Page 19 of Stealth Mission
Without looking at me, he says, “Nothing about what I said was rude.”
I’m so over this conversation and even more over dealing with Sylvester period. I narrow my eyes and shake my head. “Calling a strangerflyboyis rude.”
Walt makes a displeased sound. “It’s especially rude when I’m a sailor.”
“Go wash your boat.”
Childish.
I feel it the instant Walt’s control snaps. Body tightening, tone going even more alpha, he says, “You’re out of line and I’m not talking about anything you say to me, because I couldn’t give a fuck, but you treat her bad and you’re going to have to deal with me, and it won’t be pleasant.”
This makes Sylvester seething mad. “Why don’t you head over to the bar. Put your next drink on my tab.”
“It’s an open bar. But no thanks. I’m all good.”
Point for Walt for an epic comeback.
An electric silence vibrates around the three of us, drowning the salsa music coming from the other side of the veranda.
Walt shifts his weight between his shoes, he smooths his lapels and unbuttons his coat. Venomous words follow. “Guess I need to help you understand what ‘not tonight’ means.”
Uh oh.
I hope his suit has enough stretch in it or he’ll be ripping the shoulder seams when he pounds Sylvester into tomorrow.
I let myself have a little fantasy. What a glorious vision. Not the suit ripping, although that could be very sexy. But watching Sylvester run with his tail tucked would make my year.
Only, I sadly know the man is like a boil that you try to pop but never goes away.
I put my hand on Walt’s arm. As much as I hate to stop his epic show of him being much more man than Sylvester, I need to try to keep the peace for several reasons. “Walt, why don’t I give him ONE minute. Then I’m yours for the rest of the night.”
Sylvester gapes.
I get the full weight of my handsome protector’s gaze. Oof.
As Walt’s lips curl in a cocky grin, I realize I’ve probably said exactly the wrong thing.
Right thing? Wrong thing?
God. I’m so confused about how the man makes me feel.
“I’ll be right there.” Walt tips his chin toward our table. “If you need me just speak up.”
I try to smile, but my insides are twisted up in a knot. This is a terrible idea.
Sylverster’s slugging his drink down when I turn to him and say, “Your one minute timer is ticking.”
“You really want to fuck that piece of shit, Marianna?”
I’m not sure if my face is suddenly so hot from anger or embarrassment. “Keep your voice down, Sylvester.”
“When are you going to admit defeat?”
I nearly snap my teeth off. “Never. I will never give you or my father the satisfaction.”
He laughs darkly, his eyes going over my head toward Walt, who is waiting just a few paces away. “He makes a good guard dog, Marianna. I doubt he’s good for much more than that. Doesn’t seem to have a lot in the brains department. You’ll find out soon enough what it’s like to be with a real man.”
After squelching the vomit that he makes rise in my throat, I shake my head. “You’re so petty.”