Autumn turns, shaking her head at me. “He’s not worth it. Let’s go. We can reschedule with Ryland.”
“We can’t,” I whisper urgently, thinking of the online chat. “I didn’t get his phone number. It was a miracle we are even in the same city as it is.”
That’s true. It’s a sign, I’m sure of it, that we’re supposed to be together. Of course, I’ve never been the superstitious type, so maybe that doesn’t make sense, but I can’t fight it. I can’t deny that’s the first thought I had when I learned how close we are.
Something brought us together, something more than the random nature of the online chat.
Maybe it was just us, our hunger, transmitting into the world.
Our hunger.
As if he feels the same.
“I’ve come too far,” I say, knowing I sound melodramatic but not giving a damn. “I can’t turn back now. We have to wait.”
“Only thing you’ll be waiting for is —.”
The man suddenly lurches, reaching into his jacket pocket.
Autumn screams and throws herself at me.
I catch her, both of us turning away as he aims it, whatever it is, in our direction.
Is it a gun?
He roars – no, laughs.
I blink and stare as he waggles a stick at us.
Autumn screams, charging toward him. “You fucking jerk. What the hell is the matter with you? Didn’t you ever stop to think people might have fucking phobias or PTS-fucking-D when it comes to guns?”
She’s getting too close, waving her hands in his face.
The man is staring ice-cold at her. He’s like a reptile, biding his time, waiting for his time to strike.
I move toward her, raising my voice. “Autumn, leave it alone. It’s not worth it.”
“Well?” Autumn hisses, ignoring me.
“Listen to your pig sister,” the man says, and I feel like I’ve been stabbed.
It’s always where they go, people who want to hurt me, the first thing they latch onto is my weight.
“Don’t you dare call her that.”
Autumn raises her hand. Suddenly I forget the insult, rushing at her, grabbing her wrist, and twirling. She comes with me, the momentum carrying her, and then I spin on the man.
It’s time I protected Autumn for a change.
But the man doesn’t care about how noble I want to be.
He rushes, stopping so close I can smell the whiskey, cigarettes, sweat, and the streets on him.
“What’s wrong, you oinking pig, you waste of breath? Maybe I’ll show you how it feels to be a woman. Perhaps I’ll introduce you to a real man. Would you squeal for me?”
I blink away tears, telling myself I don’t care about his vicious tone.
“Just leave us alone,” I murmur.
“Or what?” The man cackles. “I’m having fun now.”
“Or I’ll crack your goddamn skull open,” someone says.
We all spin toward the voice. A gasp escapes me as my eyes come to rest on him.
Ryland Ross is standing at the edge of our group, wearing faded blue jeans and a T-shirt that shows off his rippling muscles.
He looks even bigger in real life, towering over the scene, with his giant hands clenched into fists and his chest muscles bulging.
He takes a step forward, glaring at the man. A vein pulses in his temple. His jaw is tight. He looks like the most powerful man in the freaking world.
Despite everything, despite the fear still cloaking me, my body and my heart respond. My lust pulses and the future seems a little closer.
“Leave. Her. Alone.”
Ryland snarls as the man turns, and they stare at each other.
But I can’t stop looking at Ryland.
CHAPTER NINE
Ryland
The first thing I saw was my woman.
She’s wearing a yellow dress, long, the fabric mist-like as it shifts around her curvy body. She’s even sweeter in real life, with plump juicy tits, wide hips, and a light in her eyes….
It’s a light that makes my heart twinge, with the same intensity her body makes my manhood shiver.
I walked across the park, magnetized to her.
And then I heard this bastard call her names, names I can’t even think about unless I want to get arrested for assault. My fists are clenched harder than they were in any boxing match. I’m dimly aware of somebody off to the side, a skinnier woman, I’m guessing is Rachel’s sister.
But with this new threat, my priorities are clear. I need to protect my woman and keep her safe, above all else.
“Did I fucking stutter?” I growl, closing the distance between the man and me. “Leave her alone. That’s the last time I’ll say it.”
“It was merely a game,” the man mumbles, taking a shaky step back and raising his hands.
I must look how I feel, ready to erupt, volcanic down to the core.
“I’m a jester, that’s all. A joker.”
“Okay, joker,” I snarl. “Then get the fuck out of here. You don’t bother this – these women, ever.”
I include her sister at the last minute. Rachel’s going to be my wife one day, the mother to my children.