I’ve never seen him like this. All charm is gone. There’s no humor. His eyes are almost black. He’s in cowboy boots, but he stands ready to chase Damon down. His arms are out and ready, and his hands are clenching and unclenching into fists.
“Cruz.” I creep closer to him. The angry kid is now an irate adult. “Let him go.”
Damon slips out from between the wall and Cruz. Cruz pivots to make sure he’s blocking me from Damon. I scoot to the side to peer around him.
Oh hell. The sidewalk is lined with everyone who’s still here. Worse, the three Hennessy brothers and Lane are flanking Cruz. Of course this is the moment all of them are together.
Damon looks behind him and grimaces. He must’ve spotted the line of tall, dark men with menacing expressions. His mouth curls into a sneer and he pins me with a glare over Cruz’s shoulder. “The due date is soon. Don’t be late.”
Cruz steps to the side to block his glare. “Start walking, fuckface.”
“You need to stay out of this.” Damon’s menacing voice has nothing on Cruz. “She doesn’t want people to know about her criminal back?—”
The punch is so fast, I jump back and gasp. The smack of Cruz’s fist against Damon’s face is louder than I could’ve ever imagined.
I dart to the side to see better. Damon’s stumbling around, trying to keep his balance. Cruz is flexing his hand.
“What the fuck!” Damon’s working his jaw around and shaking his head. A trickle of blood escapes from the corner of his mouth.
“Start walking.” Cruz’s steel tone makes a shiver whisper over my skin.
Damon spins around but spots the men glaring at him. Even the Huangs are standing guard between the booths like they’re making sure Damon can’t hide anywhere. He pivots toward me and Cruz.
“Boy, you’d better start running.” Cruz stalks toward him.
Damon takes the advice, tucking his head down and doing a lurching jog. At the last second, each of the Foster House men moves out of the way, but not enough that Damon doesn’t get jostled going through them.
Satisfaction fills me, but the ramifications are right behind it.
Cruz whips around, and he’s back to being my Cruz with a concerned blue gaze and a softness just for me. “Are you okay?” He rushes to close the distance between us, but I scurry backward.
His boots skid to a stop. “Elodie.”
I shake my head. Dismay fills me so full. My temples ache. “You weren’t supposed to do that.”
“The shit he was spewing was wrong.”
“He’s going to tell everyone,” I say in a strangled whisper. My pulse jumps and lurches. God, what a mess.
The attention of the onlookers burns into me. My skin shrinks tight while my insides expand from all the fear and anxiety. I can’t stand this. I rush into the bakery.
Cruz is on my heels all the way to the kitchen. “Look, I’m sorry?—”
“Are you?” I yell and throw an arm in the air. “Are you really? I asked you not to confront him.”
“He called you a whore!”
“That’smyproblem.” My hands flop down and hit my thighs. Stress is a vortex in my belly, making it clench to heave the lunch I had hours ago. “Now I’m going to have more.”
“We’ll deal with him.”
I draw in a shaky breath. He’s so sure of himself. So resolute. He doesn’t know what’s at stake. How could he? I didn’t talk to him. “He’s going to ruin my business, Cruz. This is a game to him.”
“A game you don’t need to play.”
“But I do! He doesn’t need the money. He’ll use it, but he doesn’t need it. He wants to see me panic. He wants me to scramble to pay him. And when I fail, he’s going to have just as much fun telling everyone about me and watching my business disintegrate.”
“No one’s going to believe a cocksucker like him. Huckleberry Springs loves you, your family, and the bakery.”
