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Pulling myself off the doorframe, I walked over to the window, peering out from behind her. My eyes automatically scanned the parking lot for any sign of danger. It was a force of habit borne from my upbringing and years in the family business.
“You should get some rest,” I said. “Let me go get some ice, some drinks…”
“I’ll come with you.”
“Are you sure? You looked a bit tired earlier,” I said gently, my hand on her shoulder. Adriana shrugged it off and flashed me a tired smile.
“I don’t want to be cooped up in here, Tristan. I need some air,” she replied, her voice firm but the vulnerability in her eyes betraying her words. She was strong but the circumstances were starting to take a toll on her.
“You’re right,” I conceded, draping my arm around her waist and leading her out the door. I could get used to this; this could begin to feel like my new normal. I would love it. I loved the way she smelled, the way her dark eyes brightened whenever she looked at me. We walked silently along the narrow hallway, both lost in our thoughts when a dark figure leaning against the ice machine caught my eye. A man, hooded and rough-looking, leered at Adriana as we passed by.
I glared at him, expecting him to cast his gaze down.
But he didn’t. He met my eyes with a challenging glare of his own, his gaze flickering back to Adriana with a hungry look that set my blood on fire. “Keep walking,” I told Adriana, squeezing her waist to urge her forward. I wanted her as far away from this man as possible.
She must have seen the tension in my face because she gave me a questioning look but complied. She continued down the hallway, her steps faltering slightly as she glanced over her shoulder at the man.
“I’ll be right back,” I said before turning on my heel to confront the man. “Hey, man, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Got a problem?” he asked, his voice gravelly with a side of cockiness. His eyes, predatory and lecherous, flickered once again over my shoulder in the direction Adriana had disappeared. My jaw tightened at the sight. He patted the pocket of his jeans. “I have money.”
I had to stop my jaw from dropping. My mind reeled. Was this sick bastard trying to buy Adriana? My body surged with an energy so potent I thought I’d implode. A low growl erupted from the back of my throat.
“What the fuck,” I muttered, shaking my head in disbelief. I decided then and there that a quick lesson was needed. “How dare you think that means you’re going to have a chance with my woman?”
His eyes widened as realization dawned on him, yet instead of backing down, a defiant smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. He was testing my restraint.
“What are you going to do about it, pretty boy?” he sneered.
I didn’t think he realized who he was dealing with until I slammed him against the brick wall of the motel. He gave a grunt of surprise but I didn’t give him any time to recover as I landed a punch straight into his face. His head snapped back and hit the wall with a sickening crunch.
He reached out and tried to go for my eyes. But I blocked him, slamming my elbow into his face. The taste of blood and the scent of sweat filled the air between us.
“You do not fucking disrespect my woman!” I said, each punch on his face harder, faster…his bones crunched under my fist, which hurt like a bitch. Despite the pain shooting up my hand, I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. The image of him leering at Adriana was burned into my mind and it fueled my rage even more.
With each hit, his face morphed into a mess of blood and bruises, his defiant smirk replaced by a mask of horror and pain. I felt a sick sense of satisfaction seeing him pay for his transgression.
His attempts to fight back lessened with each blow until he hung limply against the wall, barely conscious. My fists hurt, my knuckles split open from the repeated assault but the pain felt good, cleansing almost. It was a punishment I had deserved.
Then I heard her voice. “Tristan!” Adriana’s scream cut through the night air like a dagger through butter. Suddenly, the world around me came crashing down. The buzzing neon signs, the distant hum of traffic…it all seemed to merge into irrelevant noise. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I turned around, meeting her horrified gaze. Her eyes were wide, filled with a mix of fear and disbelief. Any of the warmth that had been there when she looked at me that day was gone, replaced by a cold hard shock. Her voice echoed in my ears, drowning out the man’s pained gasps at my feet.
“Tristan!” she screamed again, running toward us. The desperation in her cry made my heart twist painfully inside my chest.
“Stay back,” I warned, holding out an arm to stop her from getting any closer. My knuckles throbbed, smeared with the stranger’s blood. I didn’t want her near this mess. This was my doing, not hers.
“He’s hurt,” she pointed out needlessly, her eyes darting between me and the man on the ground. “You can’t just leave him here.”
“It’s none of our concern.” I replied, glancing down at the unconscious man with disdain.
“It’s definitely our concern, you just beat the shit out of him!”
Fuck–just another reminder that she and I came from different worlds. Because maybe for her, this was unusual, wrong–but this man had insulted my woman, basically called her a whore to my face.
He deserved to die painfully as far as I was concerned.
And yet…
