, listening to Olivia’s ministrations.
“We’ll find you some aspirin, okay?” she said. “It should help the bump.” She turned to Cole with a sneer when he handed her the wet cloth. “That slimeball.”
“Does this happen often?” he asked.
“Not in my bar.”
Briar groaned when Olivia poked gingerly at the bruise on her shoulder. “That hurts,” she muttered. “And I’m a little dizzy.”
Cole couldn’t help himself. He knelt in front of her, took her free hand and squeezed it. “You might have a concussion.”
“I’m not going to the hospital,” she insisted.
One of the men who’d hauled Clint off walked into the office. “Hey, Liv. Sorry to interrupt, but some of your customers are getting antsy out here.”
“Thanks, Ty. I’ll be right out.” Olivia went to the sink to wash the trickle of blood off. “Here’s a clean towel. Can I trust you to get her to bed, Cole?”
“Go