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“Knee him. You got room, Princess.”
She tries, she does, but I’m over this. I get up and grab the guy, pulling him off her and tossing him back so he stumbles and falls on his ass.
When he tries to get up, I put a booted foot down on his throat. Not hard, just enough to let his drunk fucking ol’ ass get the fact I don’t want him up. I want him to stay.
It’s either this or beat the living shit out of him.
“Good. You stay there. I’m giving you a pass, okay? On account my girl here is sweet. And she isn’t into me making scumbags like you bleed. She’s a princess, so she isn’t into having fuckin’ bonehead blood on her. Women, eh?”
Sidney grabs my arm. “Stop, let’s go.”
But I don’t pay her the attention she’s asking.
Because I want him bleeding. I want my fists to make friends with his face. So, since I’m not going to do that, I’m having this.
“So, this is your pass. I’m not beating you up for putting hands on a woman who doesn’t want you touching her. Who you don’t even deserve to fuckin’ look at, let alone touch. But it has a caveat. Do it again, to anyone, especially my princess, and I’ll hunt you down. Bring my friends. Best thing is? My brother’s a lawman, so he’ll keep the key after we throw your broken body into a cell. Got me?”
He doesn’t answer.
He looks like he wants to be that dumb-ass drunk and fight me.
I press a little harder, and he goes puce.
“Got me?” I ask again.
The guy gives a gurgle. “Good.”
I lift my foot, cut my gaze hard to the pale and shaking Sidney, and toss her my keys.
“Mack?”
“Get in the fuckin’ truck.”
Once she’s gone, I bend down and put my hand on his shoulder, stopping the guy from getting up.
“If you got a problem with any of that, I’m Mack Burns. Norhill Tops. Come find me, and we’ll talk.”
And with that, I rise, turn, and stalk off.
* * *
I’ve been driving about five minutes, and the silence is so fucking thick it could be used to insulate anything.
Gripping the wheel tight, I don’t even put on the radio. I’m waiting . . . I don’t know what fucking for. Something. Anything. One minute, we were kissing and the lights spun, our breaths mingling, and that hot tightness of delicious intimacy had been there, and then I cooled off because, yeah. Then she ran. Got herself in trouble. And now?
“Sidney.”
She doesn’t speak, but in the light from the dash, she clasps her hands and dips her head.
“I’m fuckin’ real sick of waiting for you to talk. To give me anything. Do you want me to apologize for kissing you—”
“Stop the truck. Please.”
I do. I pull up hard on the shoulder of the road, and she jerks forward a little in her seat, the belt cutting light into her soft flesh.
“Because—”
I don’t finish. She’s out of the truck in a flash, and my temper, it . . . it goes bang. I jump out and round the vehicle, hands on her as I make her face me.
