Kane (Arizona Vengeance 8)

Leaning forward, he lowers his voice, sneering. “I came to punish you. You hurt me, so I hurt you back.”

“You would have killed me, Matthew,” I murmur. “That was your intent, wasn’t it?”

“Your fucking dog made sure that didn’t happen, now didn’t he?” he growls, rubbing at his arm. I wonder if he still has bandages under his sleeve. I hope he has extremely visible, disfiguring scars.

He still hasn’t admitted what his exact intentions were, seeming too squirrely to come right out and say it. Maybe he suspects that I’m wired.

I try another tact Kynan suggested. “What are your intentions, now that you’re in Phoenix?”

Matthew doesn’t answer, but I can tell he enjoys my question by his unsettling smile. He takes a sip of water, then swallows slowly. When he sets the glass down, he replies, “Well now… that depends on you, doesn’t it?”

“Me?” I ask.

“You’re going to give me another chance,” Matthew states confidently. “We’ll hit the road together again, but we’re not taking that crazy dog of yours this time. We can just forget that unpleasant business back in North Carolina.”

My ears start buzzing. It takes me long seconds to realize they’re doing it because I’m so infuriated that he would even think I’d consider such a thing. Had the man not learned a damn thing about me in the few months we’d been together?

Kynan had told me to talk calmly. Insisted I had to keep my cool. Advised me to gently prod Matthew into admitting what he’d done, so we’d have an ironclad case against him.

Every bit of that advice dissolves into nothing but white noise as I plant my forearms on the table, leaning in toward the center. “You expect me to go out on the road with you again?”

My voice quakes with anger, and Matthew blinks in surprise. Apparently, he had taken my slightly subservient attitude as a given.

Not giving him a chance to answer, I bare my teeth and hiss, “You jumped me in my van. Pinned me to the floor. Held me down. You were so furious, and your eyes were crazy. You expect me to just forget all that and go on as if nothing happened? Well, let me tell you something, Matthew. You’re insane. Pathetic.”

Matthew’s face contorts with rage, but I don’t stop talking. “You’re a tiny excuse of a human who has no idea what it means to be a real man.”

Face flushing red, he grits his teeth. He holds up a hand, points a finger, and opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.

“You have low self-esteem and an even tinier dick. Christ… I’m not even sure if you were there to kill me or rape me, but you couldn’t have done much damage with that little bitty pecker—”

“I was there to kill you, bitch,” he screams, pushing up to rise from his chair.

There’s not even a tremor of fear within me. I merely tip my head up, my smile brimming with confidence over the fact I’d just rattled the shit out of him.

Enough to get him to admit his intention to murder me.

And before I can even register that he moved, Saint is out of his chair, holding Matthew in a headlock. Matthew’s eyes bulge out as he gapes at me in stunned surprise.

Matthew hasn’t yet figured out this is a sting. He probably thinks Saint is merely a diner who overheard him call me a bitch and decided to be gallant.

Matthew tries to buck Saint off, calling him all kinds of vile names, but Saint’s immovable.

Pedestrians passing by the outdoor area stop to gawk at the commotion. Within moments, two plainclothes police officers are winding through the tables, guns drawn.

“Arrest this man,” Matthew rasps furiously, but then he gags as Saint tightens his arm around the asshole’s throat.

I just watch.

It’s like the best TV show ever. All I need is popcorn.

“We’ll take over,” one of the officers says, his gun raised and pointed at the two men.

Saint immediately releases his hold, then takes a step back. Furiously, Matthew rubs at his throat and points a shaking finger at Saint. “Arrest that man. I was doing nothing more than having a nice time with my girlfriend when he attacked me for no reason.”

The other officer holsters his gun, then approaches Matthew. He starts to step aside with a cocky smirk, believing Saint is about to be arrested.

Instead, the cop grabs Matthew by the arm, then swiftly jerks the other one behind his back, efficiently snapping a pair of cuffs on him.

“What the fuck?” Matthew snarls. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

The cop who’d had the gun trained on Matthew slides the weapon into his holster, then begins to recite, “Matthew Brighton, you’re being taken into custody under a warrant for your arrest in North Carolina. You have the right to remain silent…”