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"You aren't trash either, Kylie."
"I know that, too."
"You're stunning."
"What she said didn't upset me. It just caught me off guard. I thought I left the high school pettiness in high school. Apparently not." I shrug, rolling my eyes. "I guess some girls never grow out of it."
"I intend to worship every inch of your gorgeous body while I fuck you every way known to man."
I gape at him, caught off guard by the admission. He says it so casually, so freely. As if it's a foregone conclusion.
"Memphis, that's not—"
"Stay right here," he orders, gently shuffling me away from the door. "Don't even think about trying to leave."
Without another word, he yanks the door open and disappears through it.
"Shelby!" he roars, his voice cracking through the bar like a whip. "Get your ass over here now!"
I press my hands to my face, inhaling an unsteady breath. My night is not going how I thought it was going to go. All I wanted to do was read my book and observe from a distance. Instead, I'm getting far closer to Memphis far sooner than I intended.
I don't have nearly enough information on him. And every little piece I get only seems to distort the puzzle, confusing the image. I expected to find my dead brother's best friend—the one who left a pile of bodies in his wake. But this Memphis Hughes is…different than I expected. He's more like the playful, intelligent man I've seen in interviews than the dangerous criminal people back home still whisper about.
That man hurt people. This one protects them.
Why?
It's one more question I don't know how to answer, one more piece of a puzzle that makes less sense the longer I stare at it. If he really got my brother killed the way everyone says…why is he so hellbent on protecting me? Jayson was his best friend. I'm nothing to him.
"You're an ungrateful prick!" Shelby's shrill voice carries down the hallway, capturing my attention. "I was just looking out for you!"
I peek out the door just in time to see Memphis step into the entryway at the end of the hall, his arms crossed, and his feet planted. I huff an annoyed breath because I can't see anything over his massive body. Why is he so freaking big?
I quickly slip back into the office, scurrying to the bank of security monitors. It only takes a moment to find the one showing the scene unfolding a few steps outside. I have no idea how to work the controls, but I don't think I need them. Shelby is shouting loud enough for the whole dang bar to hear.
"I have stuff back there!" she shouts almost on cue, trying to push her way past him on the computer monitor. She might as well be trying to move a mountain.
"Too fuckin' bad," he growls, a hard edge to his voice. It's harder to hear him, but I'm close enough that I can make out most of it. He reaches over his shoulder, yanking his shirt off over his head before tossing it to her. I gulp, staring at his hard body. Tattoos crawl across his golden skin as if they're a living, breathing piece of him. And those muscles? Good lord. He was carved from stone, every inch of him hard and defined. "You're fired. Get the fuck out of my bar and don't come back."
She catches the shirt, clutching it to her chest. "Memphis, you can't fire me! I was just trying to help you."
"No, you were trying to help you," he says, iron in his voice as it fades in and out. "I've told you…thousand times…back the fuck off…you and I…never happen…don't listen…you treat my girl like shit…my bar…get the fuck out."
His girl?
I nearly swallow my tongue at how easy the words roll off his. He's lost his mind.
"Your girl?" Shelby practically screeches. "Your girl?"
"Venom, get her out of my fuckin' bar. Now."
Venom doesn't seem thrilled as he wraps one giant hand around Shelby's upper arm and gently marches her away. She yells and curses Memphis the whole time, but he doesn't even flinch. He doesn't even look at her. He has his head tipped back, staring up at the ceiling as if searching for patience. Or Jesus. He could be looking for Jesus.
Shelby seems to realize that Venom is going to walk her through that door whether she's dressed or not. She hastily shoves her arms through the shirt Memphis gave her, glaring balefully at him. And then she stomps out.
I sink down into the chair in front of the security console, my stomach in knots as a wave of guilt washes over me. He defended me without even knowing me. I'm lying to him, and he literally just fired a girl for calling me names and making me uncomfortable in his bar.
Who the hell is the real Memphis?
