Something one of her groupies said had her to looking up and Ryne could see the sadness in her eyes. Oh, she was trying to hide it, laughing politely at the man’s comment, but it was there and he was the cause. And now, he was going to add to her misery. With great reluctance, he pushed off from the bar.
Walking over to where she sat, he shouldered his way in beside her, ignoring the protests of the men gathered there.
“Melody—”
“Hey man. You can’t just barge in here. Me and the boys were talking to her.” A rough voice spoke to him and someone pulled at his arm.
Ryne didn’t even turn around, merely shrugging the hand off. He tried again. “Melody—”
Not even looking his way, Melody responded. “Just go away, Ryne. I have nothing to say to you.”
He leaned his elbow on the bar, bending a bit in an attempt to see her face more clearly. “Well, I need to talk to you.”
“Too bad.” Melody looked up at him this time, and he saw the anger and hurt in her eyes. He reached towards her instinctively, but she leaned away avoiding him. Her obvious rejection of him cut deeply, even if it was what he deserved.
“See? She doesn’t want to talk to you. Now get away from her.” A burly man sidled up, placing his arm around Melody’s shoulders, and glaring at Ryne. A look of discomfort passed over her face and she shrugged out of the man’s grasp.
“I don’t think she’s too keen on you either.” Ryne pointedly stared at the man’s arm that now lay limp at his side.
“Will both of you just leave me alone!” Melody’s cheeks were flushed and there was a tinge of desperation in her voice.
Armand must have noticed it too, for Ryne saw him begin to move down behind the bar towards where a small crowd had started to gather. The possibility of a fight always spread like wildfire through the establishment. Tonight was proving no different.
Seeking to avoid a confrontation, Ryne merely curled his lip at the man, biting back a growl, before shifting his focus back towards Melody. He’d just quickly say his piece to her and then leave before things got out of hand.
Unfortunately, the man wasn’t following the same script. “Don’t turn your back on me. I’m not through with you yet!”
Irritated Ryne faced the fellow. The events of the night had shortened his temper considerably. How dare this person interfere? “Listen, buddy… ”
He barely had the words out of his mouth, when the man swung his meaty fist. Only years of practice enabled Ryne to instinctively shift enough so the punch hit his shoulder and not his face. Unfortunately, he didn’t even have time to brace himself and as a result spun around from the force of the blow. The momentum propelled him towards Melody. Some instinct must have warned her of impending danger for she raised her arms defensively in front of her face. As his body impacted with hers, they both fell to the ground, the bar stool collapsing under the sudden force. Ryne landed on top of her, her elbow shoved up into his face. A sickening scrunching sound filled his ears accompanied by a wave of pain as his nose broke. Blood gushed, running into his mouth and down his throat. Melody gave a cry. Shouts erupted around them. Chairs scraped across the floor and soon several people were reaching down, grabbing at the two of them.
Giving his head a shake, Ryne pushed the helping hands away and surged to his feet. His mouth tasted of copper and he spat the bloody liquid onto the floor. Using his arm, he wiped the blood from his face, then searched the crowd for his attacker. He’d only seen the man for a few moments, but it was enough; the image and scent were imbedded in his mind. In moments, Ryne located his target.
A rage such as he hadn’t experienced in years came over him. With a roar, he swung at his attacker, sending the fellow spiralling across the room. Without even thinking of his audience, Ryne rushed after the man. Who did this person think he was, to not only strike an Alpha, but touch his female as well? The punishment must be swift and heavy. His wolf growled menacingly. I will be satisfied with nothing less.
Yet even as he grabbed the man’s throat, he was attacked from behind. Turning to face his latest adversary, he met a set of glowing eyes. Strong hands held his shoulders while another, equally powerful pair grabbed at his arms, trying to drag him away. His rage grew, his muscles bunched. Who were these that sought to keep him from his rightful revenge?
He snarled a warning and prepared to strike, then a noise caught his attention. A cry… his female! A glance in the direction reassured him that she was being helped up, not hurt. There was blood on her arm; her face was pale…
“Ryne! Come on, man. Snap out of it.”
