Page 28 of Dirty Saint
"Gavin, stop!" I grit out as I push his hand away.
"We were so good together, Willow. Why are you fighting it?" Gavin declares.
"Seriously, what are you on?" I ask with complete sincerity because this makes no sense to me.
"What kind of question is that?" he asks, taking a sip of his beer.
"We were together in high school. What makes you think me contacting you has anything to do with being together?" I ask incredulously.
"You fuck the all-mighty Ares?" Gavin's growls.
"Oh my God," I say, raising my voice and stand abruptly moving around the opposite end of the table, glad my purse is across my body. The rest of the room is silent as I make my way out of the bar. I'm not lucky enough because Gavin is hot on my heels.
I reach my car and have just clicked the key fob when he grabs me from behind and grits in my ear, "stop being a bitch!"
I shove back with my elbow, and he grunts. I move to open the door, but he spins me around, gripping both my arms painfully, and pushes me against the car. He is inches away from my face. I don't have much room, but I manage to kick him in the shin.
He winces and moves back a bit but does not release me.
"Let me go," I shout.
"Fine, you don't have to be a bitch," Gavin removes his hands but only moves back enough, so he's not standing so close to me. I'm panting with anger. I'm about to turn to get into my car when what he says next stops me cold.
"I have plans for that bastard of a boyfriend of yours." Gavin's expression is menacing.
I understand now that Gavin hurt QB, and I don’t hesitate to throw it in his face, “you attacked QB. Do you even care he could have died?" I spit out.
It happens so fast I don't have time to prepare. Gavin punches me in the face, and my upper cheek and eye are throbbing with pain. The punch knocks me sideways, and I lose my balance and land in the gravel. My hands sting from the fall. He leans over and drags me back up, grabbing me around my hips and hauling me over his shoulder. I'm momentarily dizzy and have to fight nausea that creeps up my throat.
Gavin grits out, “Fuck the Grim Saints, they all need to die!”
He takes me to his blue pick-up truck and finagles me around as he opens the cab door. When he tosses me in, I kick out with my feet and get him in the stomach.
Gavin topples backward and loses his footing, and I'm able to jump out of the truck, but before I can run, he grabs my ankle, and I fall forward. I scream, feeling the pain from the gravel. I try to get to my knees, but Gavin roughly turns me on my back. He is hovering over me, his knee between my legs, his forearm across my chest, pinning me down.
"Stop struggling, you whore," I feel the spit slide down my chin.
"Fuck you," I yell into his face.
I'm vaguely aware that no one in the bar has come out, and the last thing I remember is a sharp pain by my temple.