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“Tristan, yeah,” I say, returning a direct stare.
“Pierce. Heard you’ve been doing time.”
“Don’t start, babe,” Isabel warns, but the guy doesn’t even acknowledge her.
I shrug and return to the other side of the room. “Yeah. Just got out yesterday.”
“Vehicular homicide, right?”
I look back, surprised by the open provocation. Really? That’s how we’re playing this?
I allow a quick glance at Iz, and there’s nothing I like about the way she’s tensed up. Her fist is clenched around a pen, and she’s doing everything she can to shrink into the background.
“Technically, accident involving death and a few other things, why?” I say, straightening to my full six feet, three inches. Isabel may be intimidated by her boyfriend, but I could give two fucks what this punk thinks.
“Where’d you serve?”
“SCI Burlington.”
A slight smile skims his lips, and I’d love to caress it with my fist.
“I’ve heard that’s a tough place.”
“You heard correctly.”
“We reviewed a journal article about SCI Burlington inmates in my Criminal Procedures class last semester. They said the violent assault rate between inmates was almost fifteen points higher than the national average.”
His eyes flash, daring me to react.
“Stop it,” Iz snaps, tugging his sleeve.
He jerks his arm away with a hard look at her, and my blood boils. She’s not going to take that bullshit, right? At least a patented Isabel Gardner verbal lashing would suffice. I glance at Iz, whose cheeks have flushed, her fierce hazel eyes downcast and focusing on the table. Wait, is this for real? Does this idiot not know what he has? How the hell can you date this woman and not appreciate her magnificent fire? It makes me hate the douche even more.
“Yeah? What’d those articles say about the assault rate by inmatesafterrelease?” I ask with a smirk. The humility gods will forgive me for shoving my hands in my back pockets and leaning into a cocky stance.How far do you want to take this, dude?
He scans me, evaluating the challenge before finally backing down. “It must feel good to be out.”
“So far.”
Is it? I don’t know if I can answer that yet.
“Baby, can we just—”
Isabel stops at his dark look, shrinking further into her chair. Heat burns in my chest. She can’t seriously be dating this guy. This incredible girl is a warrior who takes shit from no one. How did she end up with a jealous, controlling asshole?
I cast a glance at Kim who returns a silent warning. She tolerates this prick too? What the hell happened to these two badasses?
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” I ask when it’s obvious I am. I feel my sister’s silent scolding, but come on. This guy is begging for a fight.
“No, just discussing dinner plans,” he says, resting his hand on Isabel’s shoulder.
Something tightens in my stomach as I study the connection for a beat. Protectiveness, right? I’ve always been cursed with that. I’m also good at reading people, a skill that helped me survive the last four years.
“We were going to order in, but I think we’ll go out,” he says.
His gaze locks on me again, as if daring me to protest. Why, I don’t know. What the hell do I care where he eats with his girlfriend?
But I do.
