Untamed (A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance)(108)

“Why?”

“So many girls just… I don’t even know how they get the photos they have of you.”

“They’re photos from my fights,” Duncan says. “Don’t worry, I haven’t been posing for private shoots in secret.”

“I should hope not.”

“Are you jealous?” he asks, teasing me.

“Wouldn’t it make you jealous?”

“If some guy had pictures of you topless, I’d kick his fucking ass.”

“Exactly.”

“And then have a conversation with you.”

“Ha. Don’t worry, I don’t take nude selfies and I never will.”

“You could for me.”

“Yeah… maybe not. I don’t want my photos to live forever in the ‘cloud’ or whatever.”

A loud shout pulls our attention forward, and we see a group of drunk boys walking toward us. They’re swearing and laughing, just having a good time, but Duncan’s grip on my hand tightens.

“Relax,” I say. “It’s a Friday night. You’re still on-edge after the fights.”

He sighs, eases the tension in his shoulders. “You never know, Dee.”

“I hardly think they’re goons my Dad sent. They look like they’re sixteen!”

The boys pass us by uneventfully, spitting out a stream of swear words but otherwise doing nothing much of anything at all.

“See? You need to relax, Duncan.”

“Trust me, I’m working on it. Hard habit to shake.”

“Did you get the uh, you know…?”

“I pick up the gun tomorrow,” he says.

“Will you be careful when you go?”

“It’s all done pretty sophisticatedly. I drop money in a postbox, wait for the postman who is not really a postman. He ‘collects the mail’, then as he climbs back into his truck he drops a parcel. I pick it up, chase after the truck for a bit, and that’s it.”

“That much of a show, huh? Couldn’t you just do it in a dark alley like most people do?”

“Fuck, this way I have deniability. I prefer it this way.”

“Did you thank Fletcher?”

“Of course.”

“Well, the next time you see him, thank him for me, too,” I say.

“Maybe we can all go on a double date sometime.”

He looks at me, and for a moment I think he’s serious but then I see that corner of his lip creep up.

“Yuck, never a double date.”

I hold onto his arm, and together we walk, and he’s lost in thought about something now, but I don’t know what.

A man stumbles out in front of us from around the corner. His eyes are glazed-over, and he almost falls forward toward us. His shoulder knocks mine, pulls a cry from my mouth.

“Watch where you’re going, bitch!” he slurs.

Duncan steadies me, holds me up, looks me in the eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I say. I turn and look at the drunk man still stumbling down the street. “Asshole.”

I take Duncan’s hand, squeeze it. I can see the expression on his face, and am desperately hoping he’s not going to go there.

“I’m okay, really,” I say. “He’s just a prick.”

But before I can stop him, Duncan’s fingers have left mine. He charges down the street, a whirlwind, each step thunderous, and grabs the man by his collar and yanks him into an alley.

“Wait!” I cry, walking after him, shaking my head. I come to the alley and see Duncan has the man pinned against the wall.

He leans forward, says into the man’s ear: “You just knocked into a pregnant woman.”

“Fuck off, cunt,” the man says, and I cover my mouth as Duncan winds up a punch and thumps him in the gut.

I rush forward, shouting “Stop!” and clawing at Duncan’s arms.

But he doesn’t let go of the man. He just keeps him pinned to the wall by the neck, and I swear he is actually growling, like some kind of feral beast.

I go to his side, try to pull his hand off the guy’s neck, but I simply don’t have enough strength.

“Duncan!” I cry, grabbing his face and wrenching it to the side so he faces me. His eyes are wide with a crazy anger. “Stop,” I say, and I stroke his face softly. “You’re overreacting. You’re too on-edge. You need to go home and sleep it off. You get like this after fights sometimes, remember? You’re punch-drunk.”

There’s a moment where he realizes it, seems to be in between two places, and then he lets the man go, his eyes lose their threat, and he’s finally not seeing red anymore.

“Are you okay,” I say to the man.

“Fuck off me!” he croaks, his voice a hoarse whisper. He rubs his neck.