Page 10 of Hold the Line

Chuffing, he put his coffee down. “When I moved here, all the guys told me about this cute girl who baked like an angel. I tell you what, I got a look at you, expected something better, but your coffee and baking didn’t let me down. Tommy, on the other hand? That boy’s downright smitten. You’re telling me you can’t make an exception for him?”

“I explained that’s not an option.” I started to round the counter, intent on opening the door for him, but he moved when I did, blocking my path. I wasn’t panicking yet, but my heart was in my throat, fluttering wildly. “You need to leave right now.”

He loomed over me, dark eyes like a rake as they moved over my body. “Don’t think so, darlin’. Not until we reach an understanding.”

Gathering all my bravery, I lifted my chin and stood firm. “There won’t be an understanding. Get out of my shop.”

Quicker than lightning, he snatched my wrist and yanked me into him, knocking my breath out of me. “Not happening, ya cunt.”

Now, I was panicking.

Chapter Six

Deacon

Therewasnoreasonfor me to be walking along this end of Main Street other than curiosity. I’d driven by Sugar Rush a few times on my way to work, but I hadn’t gotten a good look.

That was all I wanted: one good look.

My newfound freedom meant I could sate my curiosity whenever I wanted, and I rarely restrained myself. If I wanted to peek at Phoebe Kelly’s bakery, that’s what I’d do.

The first pass showed the bakery empty save for Phoebe and a man at the counter. He was paying for his coffee, nothing unusual or suspicious, yet my hackles rose the moment I spotted him.

None of my business.

I didn’t go looking for trouble anymore. In fact, I stayed as far from it as possible. Going back to prison wasn’t an option.

Forcing my feet forward, I made it half a block before turning back. Trust didn’t come easy to me these days. A rough childhood had wrung most of it out of me, and four years behind bars had taken the rest. Made me suspicious of every shadow and wary of the intentions of strangers—I’d heard enough from other inmates to give me every reason.

I’d been hoping it was just my paranoia, but the sight through the shop window made my blood run cold. Phoebe was pinned against the counter, her wrist trapped in the man’s grip. Even from the outside looking in, it was plain to see she didn’t want this guy anywhere near her, let alone touching her.

Instinct took over. Yanking open the door, I crossed the room in a few long strides, grabbed the back of his jacket, and hauled him off her with a guttural growl.

Taken by surprise, he went down easy, ass on the floor in a flash. Phoebe’s whimper struck me deep in the gut, but I didn’t dare look at her. If she was hurt, if he’d done something unforgivable…nah, I couldn’t go there.

I planted myself in front of her, blocking his view. “You put your hands on her?”

The guy scrambled to his feet, glaring. “What’s it to you, dickhead?”

“You don’t put your hands on a woman.” My fists were tight at my sides. It’d been a long time since I’d used them, but I was ready for him.

“We were havin’ a chat, brother. A private conversation.” He sneered, peeling his coffee-soaked shirt away from his chest. “Don’t appreciate you spilling my drink.”

Sliding my eyes to the side, I addressed Phoebe. “You want to talk to him?”

“I don’t,” she stated, her voice firm.

“You heard her. Get out,” I said evenly.

He didn’t move.

I knew guys like this one. Bigger than he had any business being, eyes conveying how dirty and mean he was inside. He was taller and heavier than me, probably crazier too. He wouldn’t like that I’d taken him down, and I could already tell he wasn’t going to let it go.

“Not finished here.”

His body tensed, his stance shifting. I recognized the tell a second before he charged and caught him around the neck, locking his big head under my arm. He flailed, getting some jabs in that’d surely smart later, but I wasn’t feeling them much at the moment.

Our legs got tangled in all his chaos, sending us both tumbling. He landed with a thud, and I rolled over him, his shirt tight in my grip, my knees pinning his arms down. He bucked under me like a wild bronco, trying his mightiest to get me off.

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