Her gaze cautiously flutters up, locking onto mine. The restaurant blurs around me, as though it’s just us.
“You can lie to the world, church girl, but I see you. Gabe? Come on. Talk to me.”
She sniffles, and for a split second, her chin quivers.
“Jack... he has a photo of us. I had to. He’ll use it against you and the center.”
I chuckle softly and gently lace a lock of hair behind her ear. My fingertips skim the delicate edge, and I am transported back to tracing it with my tongue and nipping her earlobe. Her perfume fills my nostrils. I remember that intoxicating scent underneath me.
I can feel myself practically hunching over to keep her close and everyone else away.
“A photo? You protecting me, baby?” I murmur for just her to hear.
She nods, barely.
I bite my bottom lip, trying to stop myself from kissing her. She leans her cheek into my palm like two months never separated us, making my chest freeze. I stroke my thumb under her eye, tender. “Never give yourself to anyone for me. Promise me.”
“Jack,” she whispers, her breath shaky. “Everything just so hard without you.”
She’s about to break, unable to hold herself together. Her hazel eyes well with tears, gutting me to see her pained.
“Hey, man!” Gabe snarls and grabs my arm. I spin to face him.
He stamps his foot. “Morgan is done with you, you tattooed lowlife.”
“Lowlife?” hisses Noel, jarring me.
Then, Gabe glares at her. “Tell him you’ve made your choice. Now.” His long fingers snake behind her neck, more a noose than an affectionate gesture. He holds her there, stiff and despondent.
She grimaces, caught between us, her body frozen like she is unable to say no. She has the same fear and panic in those eyes as she did the night Gabe attacked her. She might as well be saying, ‘Save me.’
Not a problem.
I shove Gabe’s chest hard, sending him toppling onto his ass. He thrashes, and kicks, but I drag him backward by his hair like he’s a trash bag.
Morgan yells. Never mind her.
His feet hook on the edge of a booth, but Noel kicks them free. I pull him into the kitchen. The staff back away from the abrupt ruckus and gawk.
It all happens so fast. Ten seconds, maybe.
Fueled by adrenaline, I grab his hand and shove it into the fryer.
Gabe screams bloody murder while Noel helps hold him in place. After a few seconds, I let him go. He flings himself backward onto the floor, screaming and holding his forearm just below the blistering skin.
“Go touch her with your slimy hand now,” I growl.
I hardly notice people screaming. Even Morgan’s frantic cries are muffled.
Because a thought flickers as the world around us fades back.
Tommy.
“Come on,” I order, and Noel follows on my heels. People record on their phones. We snatch Tommy and fly out of the door.
In the parking lot, I start the car and slam into reverse, squealing onto the street.
Noel catches his breath in the backseat.
