Page 19 of Rebel
“All safe, you can leave.”
“Open the door, go inside, then I’ll leave.”
“I can take care of myself.”
He folds his arms. Damn, I can’t help the need that grows inside of me every time he is near. I want to argue with him or myself. Both of us need a stern talking to.
“Oh wait, except when the asshole getting in my face pulls a gun.”
“You pulled your mace first.”
“I’m a woman, alone, and you grabbed me.”
“You were sneaking around in the dark. I thought you were someone else.”
Well, that is new information. Who did he think I was? It explains why he lunged at me and why he pulled the gun.
“Go inside and lock your damn door.”
Here behind the wall, the noise from the bar and the street is dulled, and the church is quiet. No one knows we’re back here.
There is more to this than he is letting on. Something has him worried, more than the idiot at the bar.
Both Raven and Marisol have said the MC keeps their business close to their chests, I will not get anything out of him, but I want to know if whatever he is shielding me from is going to hurt Colt and the church.
“Go,” he says, moving closer still.
He smells of leather and wood smoke. It’s a heady, intoxicating combination. Maybe I’ve had too much to drink.
“I was handling it, you know.”
He stares, but something in his features softens. “Asking him to apologize was pointless.”
“Men like him need to be told when they’re in the wrong.”
“You think he would have walked away after apologizing and never been a prick to a woman again?”
“Of course not. Men like that can’t change.”
“Then what good does antagonizing him do?”
“If every woman sits back and takes it, we might as well give up altogether. I will always be the voice that stands up to dickheads like that.”
“No matter the consequences.”
“I’m not an idiot, I wouldn’t do it alone in an alleyway with a strange man…” I trail off, looking into his face.
We’re alone where no one can see us, in an alleyway of sorts. I’m not afraid of him. Not even after what happened when we met.
He frowns, realizing what I’m thinking. His expression mellows for about a tenth of a second, then he shakes his head as if he is exasperated.
“Go inside.” When he moves toward me, I stand my ground. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Did we not just establish I don’t like being pushed around by men?”
“Believe me, little villain, if I wanted to push you around, I’m pretty sure you’d like it.”
“So full of yourself. I don’t know what any woman sees in you,” I mutter.
