I cover my mouth to conceal my chuckle.

Good comeback there, Archer.

Lincoln appears at his brother’s side. “I got this.” It’s a failed attempt to ease his brother.

“Oh, look,” the jerk mocks. “The assholes are coming to her rescue.”

I throw my arms up.

Dude deserves at least one punch from Archer.

“Georgia,” Archer yells, advancing toward the man, “goddamnit, move.”

My attention flicks to Georgia when she calls out my name and asks me to round up Asshole’s friends.

I nod and scramble toward their table. “Seriously, grab your friend and get out of here before he gets his ass handed to him.” As much as I’d love to witness Archer teaching him a lesson, it can’t happen here.

With a string of curses and glares, they down their drinks and stand. I snort when one mutters, “Chad is done being invited to guys’ night. Dude is a fucking hothead.”

We’re too slow to save the day. Archer circles around Georgia to kick Chad’s ass, and she attempts to block him. It all becomes a blur of movements and shit-talking, and in the end, Georgia falls and smacks her head on the ground.

Chapter Three

Lincoln

It happened faster than when I’d come the night I lost my virginity.

Two pumps, and I had been apologizing to my unsatisfied date.

Two seconds, and Archer attempted to kill the guy who had grabbed Georgia’s ass.

The problem was, he hadn’t planned on her jumping in to stop him.

I stand out of the way as the ambulance wheels an unconscious Georgia out on the stretcher. With flaring nostrils and not a word to anyone, Cohen rushes out of the bar behind them. Archer sprints out seconds later.

The instigator and his friends fled the scene at the mention of cops. When the cops and EMTs arrived, everyone turned silent, so there were no distractions as they took care of Georgia. An uncomfortable silence—something I’d never heard in Twisted Fox—hung in the air as people pleaded for Georgia to just open her eyes.

Terror took residence on my brother’s face, regret flashing alongside it, and I cracked my knuckles. Everything would change after tonight.

How much? I’m not sure yet.

“You okay to keep the bar covered?” Silas asks, chewing on a toothpick while eyeing the bar—customers staring at each other in question, unsure if they should return to screaming at ref calls or go home.

Archer being gone leaves me slinging drinks solo. Not that I mind. Even if he’d tried to stay, I’d have forced him to go be with Georgia. Half the bar cleared out after the cops arrived, so it’s manageable. Even if it wasn’t, I’d lie.

“I got this,” I answer with a nod.

“Appreciate it, man.” He slaps me on the back. “Prepare to be there for your brother.”