His eyes are darting around the room. At the mostly silent tables. At the eyes on us. The motel owner and her husband are watching carefully. He’s got a butcher knife in his hand. I shoot them a wink, watching as she relaxes, patting her husband on the arm.
“You really think you could take me in a fair fight?” he mutters, taking a step back.
“Fair fight? Why the fuck would I be interested in a fight with you? You’re in my way. You’re disrespecting my woman. So you push this, I’m putting you the fuck down.” I lean in, my smile dropping. “Your only option here is to walk the fuck away. Any other choice, you’re going to be bleeding on the floor. Trust me, you don’t want to tangle with me. You’re going to end up in a world of hurt.”
It must finally get through to him. He mutters a “whatever” and strides back to his table with a scowl. I wait until he’s seated before sliding in next to Cara. I press close, lining up our thighs. Part of it is instinct to stay between her and any threat. But mostly, I just want to be near her.
“You okay?” I ask. She’s tough, but she’s been through a lot in the last month. I don’t want some asshole giving her a flashback or something.
She’s studying me, a small frown on her face. “I’m okay. I just...”
“You just what?”
“I was worried he was going to start something with you.”
“Nah,” I say, sliding my beer toward me and taking a sip. “Guys like him aren’t dangerous alone.
He wasn’t going to do much more than talk.”
“How can you know that, though?”
“Have you forgotten how I grew up?”
“But, I mean, your brothers were always around, right? You didn’t get into that many fights, did you?”
I shift around on the worn vinyl seat. “No,” I answer her truthfully. “I didn’t get into many fights. But my brothers made sure I could handle myself. No way would Colt let any of us walk around unprotected. He and Micah are the shit, so they worked with all of us.”
“So, you’re telling me that if that had escalated, you would have been able to handle it?” Something about the disbelief on her face gets to me. Puts me on edge. The kid in me wants to stride across the room and punch that fucker out so she finally understands I can protect her. But the man knows better.
Still stings, though.
“Yes, Cara. I can handle myself. And I can sure as fuck protect you.”
Her cheeks redden. “I wasn’t...I mean—“
“Yeah, you were,” I say, cutting her off. “It’s fine.” Drumming my hands on the table, I look to the kitchen, hoping for a distraction. Thank fuck, Grace is heading over with two steaming plates.
“Here you go, kids. Beef Stew and garlic bread. Enjoy.”
I catch her arm, gently tugging her back. Leaning down, she lets me whisper to her. “The guys in the suits … they’re not going to drop this. Where’s their room, so I can keep an eye out?”
Her mouth tightens, but she nods, the movement so tiny I almost missed it. “You’re right. They’re four doors from you, closer to the bar.”
I tug her a little closer, giving her a peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Grace.”
She pats me on the cheek, “Welcome, honey.” Then spins and disappears back into the kitchen.
Cara’s eyeing me, spoon hovering over her bowl. “What was that?”
This stew smells fucking amazing. “What was what?” I ask as I spoon up a big bite. I’m burning my fucking tongue, but it’s so worth it.
“What were you whispering to her?”
I shove a couple more bites into my mouth, chewing and hissing. Then put the spoon down. “I just needed a little more information from her. That’s all.” Her gaze turns mulish, and I’m fucked. No point in dragging this out. She will not let this go. I recognize that look. “I just needed to know where the asshole’s room was. That’s all.”
“Why do you need to know that?”
“Because there’s a chance he’s not going to let this drop, and I want to be prepared for that.”
