Page 84 of Honeyed

As if he’s imagining something completely different than a documentary on a killer that gets me in front of a camera.

And then he’s touching me, his fingertips grazing down my face.

“You’ll never get away with this. We’ll never be pawns in this game.” But my voice is too shaky, and Mason cackles.

“Take your fucking hands off my wife.”

Warren’s growl is like nothing I’ve ever heard from him before.

“Well, well, well, the knight in shining armor comes to get his happily ever after once more.” Mason rolls his eyes for only me to see, but he doesn’t back away or remove his hand from my face.

“Baby …” I warn, trying to signal to Warren that this man is not in the right frame of mind.

Warren stalks forward, trying to make a move for me, but Mason tilts his body, getting between us. My husband looks feral, like he’ll kill him in two seconds flat, and I know I need to get someone else involved as soon as possible.

“If you don’t fucking move away from her right now, I’ll—”

Before I know what’s happening, Mason turns and jumps Warren. Tackles him straight to the ground, the two men flying through the air.

Mason isn’t bigger than Warren, not by a long shot, but he has surprise on his side because my husband is a good man, a trusting, kind soul who doesn’t see it coming when this vile person springs into action and topples him over.

Warren hits the ground with a thud, everything moving in slow motion and warp speed equally. Mason dives onto him, getting his hands on Warren’s throat before I know what’s happening. My husband’s arms flail, shock pinning his body down momentarily, and I leap into action.

“Get your hands off him! His life has nothing to do with yours!” I grab Mason’s elbow, hoping that somehow, he lets up on Warren’s windpipe.

That makes his grip slip, and Warren is able to land a punch to his ribs that has Mason staggering up and back. I almost have my hand extended to Warren, seeking to help him up so he can take on the madman that’s attacked us when a burning at the base of my scalp has me rearing back.

With a fist in my hair, Mason drags me back, and I let loose a bloodcurdling scream out of fear more than agony. Someone will hear us soon; a group or authorities will come around the corner any second. At least that’s what my delusional mind is telling me.

“Stupid bitch,” he growls before slamming my head back against the wall.

The pain that astounds me as my skull hits the bricks is the last thing I register before I fall into blackness.

35

WARREN

Of all the shit I’ve been through in my life, none of it scares me more than watching Alana’s eyes roll back in her head, and her body go limp.

Because when she does, I see my whole life flash before my eyes. My love for her, her smile, the future together, the babies we’d have, sitting on a porch holding her hand when we’re old and gray.

After Mason took me down, the wind was knocked out of me, so it takes me a few seconds to register how he just hurt her. But the second my limbs become aware, they move without permission. Toward him, the man who just hurt my wife. The person who let her crumple to the ground.

“You monster!” I shout, tackling him away from her as I swing blindly.

My fist connects with his jaw as we go down, his head thudding on the concrete. My vision blurs as I fall, and when I realize I’m on top of him and he’s not moving, I get up and immediately move to Alana.

“Baby? Baby?” I cup her face, trying to gently rouse her but terrified to move her even an inch.

A choked gasp comes from her, and then a groan. Looking over my shoulder, I see Mason is still out cold, and I know I need to get the cops down here this instant, but I won’t leave her.

“Al, wake up for me. Come on, baby, do it for me. Open your eyes.” I need her to open her eyes before my heart stops beating.

Because if I lose her, I lose everything.

“Warren …” Her voice is so weak and quiet, but it’s there.

“Baby, I love you. So much.” I nearly choke on the tears in my throat.

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