“You best be turning around and walking out that door,” I tell the two men, not having any problem with making myself known. Not when Rosie asked me to keep her safe.
I’ll fucking watch over her until the day I die, if she wants me to.
“You backwoods svoloch’, you can’t tell me what to do. Victor,” the man tells the other guy, “go get Rosalind, smack that suka around and make her listen. I’ll take care of him.”
“Over my dead body,” I roar. “You need to go, now.”
Victor foolishly makes a run for the bathroom, where Rosie has locked herself in.
“Don’t you think about laying a finger on her,” I yell, grabbing Victor by the shoulders as he tries to barrel past me. I slam into him, but his brass knuckles crash against my jaw, drawing blood.
I’m not taking this fucker’s shit. Instead of grabbing my jaw, I fucking sock that bastard in the face, pulverizing him, as I pound him to the ground.
With one guy taken care of, I focus on the other man.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I tell him, pulling out my gun. “And get this fucker out of here too.
“You going to play dirty, is that it?” the man asks, reaching for his own gun.
“Don’t you even think about it,” I say, coming behind him, wrapping my arm around his throat in a chokehold and then removing his gun from its holster. “You need to back the fuck up,” I tell Victor, who tries to pull himself off the ground where I tossed him. He steps backwards, towards the door, knowing this is about to get fucking messy if he doesn’t leave. Now. I’m holding his buddy around the neck, with a gun pointed to him.
“You are going to leave this diner, pull your car out of this lot, and never come back, do you fucking understand me?” I tell him, not really asking a question.
The man trembles in my arms, literally crying as I tighten my hold.
“You understand?” I shout, as Victor nods, skittering out the door. Wanting to be sure they know I mean it, I grab him by the shoulder and throw him to the ground, too. Making sure his head hits first. There is something satisfying about that thunking sound of a skull hitting linoleum.
The men may be Russian gangsters but they don’t know how to fight a fucking mountain man.
“Now,” I shout, holding both guns in my hands, forcing them out the door. “You better not come after me or Rosie, understood?”
The men scramble toward their car, and peel away. Weak ass motherfuckers.
I lock the diner door, turn the sign to closed. In the safe beneath the register, I place the guy’s gun, and my gun, too. Then I flick off the lights and turn toward the bathroom. We don’t need any more interruptions.
I knock on the door. “You okay? You’re safe now, Rosie. They’re gone.”
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“I’m sure, darlin’, open the door and let me have a look at you.”
The doorknob turns, and I feel my cock twitch in anticipation. I want to see this woman’s face again. I need to see her face.
Rosie opens the door slowly and steps back until she is in the corner by the sink, trembling. Her eyes are rimmed in red and her heart is pounding – I know because I can see her pulse beat in her throat. Her chest heaves with every breath she takes as if the simple act requires concentration.
“Darlin’,” I say, stepping into the bathroom.
She is safe here with me.
She must know it, too, because I pull her in my arms, and she doesn’t pull away. Quite the opposite; she sinks into my chest as if I’m the one sure thing she can hold onto.
“Who were those men?”
She shakes her head, her face buried in my flannel shirt. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does if they want to hurt you.”
“Why do you care who hurts me, Buck?” she asks. “I’m just a girl. I know my worth.”
My jaw tenses and I wish I could drag those fuckers back here, smash their skulls together until they bleed across the linoleum floor. No one has a right to make a woman feel as if she’s worthless.
“Rosie,” I tell her, lifting her chin with my finger so I can see her gorgeous brown eyes. “You aren’t just anything.”
She shakes her head, not believing me. But her eyes are locked on mine, and that makes me think she wants to believe. Wants to feel like the angel she is. The fucking gift dropped into my day that I plan on unwrapping.
“Don’t shake your head at me, Rosie. I know you’re scared, so maybe we should get you back to wherever you live, get you off your feet. Help you into bed and make sure you feel safe.”
She shakes her head again.
“No, Buck. I’m working. I have to stay.”