Page 44 of Breaking Bristol
“I’m leaving. Bristol, babe, let’s go. Paris, you too. I’ll give you a ride.”
“My car’s here. I’m all right. Thanks, though.”
“We’ll take you to your car, then.” Bristol wound their arms together and gave a small but determined tug toward me.
Paris nodded. “Yeah, okay. Fine.”
As they walked past me, Bristol whispered, “Should you call Grayson?”
“No. No cops.” Paris shook her head. “I’ll be all right. I don’t want anyone else to know… I just want to go home.”
“This guy know where you live?” I asked, steering us down the hall to the back entrance.
“No.”
When we got outside, Paris led us toward her car. The lot was empty, and the only sounds were our shoes on the concrete, but as we got closer, a man appeared out of the shadows. Her gasp told me exactly who he was. I pushed both of the girls behind me. “Walk away, man.”
“Mind your own business. This is between me and her.”
“Not anymore.”
He came toward us, and I quickly assessed him. He was tall but overweight, and by how he moved, I knew he’d topple over with one punch. “Outta my way, asshole. I’ve got unfinished business with this cocktease.”
I took a step toward him and put my hand out. “You need to turn around, get in your truck, and go home, then forget you ever met her.” He ignored my warning, and as soon as his chest grazed my hand, I grabbed his ratty leather jacket and walked him backward. “I’m not gonna tell you again.”
“Fuck you.”
“Which truck is his?” I asked, not wanting to say Paris’s name in case she never gave it to him.
“The gold one on your left.”
He fought me, and I released him long enough to bounce him against his truck. “Go.”
“Not until I get what she promised me,” he snarled.
“I never promised you shit, you asshole!”
“Hey, shh.” Bristol calmed Paris down. “Don’t egg him on.”
And then I saw it. The shift in his eyes when he found a new target, his lip curled as he grunted. “You wanna take her place, baby? I’ll—”
I punched him in his gut so fast he didn’t know what hit him, then brought him to the ground where I stepped on his throat, and an unwanted, unexpected nightmare of a vision that I wasn’t prepared for flashed before my eyes.
Gage was lying there, head cracked open, blood flowing out of his mouth and ears like a river.
I blanked. Time froze as I stared, horrified, as this piece of shit lurched back to his feet while mine molded to the ground.
I was paralyzed. If I touched him again, I’d kill him. But I couldn’t do that again. I wasn’t strong enough to carry that load as it was. This man was clearly a weak bastard, and as much as I wanted to make him regret saying that shit about Bristol, I didn’t want his blood on my already dirty hands.
He lunged, and when the women both screamed, I snapped out of it and grabbed him by the back of his jacket just before he reached them, then put him back on the ground with ease. He needed to be out of arm’s reach because if he was close enough to hit, I don’t think I’d have been able to stop.
“Stop moving,” I warned.
“Let me go, man. Fuck!” He grabbed my leg, and I dug my boot in more, but when he started choking, I let up.
I looked behind me and lifted my chin at Paris. “Go home. I got him.”
“But—”