Page 143 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

I used to believe that.

I had convinced myself of it because Mike never laid a hand on me. Not directly. He was cruel. He was angry. He was a bad person. But he never hit me.

Except that night had been burned into my memory. The way his hand had grabbed my arm, the way my foot had slipped, the way gravity had stolen me before I even knew what was happening.

It wasn’t a slap. It wasn’t a punch.

I could never forget what it led to.

“Leave.” I twisted my wrist to break free, but Mike’s grip only tightened.

“Not without you,” he said, dragging me a step closer. “You’re coming with me.”

Panic flared in my chest as he pulled harder, jerking me forward so fast my feet stumbled.

“Mike, let me go!” I shoved at him with my free hand, nails scraping against the fabric of his jacket.

“You’re done with this little game,” he snapped, shaking me hard enough that my teeth clicked together. “You don’t belong here, Fable. You belong with me. I’ll give you everything you need back in Chicago—your career, your life. Me.”

The truck was too close.

No.

I thrashed, twisting my body, but he was stronger, dragging me step by step, his grip ironclad.

The night air swallowed my ragged breaths, my pulse hammering so loud I barely registered the rustling movement beyond the truck.

Until a voice sliced through the dark.

“I think the lady asked you to leave.”

Mike’s grip faltered for half a second.

A shadow moved. Boots crunching against the dirt. Beau stepped into the dim glow of the porch light, broad shoulders squared, muscles coiled tight beneath his shirt. His face was carved from stone, but his eyes?

Pure, lethal intent.

Mike must’ve felt it, too, because for the first time, his hold loosened slightly.

Not enough to let go.

“Let. Her. Go.”

“The hell are you supposed to be?” Mike sneered. “You the guy she’s with?”

Beau didn’t even blink. “You worried about that?”

Mike scoffed. “Not really.”

“Then what are you still doing here?” Beau was still calm, still composed, but there was something sharp in his tone, something that made my stomach flip.

Mike scoffed. “She’s my fiancée.”

I gritted my teeth, yanking back against his grip. “Ex-fiancée, you pathetic asshole.”

Beau’s jaw ticked. “I don’t give a shit who you were to her. Right now, she’s asking you to leave, and you’re not listening.” His voice dropped lower, a quiet, deadly promise. “That’s a mistake.”

Mike let out a laugh, but it was thinner this time, nervous. He still hadn’t let go, but now it felt more like a desperate attempt to hold on to something rather than any real power.