Trouble(52)

Donnie lets out a laugh. He grabs a chair from the empty table by us and sits down, his front to its back.

On closer inspection, I spy a tattoo on Donnie’s neck. It says Fuck You.

Nice

“That’s no way to greet an old friend,” he says.

Jordan laughs a hollow sound. “That’s the last thing I’d ever refer to you as.”

“You’re breaking my heart here, Matthews.” Donnie slaps a hand over his chest before moving his gaze to me. “And who do we have here?”

The way he looks at me sets alarm bells ringing in my head. I’m familiar with the look. I’ve seen it before from Forbes.

I curl my fingers together in my lap.

“Don’t answer that.” My eyes shoot up to Jordan’s. He stares at me for a long second, trying to convey something in his eyes that I can’t quite grasp.

He turns his head to Donnie. “Don’t fuckin’ talk to her again, or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Donnie tilts his head to the side. “What ya gonna do, Jordan? Set your daddy on me?”

Jordan’s jaw sets rigid. “Your issue is with me,” he grinds out. “So say whatever the fuck it is you need to say, then fuck off back to your cave, you sorry piece of shit. Just leave her out of it.”

Donnie lets out another laugh. “Jeez! Easy now. You must actually like this chick. Never thought I’d see the day. Isn’t your motto ‘fuck ’em slow, leave ’em fast’? Gotta say though, can’t blame you with this one … she is fuck hot.”

“Like your girlfriend was,” Jordan bites out.

Donnie’s face goes hard like granite, and for a moment I think he’s going to hit Jordan.

Instead, his eyes slide back to me. He gives my body a full perverse perusal. It makes my stomach turn. “Bitch, when he’s done with you, you pay me a visit, and I’ll show you a good time.”

Jordan jerks out of his chair, causing it to bang to the floor, bringing mine, and every eye in this place, to him.

“I said, leave her the fuck out of it!” Jordan is bristling anger.

Donnie slowly gets to his feet, shifting his chair aside.

A glance to his friends tells me they’re standing too. The situation feels dangerous. My insides start to tremble with the possibility of what’s going to happen.

“Let’s go.” Jordan’s harsh voice comes my way as he jerks out a hand for me to take.

I look at Donnie who is staring hard at Jordan. I slip my hand into Jordan’s, allowing him to pull me to my feet.

The instant my skin makes contact with his, I feel the true level of Jordan’s anger. It’s rolling off him in waves and seeping straight into me.

Surprisingly, I don’t feel afraid. I don’t worry as to what will happen when we leave here, and I’m alone with him. What I actually feel right now is something I’ve never felt before.

I feel safe in his hands.

I know without a doubt that Jordan won’t hurt me. And I know unequivocally that he won’t let anything happen to me.

Jordan pulls on my hand, leading me through the coffee shop, away from Donnie, and toward the exit.

“How’s your dad doing nowadays?” Donnie calls out.

Jordan stops abruptly. I crash into his back. His hand tightens around mine gripping it to the point of almost pain.

“Heard he lost his badge. Real shame that, quality fuckin’ pig that he was.”

Jordan turns, putting me behind him.

Donnie and his buddies are in the middle of the coffee shop now. Only a few tables parting them from us. I can tell from their stances and body language that they are itching for a fight. And by the way Jordan is bristling beside me, it seems like he’s going to give them one.

“I bet you really wanna hit me right now, don’t ya?” Donnie smirks. “How does this sound – I’ll let you have the first hit. Just you and me, one on one. Whaddya say? Winner gets your girl.”

Donnie tilts his head my way, the look in his eyes repulsive.

He thinks he’s affecting me. He’s wrong. I was raised by worse. But he is affecting Jordan. I can feel how tightly wound he is.

Jordan pushes his hand into his jean pocket, then presses what feels like car keys into my palm.

I look up at him, confused.

“Go to my car,” he says with a low voice. “Get in and lock all the doors. If I’m not out in five minutes, drive straight back to Durango. Don’t go to the hotel. Go to the diner, to Beth.”

I curl my hand around the keys. “And then what?”

“And then…” He shakes his head slowly.

Self-preservation is telling me to do what he’s saying and leave this coffee shop, but I’ve never been very good at listening to my self-preservation.