He nodded, then bent down to brush a kiss on her cheek. “Definitely. And I’ve got your number, so if for some reason I don’t make it back, I’ll message you, okay?”
“Okay.”
He felt like a total shit as he darted out of the alcove. Aidan was waiting behind the curtain, his dark eyes lined with worry and a hint of aggravation.
“What the hell happened?” Dylan demanded.
“A bunch of morons decided to trash-talk the bartender your boy’s panting over.”
“Fucking great.”
He followed Aidan toward the back of the club, feeling slightly dizzy as the strobe lights assaulted his vision and the deafening music attempted to destroy his eardrums. For a second, he swayed on his feet, growing disoriented and a tad nauseous. Shit, he was drunker than he’d thought. And it was incredibly difficult to match Aidan’s breakneck pace when he still had an erection of monstrous proportions.
Fortunately, all signs of arousal drained from his dick the second he and Aidan burst onto the smoking patio.
Unfortunately, the scene they came upon was utter chaos.
Dylan had barely registered it when he became the recipient of an elbow to the groin that made him see stars.
“Son of a bitch,” he croaked, doubling over.
A blur of fists and elbows and legs flashed in front of his eyes, heavy male grunts echoing in the night air. He quickly recovered from the accidental nut shot and dove in Seth’s direction, though it was clear his roommate didn’t need much assistance. Even surrounded by three guys and a bouncer determined to stop the scuffle, Seth was completely holding his own, unleashing left hooks and uppercuts that landed with resounding thwacks on their intended targets.
Blood poured out of Seth’s nostrils, but he seemed unfazed. The three men he’d decided to take on were bleeding in various places too—mouths, noses, chins. One even had blood dripping from his temple.
“Enough,” Dylan snapped as he launched himself into the fold. He nearly caught a blow to the side of the head, but managed to block it at the last second.
“I’m calling the f**king cops!” the bouncer was shouting. The big man succeeded in getting one of the beefheads in a headlock and began dragging his prey away like a lion collecting his carcass.
From the corner of his eye, Dylan saw Aidan grab hold of the other muscleman, leaving Seth to deal with the remaining one. Seth got in a few more punches that sent his victim’s head snapping back before two more bouncers flew onto the patio and put an end to the commotion.
Next thing Dylan knew, he was being thrown over the low railing separating the patio from the alley behind it. A thud, then another, as Seth and Aidan landed on the pavement beside him.
“Get the f**k up!” One of the bouncers, an enormous African-American with a skull tattoo on his neck, loomed over them, his massive arms crossed over his massive chest.
Dylan staggered to his feet. The adrenaline coursing through his blood, combined with all the alcohol he’d consumed, made him light-headed and more than a little queasy. His stomach churned, prompting him to take a deep breath before he lost his dinner all over the bouncer’s feet.
His ears proceeded to ring during the entire altercation that followed, but he understood the gist of what went down. He, Seth and Aidan were being thrown out. So were the muscleheads Seth had decided to pound on. The club manager came out at one point, spewing threats about pressing charges and whatnot, but eventually she lost steam and told them to “get the f**k out of her sight”.
The bouncers escorted the six men to the curb. Everyone was oddly silent and subdued, and a few minutes later, the three beefheads stumbled into a cab, aiming three death looks in Seth’s direction before they disappeared.
Dylan noted that not a single one of those dudes had come after Seth during the wait for the taxi, nor had they offered any parting words along the lines of “this isn’t over”. And he doubted that had anything to do with the angry bouncers standing four feet away. No, judging by the sad, bloodied state those losers had left in, Seth had clearly made an impact.
Dylan’s gaze drifted to the two bouncers at the door, who returned his stare with matching menacing scowls. Yeah, there was no way he was getting back in that club tonight. So much for dancing the night away with Rachel.
Hell. He wasn’t even in the mood for sex anymore. He’d jarred his shoulder while trying to break up that fight, and now it was throbbing again. Damn it. He’d consumed a shit-ton of beer and whiskey shots tonight, specifically to reach the point where the pain faded into that numb sort of nothingness, and now all his hard work was down the drain.
Tightening his lips, he glared at Seth, whose gray eyes displayed sheer boredom. Boredom, for f**k’s sake. The guy had just rearranged the faces of not one, not two, but three dudes, his nose was a bloody mess, and he was standing there like it was no biggie.
“You couldn’t let it go, huh?” Dylan cracked.
His roommate shrugged. “Not really.”
Aidan, who hadn’t said a word since they’d been tossed out of the club, looked from one SEAL to the other, then chuckled. “Didn’t I hear something about you guys getting locked up for brawling a while back?”
“You heard right,” Dylan mumbled. “And that last brawl wasn’t my fault either. Apparently I hang out with cavemen who can’t control their tempers.”
Rolling his eyes, Seth reached into his pocket for his wallet and dug out a twenty-dollar bill. “I’ll spring for a cab for you,” he said, handing Dylan the cash. “I’m gonna hang around here until Miranda gets off.”