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“Why, to back up my brothers, of course.” He grinned.
“I thought you couldn’t let anything happen to your pretty face.”
“Aww, you think I’m pretty? I’m flattered, but I have a wife. I share her with my brother, but I don’t think she’s looking for a sister-wife.”
“That’s not . . . you called yourself pretty!”
“Stop flattering me,” he yelled back. “I’ve got to go fight.”
He was insane. She watched as he let out a whoop, then forced his way into the fight with a grin.
“Don’t worry, the Malones can take care of themselves,” Cherie told her, taking hold of her wrist to tug her down.
She winced, hissing in pain.
“Shit! I’m sorry. Oh God, look at your wrist!” Cherie said in horror.
“It’s fine.” She glanced down at her wrist which was already swollen.
But Lilac had experience with ignoring pain. What she couldn’t do was ignore the fight happening around her.
This was all her fault.
She should have just gotten the damn drinks. If she hadn’t frozen like that . . .
Fuck.
She was going to get fired, and then how would she pay the bill for Sugar? How would she buy medicine for Ryleigh? And the stuff that Kye needed? Or food?
And what about Tanner? He’d come to her rescue when he hated her. What if he got hurt because of her? She’d never forgive herself.
Getting to her feet, she attempted to stumble to the end of the bar. But Jeremy got in her way as Cherie reached for her.
“What are you doing, Lilac?” Cherie demanded.
“I have to make sure Tanner is all right. He could get hurt, and it will be my fault.”
“It’s not your fault, girl. Tanner will be fine. Been in more bar fights than you’ve had birthdays. Don’t you worry about him,” Jeremy told her.
Sounds of sirens filled the air.
“Oh, thank God,” Cherie muttered as she tugged her back.
Soon, several deputies entered Dirty Delights. People started to clear out and Devon slid behind the bar, his eyes moving over the three of them worriedly.
“Fuck. You’re all okay?”
Cherie and Lemon both nodded, standing with her. They all took in the destruction of the bar. She put her hand over her mouth in horror.
“Oh God, Devon. I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing for you to be sorry about, honey,” Devon replied, sounding tired. “Are you all right? Someone said that you were in the middle of it all.”
“There is something for me to be sorry for,” she replied, taking in everything. “This is all my fault.”
“Doubt that, honey.”
“It is. That table of guys . . . one of them called me over, wanting me to get drinks for them. I said I’d tell their server, but he got mad and grabbed me.”
