AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What part of ‘go away’ did you miss?” Sam asked, tone bored. “Shoo.”
“Oh, come on, sweetheart. You don’t mean that. I could show you what it’s like to be with a real man.” He nodded at Sam’s handbasket. “You don’t want some pussy who wants you to do all the work. Why don’t we grab a burger and talk about it? Me and my buddy are driving down to the coast tonight. Lots of room in the rig for a pretty thing like you.”
Oh, hell no. Gibson strode forward but didn’t get to her before the guy put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. Her reaction was instant and swift.
She dropped her basket, grabbed the guy’s hand, and bent his wrist at a painful angle.
“Motherfuck—” The guy bent over, trying to yank his hand back.
Sam caught sight of Gibson heading her way, and despite the fact that she was clearly handling things herself, relief flashed in her eyes. She shoved the guy’s hand away. “Touch me again, and I will fucking break it.”
“What the hell’s your problem?” The guy grabbed his wrist.
Gibson reached them, seeing red and ready to throw down. “Better listen to the lady and walk away, asshole.”
Sam put a hand on his arm before he could get in the guy’s face. “It’s all right. Come on.”
The dude was massaging his wrist, his skin flushed with anger. He gave Gibson an up-and-down look, his expression twisting into an ugly snarl before looking back to Sam. “So this is your bitch, huh? You buy some pretty panties for him? Looks like he’s got his in a wad.”
Gibson’s teeth clamped together and his fists curled. He’d seen this kind of guy before. They’d lived in his broken-down neighborhood where he’d grown up. Men who didn’t have a brain in the head but got off on strutting around like they were hot shit, tossing out threats and starting fights. Gibson wanted to give him one. But Sam’s nails were digging into his bicep.
Sam tugged. “Come on. Don’t waste your time.”
“What’s taking so long, man?” another voice came from the left as a guy who looked much like his friend—worn jeans, heavy boots, trucker hat—rounded the corner of the aisle. He had a stack of DVDs in his hand. “Whoa, what’s going on?”
The guy in front of Gib relaxed a little, smiled, sat back on his heels like they were all just friends here. “Nothing, Jimmy. Just trying to help this pretty lady and give her the option of a real man tonight.” He reached down into the basket Sam had dropped on the floor and pulled out what to Gibson’s horror looked to be a strap-on. “Seems she’s got one who doesn’t know how to use his dick.”
The other guy looked Gib’s way, disgust on his face. “Dude, you let her do you with that? That’s fucking gay.”
Gibson didn’t give a shit if the other guys thought he was gay, straight, or otherwise. But that old familiar anxiety was creeping in at their ridicule, making his chest tight and his words disappear. And in that look of derision from the other two men, Gib could see his father’s face, the judgment.
One of his father’s favorite insults had been calling Gibson a fag. He hadn’t played sports. He’d been a quiet kid. He had known how to take a punch but not throw one. His father had itemized his weaknesses on a regular basis, stabbing, stabbing, stabbing at those soft spots until they bled into every part of his life.
But, oh, when he’d gotten old enough, he’d learned that last one. He’d fucking learned. Hours in a garage after school with a guy who knew how to street fight. Gibson hadn’t just learned. He’d learned to fight dirty, how to take the pain, and how to win. And by the time he was sixteen, even his father had become wary of him. If his brother hadn’t stepped back into his life a few years later and gotten Gib’s head on straight, Gib would probably be locked up in jail somewhere. But right now he wanted to display those old street skills to the fullest and wipe the smug looks off these guys’ faces.
But before he could act, Sam yanked the toy from the guy’s hand and dropped it back into her basket. Then she got in his face, looking ten feet tall and vengeful despite her petite form. She gave him a saccharine smile, one edged with murderous promise. “And look who’s going home with me and look who’s buying a big stack of porn so you can jack each other off later. Because, let’s face it, we both know no woman or gay man in their right mind would touch either of you without getting paid first.” She stepped back and picked up her basket. “Enjoy your circle jerk, fellas.”
She linked her arm with Gibson’s and started walking away.
“Stupid cunt.” The words sounded from behind them, and Gibson didn’t think that time.
He let go of Sam, turned around, and laid the guy out on the floor with a solid right hook. When the guy’s friend jumped into the fray, Gibson didn’t even feel the hits. He took that guy on, too.
Sometimes having a high pain tolerance had its perks. He threw another punch and felt the satisfaction of hearing that fucker howl.
He was so focused on taking the guys down that he didn’t see the horrified look on Sam’s face or hear her yelling. He didn’t see when she left.
He didn’t see or hear anything until two cops grabbed him from behind and slapped cuffs on him.
He’d figured he’d end up in restraints tonight.
This was not what he’d had in mind.
Chapter 7
Sam paced the waiting room at the small police station, fuming. Smoke was probably trailing behind her, she was so freaking pissed. Gibson had gone after those guys in the shop like some rabid bulldog, and not only had he gotten himself punched, he’d gotten picked up by the cops. She’d told him to walk away and it’d been like she’d said nothing at all. They could be home right now having a nice night together. But no, they were here. Because of male fucking pride.
One of the officers had come out a few minutes ago to let her know that the other guys weren’t going to press charges. The store clerk had given a statement that the truckers had been giving Sam trouble. There was video. So that was a huge relief. But Gibson was still back in the bowels of the tiny building, finishing up giving his own statement. And she was stuck here.
