Dolfe Honeybun stood in the shadows and watched his ex-girlfriend flirt with a tall, annoyingly good looking guy on line at a popular nightclub. She looked spectacular as usual; her long, slimly curved form lovingly embraced in some kind of shimmery white material which didn’t cover nearly enough of her.

He frowned as the man she was speaking to leaned forward, whispering something into Dolfe Honeybun stood in the shadows and watched his ex-girlfriend flirt with a tall, annoyingly good looking guy on line at a popular nightclub. She looked spectacular as usual; her long, slimly curved form lovingly embraced in some kind of shimmery white material which didn’t cover nearly enough of her.

He frowned as the man she was speaking to leaned forward, whispering something into Blaise’s ear as his hand slipped over her hip and stopped on her firm, round behind. Dolfe’s pressure spiked and he was moving forward before he could stop himself. He crossed the street to the blare of horns, almost entirely oblivious to oncoming traffic. Red flares were flashing in front of his eyes and his hands were clenched into fists. As he plummeted heart first into complete loss of control, Dolfe took some comfort in the fact he hadn’t pulled his gun.

It didn’t matter that Blaise deftly, and with a smile, removed the man’s hand from her butt. It didn’t even matter that she walked away. Because the other guy’s lust-saturated gaze followed her sexy sway down the sidewalk, her heels click-clacking rhythmically on the concrete as she walked.

Dolfe decided at that moment the man had to die.

He headed straight for the cocky, overdressed buffoon who was accepting knuckle bumps from his friends by way of celebrating that he’d copped a feel from the gorgeous black woman with the million dollar smile.

Dolfe would rip him into such small pieces his friend Brita Muldane, the cop, wouldn’t even be able to find the body.

The weasel turned as Dolfe stormed toward him, his unintelligent blue eyes widening at the look on Dolfe’s face. He took a step back as Dolfe reached for him.

Dolfe’s ears roared. He could taste every beat of his heart as his pulse surged to the danger zone. And adrenaline had him by the throat as he grabbed pretty boy’s expensive tweed coat by the lapels and dragged him off the ground.

“Hey!” the guy’s friends coughed out. But when Dolfe turned his murderous gaze on them, they lifted their hands and stepped back. Apparently judging their friend to be unworthy of having their own blood spilled.

Somewhere on the edges of Dolfe’s awareness a familiar click, clack, click, clack intruded, the sound speeding and getting louder as it got closer.

He shook the offensive pup like a rag doll and pressed his face close. The young punk stank of expensive cologne. He was darn lucky he didn’t smell like Blaise.

That would have signed his death warrant for sure.

Click, clack, click, clack…

The guy tried tugging Dolfe’s hands from his coat without any success. “What the hell, man?”

“You think that’s the right way to treat a lady?” Dolfe growled into his face.

The guy blinked under every word, as if he were being pelted with buckshot. “What lady?”

Dolfe’s growl deepened and the guy’s heels lifted another inch from the ground. “Wrong response, punk.”

Click, clack, click, clack…

“Hey come on, dude,” the guy whined. “Blaise is just a friend.”

“You always run your hands all over your friends’ asses?” Chuckling from the guy’s disloyal friends abruptly stopped as Dolfe skimmed them with a hostile, green glance. When they were properly quelled, Dolfe refocused his hostility where it belonged. “You want to feel up my behind?”

More chuckling.

Click, clack, click, clack…

The guy grimaced. “I don’t play for that team, dude.”

Dolfe shook him. “But I thought you always felt up your friends. I’m thinking you and me are friends.”

“Darn it, Dolfe!” A soft, long-fingered hand gripped his arm, tugging on it. “Let him go.”

Dolfe inhaled deeply, her exquisite scent spearing his senses and rolling like warm butter over his nerves. “Stay out of this, honey. The guy dissed you. I’m takin’ care of it.”

She tugged harder. “Dolfe Honeybun, you let go of him right now and come with me.”

He finally turned to look at her and forgot to breathe. He’d almost forgotten how beautiful she was…how delicious she looked and smelled. He frowned, turning back to the punk. “Learn respect you little jerk.” He dragged the guy off the ground another half inch just to drive home his point and then flung him away.

The punky kid stumbled backward several steps, his friends catching him before he landed on his ass.

Dolfe turned away and immediately forgot him. He grinned. “Hey, honey. You look stunning as always.”

Blaise glared at him, her long, slender arms crossed over her chest. Her pretty brown eyes flashed with anger. “Let’s take a little walk, shall we?” She started down the sidewalk, her four inch high spiked heels click-clacking angrily against the concrete.

Dolfe winked at the disgruntled punk and started after her, his gaze sliding over the crowd of males to ensure nobody else got any ideas about disrespecting his girl.

He blinked, his stomach twisting with disappointment. Scratch that. Blaise was now his ex-girlfriend. They’d broken up the week before. Primarily because of the very thing he’d just interrupted.