Page 3 of Right With You
“No.Youcan’t. You won’t.”
Jean-Luc.
Holy crap, that was his murderous growl as he shoved Callum away from me and prowled after him. The normally quiet patron of my donut shop, and friend of my friends, wedged his forearm under Callum’s chin, pressing onto his neck and pinning him against the other side of the small alley.
“You will not touch her again.”
Callum cowered, but managed to spit out, “Who… who the hell are you?”
“Her boyfriend.”
Her… boyfriend?
My boyfriend?
Um, wait. What?
Before I could process this fantastical announcement, Callum sputtered an expletive and made to move forward.
Jean-Luc simply leaned in, cutting off the air enough to silence him.
“Touch her again and I end you. That simple. You understand, or do I need to explain it?”
Forget about the “her boyfriend” thing for a second. How had I forgotten this man was a former special operations soldier in the Army, just like most of the staff at Saint Security? He was deadly and skilled and trained to do all manner of things I knew nothing about. That wasn’t make-believe storytelling, but a truth that only just now felt real.
Callum shook his head, apparently understanding his predicament more clearly.
“Good. Touch her”—he notched his head toward the side in gesture to me—“and you die. Easy.”
Wow, not just super soldier vibes, but even I could believe he was defending the spurned honor of his woman.
Completely swoon-worthy if not for the bit where I was, supposedly, the woman in question.
He pushed off Callum who instantly spat at Jean-Luc’s feet and sent me a furious look before stalking away, hollering “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!” as he went.
Jean-Luc turned to me, unperturbed by Callum’s threat, the fury melting into something I could’ve sworn looked like panic. He reached up and I flinched, the reaction an unfortunate byproduct of what had just happened. The adrenaline cranking through me couldn’t discern between the man who’d just stormed off—who was a genuine threat to me—and this one, who seemed to be intent on making sure my ex didn’t hurt me again.
But it was over. Callum was gone. All thanks to Jean-Luc.
A flood of overwhelm washed over me, and I shuddered, eyes glazing with tears.
He held up both hands, gorgeous face masked in concern. “Elise, are you okay?”
CHAPTERTWO
Luc
She shook with adrenaline. Maybe fear, too. I couldn’t blame her. The ex was a slimy littleconnard, but he was a fairly big man. Not quite my height, but maybe just under six feet, and considerably bulkier than me.
And, fool that I was, I’d just frightened her. Not only by attacking her ex, even if he was a scumbag, but then apparently making her fearful I’d hurt her. And why should she trust me? She didn’t know me and couldn’t possibly understand I would never, ever hurt her. If she’d been with that jackass for any length of time, she’d learned to expect violence when he was unhappy or at least suffering from an ill temper.
I knew the kind of man who’d just walked away—they didn’t step back until they understood they didn’t have access to what they imagined belonged to them. A show of force and a verbal claiming would do the trick, or so I hoped.
Elise was safe.
I’d been working in Europe on and off since starting at Saint when it opened, but after my maternal grandmother passed, I’d come back for the funeral and ended up staying stateside.
I’d noticed Elise from the start. Sometimes, I only caught glimpses. Other times, I got to witness her laughing and talking with Nikki and Jo and Winnie, my friends’ partners, and Jess, our colleague.