An urgent voice penetrated the wildness that consumed his brain and he jerked his eyes towards the speaker… Bryan?
“That’s it. Look at me. Get control of yourself.”
Ryne blinked and shook his head. He felt the rage subsiding. A quick glance showed him that the man who had attacked him was unconscious. Across the room, Lucy appeared from somewhere and was guiding Melody to safety, cradling her arm in a towel while expertly weaving a path through the various brawls that seemed to have erupted around the room.
“We need to go. If anyone sees you up close right now, your eyes will give you away. And if they don’t, your teeth will. Your fangs are showing.” Bryan began tugging at Ryne’s arm. “I’ll stay here and take care of things. Daniel, take our wildman home before he does any more damage.”
Daniel answered in the affirmative and Ryne suddenly found himself outside the bar, heading towards the pickup. He dug in his heels and stood still.
“No. I need to go back and make sure Melody is all right.”
Daniel, in his usual calm manner, gently tugged at Ryne’s arm. “She’s fine, Ryne. Lucy is taking care of her. You can talk to her in the morning. It’s more important that we get you home.”
Shrugging off the boy’s hand, Ryne rubbed his hands through his hair in frustration, not wanting to listen to the logic of Daniel’s argument, but knowing he must. Daniel was right. He’d been in fights before, but he’d never lost control like that in public. The sooner he was out of sight, the sooner people would begin to forget. Bryan would stay behind fulfilling his Beta role by helping Armand break up the brawl. Knowing Bryan, he’d probably use a liberal application of free liquor and some carefully worded suggestions, to lead the bar patrons into doubting what they had seen. With any luck, by morning the story would just be that of a usual fight over a woman. No one would recall the ultra human speed at which he’d crossed the room, nor the distance he’d thrown the man. And his broken nose… well, it would heal by morning and everyone would assume it had just been a bleed.
Finally nodding agreement, he followed his pack mate to the truck and headed home.
Chapter 26
Melody winced as she dressed the next morning, her injured arm stiffly responding to her commands. Her back wasn’t happy either, telling her in no uncertain terms that it didn’t appreciate how she’d landed on the floor last night with a large man on top of her. Neither was her rear end overly pleased with its part in acting as the initial point of impact. She had a headache from too much beer, her eyes were gritty and her mouth tasted like… well, she didn’t even want to think about that.
A hot shower, several cups of coffee, and the liberal use of both mouthwash and toothpaste helped alleviate some of her woes, but the gash on her arm wasn’t being as cooperative as the rest of her anatomy. Her arm throbbed from the cut she’d received the previous night. When Ryne had crashed into her, they’d both fallen to the floor and the bar stool she’d been sitting on had shattered. Somehow, a sharp piece of wood must have cut her arm, though she didn’t recall exactly how it had happened. At first, she’d thought the blood had all been Ryne’s. Her elbow had ended up in his face and she was sure she’d broken his nose, given the amount of blood that had been present.
Initially, she’d been stunned, lying on the floor, not sure what was going on around her. Dimly, she’d been aware of a roaring noise and a rush of move
ment… When she’d managed to sit up and look around, Ryne had already been across the room seeming intent on giving payback for the punch he’d received. Meanwhile fights were breaking out all over the room. Having never been in the middle of a brawl, it had held a sort of macabre fascination. Fists were flying; furniture was being knocked over and thrown about. Grunts and shouts; blood and saliva, spilt drinks… The sights and sounds had been overwhelming and she’d done her best to scuttle backwards towards the relative safety of the bar. Searching the sea of angry faces, she’d spotted Bryan and Daniel. They were making their way over to Ryne, probably planning on restraining him. Unfortunately, she lost sight of them when Armand had stepped in front of her.
