Page 68 of A Stop in Time
Porter snickers. “Nope. He definitely didn’t touch no lady.”
An ominous premonition settles over me a moment. Nobody’s going to back down. These two assclowns are too stupid to do that, and there’s no way in hell Daniel will. Evidently, he has some ingrained protector mode when it comes to women, and it’s been activated.
I’m proven right when Porter pulls out his switchblade—seriously, what is it with people and fucking knives around here?—and flicks it open, taunting Daniel. “You don’t know who you’re messin’ with, but you’re gonna regret it.”
Daniel doesn’t show any visible reaction aside from the tense lines framing his mouth. “Doubtful.” When his free hand discreetly moves to his back near where his gun is holstered, I know I need to act fast.
Overwrought with panic pulsing through my veins, my heart races while my hands grow shaky. I don’t hesitate to do it; I press my finger and thumb together, and everything stills. The exhale that falls from my mouth is audible in the silence.
Zero hesitation blankets my movement when I raise my hand and slap Clay across the face. His cheek instantly blooms with color, but that only offers a slight balm to my anger.
I slide Porter’s knife from his grasp, flip it closed, and pluck the cash from Daniel’s pocket before slamming both the money and knife on the cashier’s counter.
Quickly prying Daniel’s fingers free of Clay’s wrist, the swift shove I give Clay sends him tumbling into Porter, and the two topple to the floor, bodies still rigid.
I’m about to restart time when a deep familiar voice mutters, “The fuck?”
My body goes rigid with alarm as my eyes fly to Daniel. Because everyone else is still paused in time.
Except for him.
The fuck, indeed.
30
DANIEL
This can’t be fucking happening.
I scan the entire restaurant, but every single person looks like they’ve been frozen in time. It’s like somebody pressed pause.
Mac’s eyes widen and her face pales, lips parting in surprise. Jesus fucking Christ. She’s not the one who should be looking shocked.
“The fuck is goin’ on.” I grind out the words, phrasing it as a demand instead of a question. Damn if the hairs on the back of my neck aren’t standing on end.
I’ve watched Bronson’s wife, Georgia, briefly revive my sister, and that’s freaky as hell. Witnessing a man turn invisible, who has the power to turn me invisible, too, fucked with my mind.
And now, I discover Mac can stop time. It’s like I’ve been air-dropped into some weird-as-fuck alternate reality.
Pulse hammering like crazy at the side of her neck, Mac wets her lips nervously. “How the hell are you…” She trails off, appearing shell-shocked. “I’ve never…” Blinking a few times, she shakes her head and rolls her shoulders, as if attempting to regain composure.
I pin her with my glare. “You’ve got five seconds to explain what the fuck is happenin’.”
Her features turn stormy, and she hitches her chin up. “Anybody ever tell you you’re overbearing as hell?”
I step closer, and aggravation at having to look up at me flickers across her face. “Answer me right the fuck now.”
When I fix my menacing glare on her, this woman doesn’t react like every other person would: scared shitless. She’s got more of a backbone than most men I come across. “You got any other tricks up your sleeve?”
She huffs out a sound and rolls her eyes. “I’m not a magician, Danny.”
Fuck, does she test me. “It’s Daniel.”
“Don’t care. But no, I don’t have any more”—she does finger quotes—“tricks up my sleeve.” A cross between a snort and snicker falls from her mouth. “Don’t have sleeves, anyway, so—hey!”
I grab her by the upper arm and march her toward the nearby hallway that leads to the restrooms. She sputters, attempting to twist free, but it’s not happening.
Once she’s backed against the wall, I let her jerk her arm free.