Page 11 of Entranced in the Mountains
His smile twists into something meaner. “Maybe you just need a man to?—”
I slap him across the face. Hard.
The crack echoes off the tiled walls.
“Help!” I scream as loud as I can. “Help!”
His head snapped sideways from the slap and when he turns back, his eyes are darker and meaner.
“You’re going to regret that,” he hisses.
I wince and close my eyes as he raises his arm to slap me.
But the hit never comes.
The door bursts open and a bigger hand catches his wrist midair.
I gasp.
The Sheriff.
He looks even larger up close. Even with everything happening, that’s the first thought that goes through my head.
I swallow hard as I stare up at his broad muscular frame towering over me and Cooter. His uniform is strained tight across his massive imposing chest. The tight sleeves are gripping his jacked arms as he squeezes Cooter’s wrist like a vice. He looks so dominant. So in control. There’s not an ounce of fear in those sexy brown eyes.
“You were about to hit her?” His voice is a low growl, dangerous and cold.
Cooter screams as the Sheriff adds some pressure. His knees buckle, but the Sheriff doesn’t let go. “I wasn’t!” Cooter stammers. “I swear!”
The Sheriff wraps his free hand around Cooter’s neck and slams him into the tiled wall so hard the paper towel dispenser rattles. “Don’t lie to me,” he growls in his face. “I know men like you. Men who think they can take an angel like her and do whatever evil shit they want.”
Cooter’s eyes bulge as the Sheriff squeezes his neck harder.
“Not in my town,” the Sheriff hisses. “Not with my girl.”
My cheeks bloom with heat when I hear him calling mehis girl. That can’t be what he meant. Can it?
“If I ever see you in the Greene Mountains again,” he continues. “If you ever so much aslookat that angel again…” His jaw clenches as the image runs through his mind.
“Watch out!” I screech when I spot Cooter’s hand sliding into his pocket. He pulls out a pocket knife, but the Sheriff handles it easily. He slaps it away and then knees Cooter in the stomach so hard the creep bends in two. The Sheriff kicks the knife away and it slides under the bathroom stall.
“You’re under arrest, you fucking prick,” he says as he lifts him up, spins him around, and pins his cheek to the wall. He does it so easily. Like Cooter is a child.
“That bitch slapped me,” Cooter grunts as his cheek is being pressed against the tiles by the Sheriff’s thick forearm.
“Call her a bitch again,” the Sheriff growls as he adds some pressure. “I fucking dare you too.”
Maybe Cooter is not as dumb as he looks because he stays silent.
“You’re lucky all you’re getting is cuffs,” the Sheriff says as he yanks Cooter’s arm behind him with one fluid motion. The metallic click of handcuffs is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
“Emmanuel,” the Sheriff says into the radio on his shoulder. “Got a carnie in custody in the women’s bathroom in the Town Hall. Come get him.”
Static crackles, then Emmanuel’s voice: “On my way.”
Cooter squirms and curses a string of expletives, but the Sheriff stays calm and in complete control. His hand stays wrapped around the redneck’s arm like concrete.
My heart is pounding when we make eye contact again, but I’m not sure if it was from the close call or from something else.