The bar tender must have watched the whole incident start and was aware that she was on the floor somewhere. He’d pushed the crowd away from her, effortlessly lifting her to sit safely on top of the bar before wading into the various skirmishes, yanking the participants apart by the scruffs of their necks. Mel was so engrossed with what was going on around her that it had taken a few minutes before she noticed the nerve endings in her arm had started to protest. Glancing down, she saw her arm was covered in fresh blood—much of it hers, not just Ryne’s. The cut had begun to throb and burn painfully. Tears pricked her eyes and were sliding down her face by the time Lucy, who’d just arrived for her shift, rushed over to check on her.
Grabbing a towel from behind the bar, Lucy had helped stem the bleeding and then led her to a relatively quiet area near the back. Once there, she’d cleaned the cut before applying bandages and then offering a ride home. Mel declined, not feeling up to answering the slew of questions that were probably percolating in the waitress’s mind.
As she’d made her way towards the door she’d paused once to scan the crowd. Most of the fights had wound down and many of the former participants were helping to tidy up, merely avoiding the few who were still pushing and shoving each other. Surprisingly, there had been laughter coming from various locations, as if it had all been in good fun. Even Armand had chuckled once or twice, though his expression soured when he spotted the cracked frame on one of his paintings.
She’d watched as Bryan approached Armand and placed what appeared to be a consoling arm on his shoulders, while talking quietly. Armand nodded and took the painting down, tenderly cradling it in his arms. As he headed towards the bar, he’d called out a crowd-pleasing statement. “A free drink for everyone. Bryan is buying!”
The patrons had cheered and gathered around the young man, thumping him on the back. Bryan smiled in return, giving high fives and looking thoroughly at home being in the thick of things. Mel searched the crowd again for signs of Ryne or Daniel, but neither appeared to be there. A faint wave of concern swept over her, but she ignored it. They must be all right or Bryan wouldn’t be buying drinks. Besides, she was disgusted with Ryne and he didn’t deserve her interest.
Over the heads of those gathered, Bryan suddenly looked up and made eye contact with Mel. Even from a distance, she could sense his concern for her, so she’d nodded and given him a half smile as a means of reassurance. Slowly he’d nodded back and she was sure he was trying to convey that the other two men were fine. Someone jostled him and he’d turned away, switching his attention to those crowded around him.
Mel chose to leave then. She wondered why Bryan was buying everyone a drink, but decided it was all part of some strange male bonding ritual and really none of her business.
*****
When she’d finished reminiscing about the previous night’s escapade, Mel rinsed out her coffee cup before gathering her supplies for the day. She checked that she had her list of questions for Ryne then shouldered her purse and headed towards the car with a determined stride. Thankfully she’d left her laptop at the Gazette over night; it made for one less thing to carry when she only had one fully functioning arm.
As she drove into town, she gave herself a mental pep talk. Today was the day. No more delays. No more distractions. Ryne Taylor was going to answer her questions whether he liked it or not. She was sick and tired of his little games. It didn’t matter how charming and sexy he was, there was no way she was putting up with his avoidance tactics any longer. Obviously, he was only interested in her for sex; last night had proved that. Oh, he’d warned her. Lucy had warned her. She’d even warned herself. She’d have to give the devil his due, he excelled in the love making department, but he was definitely not interested in anything deeper. But some crazy little corner of her mind had hung on to the hope that Ryne really did have feelings for her. Well, she thought, that certainly wasn’t the case.
So she’d do her interview, pack her bags, and head back to Chicago. Aldrich might not be pleased that it wasn’t as in-depth an interview as his employer wanted, but if Ryne was going to be difficult, there was no way she could force him to talk. If Greyson was unhappy, she’d give him some of the money back. It had been a healthy sum and even if she returned a couple of thousand, there would still be sufficient left over for her needs.
She parked in front of the Gazette and gathered her purse and notepad. First she’d check her e-mails, and then see what flights were available. At noon, she would call Aldrich to tell him she’d be back in a few days. The man would press for a specific date and time, but she wasn’t feeling inclined to tell him since he’d probably demand she visit his office the minute she stepped off the plane. Well, too bad for him because it wasn’t going to happen.
