Page 99 of Not Mine to Rescue

I moved to the bar and noted the special license and alcohol assessment training certificates posted on the backboard.

Was it terrible that I noticed two were out of date?

A hand landed on the small of my back and drifted downward to grope my ass. My assaulter tugged me sideways before I could even catch the bartender’s eye. “Well, hell. I knew the Destroyers employed pretty girls, but you are a fucking knockout. How much do high-class hookers like you go for?”

Almost as abruptly as it happened, he was ripped away. Wombat had his shirt in his fist and the other hand in his hair—what little there was. “Hands off.”

The drunk held his arms out. “I was just asking.”

“She’s mine.”

“There ain’t no property vest, how was I supposed to know?”

I chimed in because I didn’t want him to skew what happened with a bullshit excuse, “You put hands on me without my permission, that’s assault. And considering how many lawyers I know, you won’t get a fair trial in this county.”

“You’re going to press charges? Here?” The man laughed.

Wombat glanced at me. “Honor?”

There was a warning in his question. “I want him to never do that again to anyone. However, I also want a billion dollars. I can be realistic and get both in a legal fashion, correct?”

Wombat grinned. “Did you hear that, Grease? That’s the new rule for you. Touch any woman without their permission, and I’ll personally insure that you’ll go down. What will that be, third strike?”

His hands fell helplessly to his sides. “I apologize. You know how it is, get a little in ya and it-it makes you do stupid shit.”

A Destroyer shoved through the crowd beginning to form. “Everything cool, ’Bat?”

I’d met this member as well. He’d accompanied Walt to the meeting. His name was Nickel, and he was the club treasurer.

I spoke up, “It’s settled.”

“No it ain’t.” Wombat’s contradiction overruled my statement. I tried to get his attention so this wouldn’t escalate.

“Random.”

Nickel’s gaze shot to me. “Honoria Ryder, Esquire. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Esquire?” The drunk asked.

“Yeah, as in lawyer. Our lawyer.” Wombat said. Then tacked on, “And she’s mine, and yes, in that way. Touch her again and you won’t see daylight.”

I hoped that was a threat of legal retribution and ignored any darker speculation.

“Now apologize to the club’s lawyer.” Nickel left out the other part. I didn’t know if I was grateful or not.

“Random?” I put my hand on his back to let him know he should put the man down.

Nickel quickly pushed my hand free, then raised a finger in warning. It was strategically placed between Wombat and me where it wouldn’t be seen. “Bat. Put him down.”

As he did, he brushed his hands off on his pants before wrapping an arm around me. As he maneuvered me, he deliberately pulled my hand up to his vest and held it against his heart. “My woman. Now apologize.”

“I’m really sorry, ma’am.”

“Apology accepted,” I said to defuse the situation. Part of me didn’t want to do that, but strangely, I knew that if I didn’t, that man would pay a far greater price than a few months in jail.

“Get lost,” Wombat said.

“Wait,” Nickel stopped him. “Don’t come back here, and don’t approach us again. You fucked up.”