Page 61 of Reclaiming Izabel

I stood speechless.

Kyle ended up on the floor, a pile of groaning pain.

Snapped out of my trance, I screamed, “Stop!”

Drake hauled Kyle to his feet, fisted him by the collar, and snarled, “Stay away from her, or I swear to God, if I find you anywhere near her again…I. Will. End. You.”

Kyle chuckled derisively. “Go ahead. Beat me up. Show Izzy what a savage you are.”

“Drake, enough. Please?” I walked over to him now and laid a pleading hand on his arm. Hard muscles bunched up with tension beneath my palm.

“What the fuck?” Marcus growled, stalking into the room.

Stalking, it seemed, was common as testosterone levels clotted the air I was breathing, but I dared not leave the room for a single second.

“Let him, go, Maddox. What the fuck?” Marcus repeated, standing beside the fused men like a referee in a match.

Drake finally released Kyle, who tried to maintain his dignity by huffing and straightening his collar.

“Mr. Collins, can I ask you to return to your office?” Marcus asked.

Kyle tried to look around Drake, but the brick wall that was my husband blocked his view. “I’d take Marcus’s advice if I were you.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“You bet the fuck I am.”

“Goddammit, Lieutenant. Stand down.”

I touched Drake’s torso, and his arms instantly wrapped around me in a show of possession. If the situation wasn’t so volatile right now, I’d give my husband a piece of my mind, but it was like placating a wild animal.

Kyle winced at our united front.

I cleared my throat. “Please, Kyle.”

Kyle’s gaze softened when it landed on me.

My husband tensed.

“Mr. Collins,” Marcus repeated in a much harsher tone.

“This isn’t over…” Kyle said in parting. I knew what he was doing. It was reckless the way he wanted to prove that Drake was a violent man who would hurt me.

“You son of a bitch…” Drake growled and lunged forward.

Thankfully, Marcus and I held him back, giving Cindy a chance to drag Kyle out the door.

“Dammit, Maddox. Do you know he could press charges?”

“He had his fucking hands all over my wife!”

“Kyle was out of line,” I said. “But did you have to beat him up?”

Drake’s nostrils flared, his eyes flinty with controlled rage. “Yeah. I did.”

Marcus touched his earpiece and listened. “I’ll be right there,” he spoke into the mic clipped to his suit. “Mr. Bose wants to see me.” He glared at Drake. “Try not to cause any more trouble.”

When Marcus left, Drake closed the door and locked it. I watched him warily. He was still vibrating with aggression.

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