Uppercut Princess (The Heights Crew #1)(50)

Johnny stands. The waiter apologizes profusely for spilling the water, but Johnny doesn’t give a shit. His stare bores a hole into my shoulder where the young man touched me. Johnny drops his napkin on the table, anger pulsating from him.

My stomach clenches. “It’s okay,” I say automatically. I recognize the look in Johnny’s gaze.

Of course, he ignores me. “Did you just touch her?”

The waiter slowly turns toward Johnny, only now noticing how angry he is. “Did I?”

“It’s fine,” I say, but it’s hard to cover it up. Johnny notices everything. He saw my reaction.

Johnny shoots me a silencing stare. “Magnum,” he says.

From out of nowhere, Magnum approaches the table. I had no idea he was even in the room with us.

“Please take Kyla away from the table.”

Other guests start staring at our table now. The countdown is on. Johnny is seconds from exploding, and nothing can be done to stop it. If I say something, I’ll just get shot down, so instead, I take Magnum’s offered hand.

As he drags me away, I look back. Johnny has his hands around the waiter’s neck, pulling him closer, so he can spit words into his face. People look on in horror, but they also don’t interfere. I don’t know where exactly we are, but Johnny’s reputation is alive and well here. Or maybe it’s just the Heights Crew’s in general.

When we get outside, I mutter, “He didn’t mean to.”

Magnum laughs. “Are you kidding me? The guy’s been eyeing you all night.”

“What?” I glance at Magnum. “No way.”

“It was only a matter of time before something happened.”

“That’s ridiculous. How would Johnny even notice? His eyes were trained on his cell phone all fucking dinner.”

“He sees everything,” Magnum says. The way he says it sounds less like an off-hand comment and more like a warning.

“Whatever. This is fucking ridiculous. That poor guy.”

“It’s not the real world here, Kyla,” Magnum warns. “If you’re going to claim territory, you have to protect it. The minute he stops doing that, you know there’s a problem.”

His words silence me. They’re like a riddle I have to figure out, and even though it doesn’t take me long, I still stop and internalize them, realizing the myriad of scenarios this could apply to.

A few seconds later, Johnny comes out with another well-dressed man in tow. He pushes him toward me, and the man stumbles. “Miss, I am so sorry for your intrusion tonight. My employee has been dealt with, and I do hope you’ll deign to dine here again.”

The gentleman’s eyes look so hopeful. I’d love to tell him it wasn’t his employee’s fault that Johnny turns into a caveman, but I don’t know what will happen if I do. Instead, I turn to Johnny to look for instruction like I can’t even think for myself. He gives me a slight nod, so I press my lips together before responding. “If you’ve rectified the situation, perhaps we might come again,” I say, feeling a solid weight drop to the bottom of my stomach.

The owner nods, giving me a shy grin before he apologizes to Johnny and heads back into the restaurant.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asks, slipping his hand around me and pressing his palm into the small of my back.

“Yeah,” I tell him, trying my best not to shy away from his touch.

The truth is, I’m not okay. He ignores me most of the night and then freaks out when a guy accidentally touches me?

He’s deranged.





18





I’m not used to wearing heels. In fact, I think they suck. I like the way they look on me, but they’re just not practical. Especially because if I have to defend myself in them, I’d never be able to. I’d die for sure. With the predicament I find myself in, I never know when I’m going to have to defend myself. So, note for next outing: no fucking heels.

Magnum appraises me, and I wonder if he’s figured me out, if he knows who I actually am. So much so that I avoid his gaze for the rest of the night, even though we’re stuck in the same warehouse room as before, high above the fights happening below.

At least Johnny is distracted through most of the fights. He’s antsy. Jumpy. I don’t want to know what happened in that restaurant after I left. With the wattage coming off him, it doesn’t bode well for the waiter. At least, he doesn’t see me as I watch Brawler from afar while he masters the crowd, getting them hyped up for the fights. Oscar’s here, too. He has his game face on, though. So unlike the one day we watched TV together. He sits in the opposite corner of the room, and I catch him glaring at me every once in a while.

The fights are half over when Johnny finally turns toward me. “You really like this, don’t you?”

I’ve been fiending to fight all night. Muscles straining while I picture what I would do in every position below. The blocks I would make. The shots I would take. I thought I’d be fighting in the fights, not watching them up here. I gaze up at Johnny, wetting my lips as I try to figure out if right now is the time to ask him if I can fight again. “I love it, actually.”

He grins, and this time, it isn’t forced. “I like that about you,” he says, reaching over and running a hand over my hair. “You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty. It makes me think you’re going to be a great addition to the Crew.”