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To his right, a loud crash jerked Tyson’s attention in that direction, and he saw a woman standing several feet away from a man who slammed a bat into the sideview mirror of a beat-up old Chevy. “You bitch,” he shouted in a drunken slur and hit the truck again, crunching the fender in a loud, metallic sound.
“Stop it,” the woman shrieked. “I should never have married you, bastard.”
“This is what I’m going to do to you, whore.” The drunk staggered and took another swing at the truck, putting a big dent in the passenger door. “Let’s see if you can sleep with another man then. No man’s gonna look at you with a broken face.”
The back of Tyson’s neck burned, and his gut grew tight. He’d heard enough. “Wait here,” he said to Haylee.
“No.” Her eyes widened, and she grabbed his arm. “Don’t get into the middle of a domestic dispute. I’m calling the sheriff’s department, and they can handle it.”
“I can’t let him hurt her.” Tyson disentangled himself from Haylee’s grasp and strode toward the man and woman.
“Damn it, Tyson,” Haylee shouted after him. “Get back here.”
“This is going to be your head.” The drunk crumpled a fender with his next hit, the threat making Tyson’s skin prickle with heat. The man put power into his swing, and Tyson would be damned if he would let this man hurt his wife.
The man staggered up to the woman who screamed obscenities at him, moonlight glinting off the teardrops rolling down her cheeks.
Tyson ran behind the drunk, who dropped the bat and raised his fist to punch the woman. Tyson grabbed the man’s fist, stopping it from connecting with the woman’s face.
“What the fuck?” The asshole jerked his hand away from Tyson and whirled around.
“Keep your hands off her,” Tyson said in a dead serious tone.
“Mind your own fucking business.” A cloud of alcohol filled the space between them before the man drove his fist toward Tyson’s jaw.
Tyson caught the drunk’s wrist and held it tightly. “Settle down and act like a man.”
“I’ll show you who’s the man around here,” the drunk slurred, jammed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a gun.
A chill crawled down Tyson’s spine as he released the drunk’s wrist and raised his hands. He thought he heard Haylee scream.
“Leave him alone,” the woman shrieked even louder. “Leave my husband alone!”
Tyson barely heard the woman through the blood rushing in his ears as he stared down the pistol’s barrel. The man hadn’t put his finger on the trigger, not yet. Tyson kept his hands raised and spoke slowly and clearly. “Put the gun away.”
“Leave my husband alone!” The woman repeated the cry over and over. She came up beside Tyson and shoved him. She was stronger than he would have expected, and he took a step to the side to catch himself.
Sirens sounded, coming up fast.
The man still pointed his gun in Tyson’s face, and Tyson kept his hands up in clear view of the drunk. “Put the gun down.” He kept his tone even. “You don’t want to shoot someone and end up in prison.”
“I’ll teach you to poke your nose into other people’s business.” The gun wavered as the man struggled to keep his arm steady. His finger twitched and started to move to the trigger.
Tyson stepped in, snatched the gun from the man, twisted his arm behind his back, and took him facedown to the ground.
The woman screamed obscenities and started beating on Tyson’s back. It didn’t hurt, but it was annoying as hell.
The man shouted equally vulgar words and struggled in Tyson’s grip.
Sheriff’s department SUVs rounded the corner, tires squealing. Gravel crunched as they pulled into the lot, and then they cut their sirens. Tyson set the gun by his knee, where it would be in easy grasp if the woman charged for it, but he wouldn’t be holding it when the deputies came on the scene.
The next half hour was spent sorting things out. Tyson knew several members of the sheriff’s department, so he didn’t have a problem explaining what had happened. But he was told next time to leave it to the professionals.
The drunk remained belligerent, shouting that he would kill Tyson for interfering, and the woman screaming that everything was Tyson’s fault.
When the deputies let him go after questioning, Tyson strode back to where Haylee stood. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and she looked pissed as hell.
She lowered her arms and balled her hands into fists when he stood before her. Her voice came out low and hard. “That was the stupidest damned thing you could have done. You should have waited for the sheriff’s deputies. That idiot could have killed you.”
