Page 170 of 5+Us Makes Seven
“Whoa. Hold on there.” Olivia held her hand up. “Don't be annoyed at us because we like having fun. It’s not our fault you’re a stuck-up bitch!”
I stared at them, stunned. They had certainly had shown their true colors, and I hated what I saw. I felt like I’d been wrong about them actually being decent-hearted people.
I sighed, almost feeling sorry for them as I left the bathroom. I was going to tell Jordan in no uncertain terms where he could shove it, and then I was leaving.
Cruz
My hand froze, my whiskey glass halfway to my mouth. A few minutes ago, I’d seen the leader of the douches scoot in next to Alexandra, leering at her. Seeing how disgusted she looked, I had tried to shrug off my jealousy, only to find my heart beating faster and my hands clenching.
I tried to calm down, fearing I would crack the whiskey glass. I took a measured gulp, my hands shaking. And then I drained the whole glass.
“Would you like another, sir?” the barman said, appearing at my side. I looked at him, my eyes burning with poorly controlled anger, a visage of rage combined years of suppressed emotion rising to the surface.
He stepped back with fear in his eyes, fleeing straight for the other end of the bar.
I looked back at the group, my tunnel vision setting in. I froze for a while, waiting for an excuse to approach the men.
A long minute later, the other girls rose, with Alexandra rushing off to the bathroom looking pissed. Lucy and Olivia hurried after her, looking equally annoyed, but I could tell their frustration was at Alexandra, not the guys.
I looked back at the guys. The leader had a bottle of champagne in his hands, laughing. He then began rummaging around in his right pocket for something. Looking around, the others leaned over in a poor attempt to obscure what he was doing. But I still saw him.
/> He’d put something into Alexandra’s glass before filling it up with champagne that fizzed a little too vigorously.
I was on my feet in an instant, striding across the restaurant toward their table, reaching it in mere seconds. My cold stare was fixed solely on the leader with his stupid V-neck t-shirt.
He looked up at me and grinned. “We’re okay. Thanks, waiter. Just got some champagne, see?” He gave a patronizing smile and waved the half-full bottle at me. “You can go away now.”
I leaned over the table, smashing the bottle out of his grip with one strong backhanded slap of my left hand. The bottle flew at his friend, breaking on his chest. Sharp glass shattered everywhere, and the guys shouted.
I swung on my hips, sending a vicious right backhanded punch that connected with the side of his face without even taking my eyes from the ringleader who’d spiked Alexandra’s drink.
The guy I’d hit flew backwards through the air, landing at Alexandra’s feet. She stood there, shocked. But I couldn’t concern myself with that right now.
“As for you, you piece of fucking shit!” I said, leaning across the table to the ringleader. “You’re dead!”
I grabbed him by the neck, my muscles bulging as I dragged him across the table.
I punched him savagely in the gut, knocking all the air out of him.
Alexandra was next to me all of a sudden, her hand on my arm.
“Cruz,” she said, softly. I looked down at her as she held onto my arm, which I’d drawn back for another brutal punch. But as soon as I saw her face, my rage lifted.
Realizing I was still holding the guy by his neck, I dropped him to the floor, where he began coughing and sputtering, gasping for breath.
Olivia and Lucy had just then arrived on the premises. “What the fuck are you doing?” Olivia screamed. When she turned her gaze from the guy on the floor, to me, her eyes widened. “Oh…my…God. Did you kill him?
The two bouncers approached, although they stopped a distance away, neither wanting to come near me.
“These pieces of shit,” I said, my voice calmer, “needed to be taught a lesson.” I pointed to the guy on the floor in front of me. “Look in his right pocket.”
His friend behind me suddenly become brave, now that the bouncers were here. “You can’t search him, mate! You ain’t the police!”
I turned to face him, poking a hard finger in his chest. “Sit. The. Fuck. Down.” I said, accentuating each word with a hard poke to the chest. His face drained of color and he flinched away from my touch.
I turned back toward the bouncers. “Please,” I said, gesturing to the V-neck wearing punk again. “I swear, it was him. Trust me.”
The big bouncer hesitated for a moment, but then bent down and began rummaging around in the guy’s pocket, struggling with his massive hands. He froze, frowning. Then he removed a small bag of white powder.