Page 38 of Colt

I glanced over at Freya and froze when I saw our waiter leaning on the table, chatting to her. My chest caught alight when she laughed at something he said. “This is all I need,” I muttered, not just meaning our conversation.

“I’ll get to the bottom of it,” Shepherd promised. “You need to give me more time.”

My eyes stayed on the waiter flirting up a storm with Freya. My jaw clenched tight as I watched him write something on a piece of paper and slide it across the table toward her.

My heart burned with an emotion I couldn’t quite place and subconsciously didn’t want to. The fucker had some balls giving Freya his number when she was out with me.

“Need to go,” I replied, watching the waiter smile down at my princess before turning on his heel and returning to the kitchen. “Get diggin’. Need everything you’ve got asap.” I ignored his protestations and ended the call while glaring toward the kitchen.

That asshole waiter had tried to get my girl while she was on a goddamned date withme.My nostrils flared as I breathed through my nose to calm my shit, but it didn’t work.

I stalked through the restaurant, ignoring the looks the other diners shot me as I headed toward the kitchen. Fists balled up, jaw ticking. I probably looked like a crazy motherfucker.

Shoving the door to the kitchen open, I scanned the room. The chefs were cooking, calling out orders to each other as they put plates on the pass.

“Hey,” I called out. “I’m lookin’ for the waiter who serves table sixteen? Wanna give him a nice tip.”

“He’s out takin’ a break,” one of the workers shouted through the noise, nodding toward an open door at the back of the room.

“Obliged,” I replied, going over and slipping through the door into the fresh fall air.

I turned and spied the fucker standing over to my left, leaning back against the wall, blowing smoke rings into the air, eyes on his cell.

Without a word of warning, I marched toward him.

He jumped, turning his head, eyes widening as he saw the anger pounding from me. “Err, Sir. I don’t think you’re supposed to be back here—”

Letting out a low growl, I threw my fist into his face, not as hard as I could, but hard enough to show him I wasn’t a happy fuckin’ diner.

His head snapped back, and he let out a low moan, clutching his nose. “Hey. What the fu—”

“That’s for puttin’ your moves on, my girl,” I snarled. Grabbing my wallet, I pulled out some hundreds and threw them at him. “That’ll cover your medical bill, but here’s your tip. When a man’s out with his woman, giving her your phone number is a sign of disrespect. Get me?”

He stared up at me, eyes round with fright, and nodded furiously.

“Have a nice fuckin’ night.” I turned and sauntered back through the kitchen to the restaurant, hands still clenched to fists by my sides.

I knew I’d overreacted. Jesus, he just put the moves on Freya, like all men did when it came to a beautiful girl.

But it wasn’t just any beautiful girl; it was my girl, who I’d watched grow from a pretty teen to a unique, beautiful woman. It hit me that I didn’t want any fuckers’ hands on her but mine.

I just wanted to get her home and out of the sight of asshole men who thought it was okay to disrespect her and disrespect me.

Freya belonged to me now.

Chapter Eight

Freya

Two hours aftertheconversation, my stomach still fizzed and popped.

At last, Colt wanted me. Finally, we’d gotten somewhere, and I struggled to contain my excitement.

He’d gone to take a call, so, with shaky hands, I pulled my phone from my purse and messaged Abigail.

I knew I said I wouldn’t tell anyone, but there was no way I’d leave Abi in the dark.

I’d just put my cell away when Colt appeared at the table and downed the dregs of his drink. “Get your shit, now. We’re goin’”

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