I don’t like where this is going at all. He sounds like someone from the media, and I wonder if he really was in manufacturing work before.
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” I tell him.
“Oh right,” he says, his head bobbing up and down. “Yeah, yeah. Sure. I just wanted you to know you could if you wanted to.”
“I don’t.”
“It had to have been rough on you.”
I look at him sternly, annoyed more than anything now, and he seems to get the idea.
“It’s okay,” he says with another toothy grin. He leans forward and lays his hand on my knee. “I’ll shut up about
it now.”
His grip tightens for a moment before he slides his hand up my leg. I can’t move. My vision blurs. For a moment, I’m transported back to that van, and I feel the tight grip of fingers around my legs as they’re held in place.
“Just remember, if you start getting a little tense, I’m right here for ya.” He slides his hand a little further up my thigh and grips my flesh with his fingers.
Everything happens so fast.
One moment, Brett has his hand on my leg, and the next, he’s flung backwards. The chair tips along with him, and Falk is on top of him, slamming a fist into his face. I jump out of my chair, yelling at Falk to stop, but he doesn’t pay any attention to me.
Brett grabs hold of Falk’s forearms, and the two of them roll. For a brief moment, Brett is on top, but Falk quickly jabs a fist into his side, and they roll again. I jump backward and end up against the wall of the shed.
At that point, everyone has heard the commotion, and they all run toward the fight. Falk is still hitting Brett in the chest and face, and Brett is punching Falk in the side, screaming at him to get off.
Caesar makes a grab for Falk, pulling him off of Brett and to the side. He tries to get a grip around Falk’s arms to hold him back, but Falk shoves him away. As Caesar regains his balance, Falk draws the gun at his waist and points it right in Caesar’s face.
“Back off.” Falk’s voice is perfectly calm though his eyes are wide and full of fury. He’s taught me enough about guns to see that he’s flicked off the safety.
“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Caesar yells. “Put that damn thing away before someone gets hurt!”
“He is going to get hurt,” Falk says, pointing the gun to a supine Brett. “He is going to get a bullet in his fucking skull if he ever touches her again!”
“Falk! Stop!” I yell, but he keeps his eyes on Brett.
Both of them are breathing heavily. Brett places his hands behind himself on the ground and stands slowly, holding his arms out in surrender.
“I don’t know what the hell is up, buddy,” he says, “but I was just talking to the lady.”
“Keep your fucking hands off of her,” Falk says through his teeth.
Caesar steps slowly away from Falk and goes to Brett. He grabs the man by the arm and starts to drag him away. Falk lowers his weapon but steps up to Brett, causing Caesar to stop. Falk stares down into Brett’s face.
“She is mine!” Falk growls at him.
Caesar’s eyes widen as he pulls Brett away from Falk. There’s blood running down Brett’s face from a gash near his temple, and his lip is busted open as well.
My back is still pressed against the wall of the shed. I try to take it all in—Brett’s bleeding face, Caesar’s efforts to intervene, and Falk’s outlandish behavior. Falk stalks toward me, his eyes blazing. He slams one hand on the wall right next to me.
“You are mine,” he says gruffly. He raises his other hand and cups my cheek, tilting my head to look at him.
His eyes are bright, and he looks down at me with uncharacteristic emotion. I can feel the tension in his fingertips as they stroke slowly over my cheek. I watch his tongue dart out and moisten his lips just before he presses them firmly against mine.
I gasp against his mouth and clench my fingers around the hem of his shirt.
Despite the manner in which he approached me, his lips are soft and gentle against mine, and his fingers slowly caress the side of my face. The firm muscles in his chest are pressed against my body, and I feel the strength of his arms in every touch.