Mel grinned, pleased with the no-nonsense attitude she was developing. It would serve her well, when she hunted down Ryne. No more Ms. Nice Guy. Uh-uh.
Beth looked up from her computer when Mel entered. She stood up and began talking like a circus ringmaster. “And here she is; the star of last night’s brawl and the Queen of the Pool Table… Mel Greene!”
Mel winced, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood her cheeks. “So I guess that means you heard about what happened at the Broken Antler?”
Beth walked over to the counter and propped her chin in her hand. “Nope. Don’t know a darn thing about it.” Then she winked.
Rolling her eyes, Mel plopped down in one of the chairs near the front of the office, absentmindedly wiping a bit of dust from the leaves of the neglected philodendron that was on the table beside her. “I suppose the rumour mill has been working overtime since last night. Tell me the worst, Beth. What are they saying about me?”
“Only that you were roaring drunk, turned into some form of hot, sexy pool shark and won a wad of cash by beating some of the best pool players that Stump River has to offer.”
“What?” She sat up straighter, abandoning the plant and focusing her attention on Beth. “I was not roaring drunk. Maybe a bit tipsy, but I still had complete control over my faculties. And I’m not a pool shark, it was just luck. And the ‘wad of cash’ was loose change, for heaven’s sake!”
“Darn, I was afraid of that.” Beth affected a pout, but then brightened. “You didn’t deny the hot and sexy part, though!”
A vague memory of wiggling her tush before taking a shot during the impromptu pool tournament flashed through Mel’s mind. Damn, but she’d forgotten that part. And there was something about being too warm and loosening the tie on the front of her shirt… She clapped a hand to her cleavage wondering how much she’d been showing off. Feeling a wave of heat rising to her face, she fought for composure while secretly dying inside. Of course, then there was what happened with Ryne afterward! It certainly eclipsed a little hip wiggling and cleavage display.
“Er… I might have been a little less inhibited last night, but I did nothing inappropriate in public.” That was, strictly speaking, the truth. No one needed to know about Armand’s office. Being ‘screwed and then scorned’ by Ryne was her own personal humiliation and heartache.
“So I suppose the story about Ryne and Billy Watson fighting over you, and wrecking one of Armand’s paintings is false, too.”
Mel nodded emphatically. “I don’t know if the fellow was named B
illy or not, but he and Ryne weren’t fighting over me, I’m sure. They probably have some sort of history or it was one of those guy things. Ryne doesn’t care enough to fight over me and I’d never met the other man before. As for Armand’s picture, that might be the grain of truth in the whole story. He was looking at a broken picture frame when I left.”
“But what about your arm?” Beth gestured towards the large bandage on Mel’s forearm. “Something must have happened for you to end up with an injury.”
“I think I cut it on the bar stool. Some of the wood probably splintered when it broke.” She rubbed the area around the wound. “It still stings, but it’s not serious. It should be healed in a few days.”
The other woman sighed in obvious disappointment. “Well, I guess that means I have to delete most of what I wrote this morning. It’s too bad. You could have been front page news.”
Narrowing her eyes, Mel studied the other woman, wondering if she was joking or not. Given that this was Stump River, where nothing ever happened, there was a strong possibility she wasn’t. Just to be sure, Mel clarified the matter. “Well, I’m sure something else exciting will happen before next week’s edition.”
Beth shrugged and then straightened from where she’d been leaning on the counter. “You never know… ” Wandering over to the coffee maker, she filled two mugs with the freshly brewed beverage and handed one to Mel, who had moved to join her at the back of the office. “So, what are your plans for today? The usual web surfing, walk about town and then coffee at Ruth’s?”
Mel accepted the mug before sitting down at her work station and powering up her computer. “Not exactly. I’ve made up my mind that Ryne’s giving me a full interview today whether he likes it or not. He’s been stringing me along ever since I arrived here and now I’m putting my foot down. No more delays.”
The Keeping Page 27