My Kind Of Bad

Chapter 2

Kurt stood just inside the door and watched the girl at the bar, slumping sulkily over her drink, which she nursed for nearly an hour. She clearly didn’t want to be here. Her friends were out on the dance floor having a good time but she stayed by the bar, ignoring the people around her or blowing them off.

He had spied her the minute she came into view in the line. Petite compared to her friends, who stood as tall as him at five-eleven. She was slim but with curves in all the right places, dressed in a little black dress that showed off her legs and was dipped just low enough to show off nice cleavage. Her bre*sts were large and Kurt’s fingers had itched to put his hands on them. He liked a woman’s bre*sts.

The other two women, tall in short dresses, were beautiful – Kurt recognized them as models that graced many pages in magazines his boss’ wife and daughter read – but their shorter friend had nothing on them. Her beauty pulled him in and Kurt couldn’t stop himself from staring as he checked their IDs and his colleague swiped the handheld metal detector over them. Her skin was flawless, her eyes were big and clear and she had the loveliest mouth Kurt had ever seen.

His co*k had been at attention the second he had seen her. And it hadn’t abated its stiffness as he stood just inside the door watching her as she stayed on her stool. Kurt knew this was a bad thing. Not only was he not allowed to mix business with pleasure, he didn’t have a good run with women. They didn’t seem to last very long and this woman looked like she wasn’t one for flings.

His brother had told him to keep away from women for now. But now it seemed like his body was ignoring the memo.

Standing on the edge of the throng, Kurt watched as the woman conversed with one of her friends while the other performed s*x with her clothes on in the middle of the dance floor. Then the woman left the bar and went through the dancers towards the exit. Towards him. Kurt swallowed and tried to put on a stoic expression. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She flowed when she moved, her hips swaying and her hair bouncing around her face. It was mesmerizing.

Then Kurt saw a movement to his left and the blond guy who had tried to chat her up earlier stepped in front of her. She ran right into him. Two more guys appeared, clearly with Blondie, and flanked him. As she backed up another two men stepped behind her, blocking her in. She looked at them and Kurt could feel the fear beginning to rise.

He could also feel something in his gut. This wasn’t right. He didn’t like this. Something was going to happen. And he wasn’t going to stand by and let her get assaulted.

Pushing through the crowd, the dancers seemed to part as Kurt approached. They seemed to know that he was there even in their drunken states. As he got nearer to the group, Kurt heard the woman protesting over the music.

“Please let me by. I want to go.”

“Not a chance.” Blondie seemed to be crowding her in between him and his friends. “You owe me.”

“What? I owe you nothing.”

“I think you do.” Blondie grabbed her and pulled her against him, his arm locking her in. “Fancy helping out my buddies as well? They love black chicks like you.”

The look on her face had Kurt’s blood boiling. He quickened his pace and slapped a hand on Blondie’s shoulder.

“Is there a problem?”

Blondie turned and glared at him. She looked up at him, her eyes widening and giving him a pleading look.

“There’s no problem.” Blondie tucked her inside his side, his arm tightening around her waist. “Me and my girl were just leaving.”

“I’m not your girl!”

The woman tried to pull away and managed to step out of his arm but Blondie grabbed her wrist. She tugged but he wouldn’t let go. Kurt didn’t need to ask if she needed help. Reaching out, he neatly tugged her wrist out of Blondie’s grip and pulled her away. She went to him willingly and, to his surprise, wrapped her arms around his waist. Kurt felt his co*k harden even more. Then he could feel her trembling. Fighting back the surge of arousal, he glared at Blondie.

“You need to leave now, sir.”

“No way.” Blondie stuck his chin out. “Do you know who I am?”

“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

“My dad is the state’s attorney. He’ll have your ass.”

Kurt didn’t care. He hated rich white boys. He shrugged.

“Sir, you either leave under your own steam or my buddies will help take you and your friends outside. Your choice.”

They glared at each other. Blondie opened his mouth, raising his hand to Kurt’s face, when there was a sudden burst of gunfire coming from the center of the dance floor. People started screaming and everyone began to run for the exit. Blondie and his friends scarpered, disappearing into the throng.

Kurt reacted. He grabbed the woman and pulled her towards the bar, hustling her around behind the counter and pulling her down just as the glasses exploded above their heads. She screamed and tried to run but Kurt pinned her to the floor, covering her head with his own as the glass rained down on them. Something sliced his ear but Kurt ignored the pain. The blood was pounding in his head.

“What’s happening?” She whimpered.

Kurt could feel her trying to get up again but he held her down as another load of gunfire sounded above the screams.

“Don’t look.” He whispered. “Just stay down.”

*****

The shooting didn’t last long. Moments after the second blast Kurt’s fellow bouncers tried to find the shooter but they ran out the back way and disappeared into the night. All that was left was a sub-machine gun on the floor. And, as of right now, no prints.

Evidently he thought he could get his own back by spraying everyone with bullets. It was a miracle nobody got shot. There were some dancers who got hit by flying glass but there was nobody who was seriously injured. Just a lot of shaken people, those who bothered to hang around to give statements.

The woman Kurt had protected from the gunfire wasn’t hurt; Kurt had stopped most of the glass from cutting her. She had still been shaking when he had helped her to stand after the escapade and brought onto the main dance floor. He could see her sitting with her friends in one of the booths. One of the other women had a bandage on her forehead from flying glass. All of them nursed drinks Demetrius had poured out for them.

Kurt turned away from them before he started having nefarious thoughts when he shouldn’t and focused on the man in the suit pacing around by the bar, his hair standing on end.

“I’m okay, Pete. I didn’t get hit and I wasn’t caught in the crush.”

“Didn’t get hit?” Pete Francis gestured at Kurt’s ear. “Your ear has a bandage on it.”

“That was flying glass, not a stray bullet.” Kurt’s ear was still throbbing but he resisted the urge to scratch it. “I’m okay, really.”

His older brother didn’t look convinced. Kurt knew he was worrying. Had been ever since they were kids. Fifteen years older, Pete always looked out for Kurt, even when he joined the DuJour Motorcycle Club. Kurt didn’t like it that Pete always seemed to be on his case about something like he was a teenager sneaking in after curfew but he bit his tongue. Pete was only doing as his father had asked as a dying wish to look after his baby brother. Their mother had died when Kurt was two of cancer and their father had died of a stroke when he entered elementary school. Pete was a brother and a father to Kurt.