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He closes the gap between us again, his voice low and dangerous.
“You’re a little bitch, Elle. A fucking whore. And I’m going to show you want happens to women like you when they fuck with the wrong guys.”
He reaches out and grabs my wrist. I try to wrench it free, but his grip is too firm. He shoves me roughly against the car. I try to twist away, to push him off me, but it’s no use. I’m pinned to the vehicle by his weight. I can smell the stale sweat on him, and I can see the crazed look in his eyes.
I feel sick, dizzy, terrified. What can I do to escape him before he touches me?
I hear a noise from the trees that line the dirt track, and I look up. My heart skips a beat as I see Falcon walking toward us, his face clouded with barely concealed rage.
CHAPTER TEN
FALCON
When I reach the end of the road, and the farmhouse is in sight, I instantly spot Franklin’s car. He and Elle are out of the car, standing beside it talking. I strain to hear their words, but I can’t. If I get any closer, I’ll be visible to them. I hang back, watching, waiting.
It’s still possible that a meeting could be taking place here. Elle and Franklin are just talking. I even see him laughing at one point. I’m not leaving here until they do though, and if Elle spots my car on the way out of here and recognizes it as one of my company cars, I’ll just have to deal with that as it comes.
Franklin is standing between Elle and me, mostly blocking my view of her. He’s too close to her for my liking, but I hold myself back. I can’t go out there and beat her boss to a pulp without a better reason than I was jealous because he was a bit too close if I want her to ever speak to me again.
Elle moves backward suddenly, pressing herself against the car, and I can’t decide if she’s backing away from Franklin out of fear, or if she just wants to take the weight off her feet for a moment. Her heels are damn high, and I know they’re likely hurting her feet.
Franklin reaches out and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. I feel a sharp twist of jealousy and anger come to the surface. I can hear my blood pumping through my veins as the red mist of rage overtakes me. I know now. Elle wasn’t backing away, he shoved her against the car. I don’t give a fuck what his intentions are now. He’s crossed the line, and he’s going to damn well pay for it.
I step out of the trees and Elle must hear me. She looks over Franklin’s shoulder at me, and the terror in her eyes does it. I’m no longer Falcon Morris, CEO and respectable businessman. I’m The Falcon, champion MMA fighter who doesn’t know when to stop without his trainer dragging him away from a fight.
“Get your fucking hands off my wife right the fuck now, you dirty bastard,” I say.
I don’t shout. I speak quietly, dangerously. Franklin hears that tone in my voice, and he drops Elle like she’s burning him. She scuttles away, moving to a safe distance at the hood of the car. Franklin turns around. His face goes white when he sees me, and his mouth opens and closes as he tries to think of something to say to appease me. It would be comical under any other circumstances, but there is nothing funny about what happened here today, and there is nothing funny about what’s to come.
“You … you’re married to Falcon Morris?” Franklin stutters, turning his head to look at Elle.
“Don’t you fucking dare even look at her,” I say.
I am only a couple of feet away from him now, and I can smell his fear.
“Look, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know,” Franklin says, his gaze back on me.
He backs up until he’s pressed against the car. His eyes are enormous, the whites seeming to grow larger as his fear grows. He knows he’s not walking away from this.
“Maybe you didn’t,” I say. “But you knew she didn’t want you. And you were going to force yourself on her anyway, weren’t you?”
He looks down at the ground and then he looks back up at me.
“She wanted it,” he says.
That does it. The taste of coppery adrenaline floods my mouth and my whole body pulses with anger. I am done talking.
I step forward and pull Franklin away from the car. I punch him hard on his jaw. His head snaps to the side. He looks at me, his breath coming in pants, his eyes those of a trapped animal. He swings for me, and I easily block his punch, shoving his hand away like it’s air.
