Page 22 of Direct Action

Sigh.

Now I was standing next to the mangled front end of my baby, trying to figure out this dumb insurance app while traffic was crawling around the accident.

That’s when my shitty day took a turn for the worse.

“You rear-ended me!” the aforementioned jacknut yelled in my face.

Breathe.

“Are you fucking stupid, or are you one of those stupid bitches who think they can use the rearview mirror as a makeup—”

I tried. I really did. Maybe it was him calling me stupid or a bitch or maybe it was that I could take no more, but I snapped. Between the options available to me—karate chop him in his throat to shut him up or dish it back verbally—I chose the one that wouldn’t land me in jail. Because I didn’t think I could hack county lockup.

“Listen up, you jerk! You pulled out in front of me. So it should be me asking you if you’re fucking stupid or if you’re just one of those dudes who thinks they can pull out into traffic and hope for the best.” I leaned in deep and screeched, “Blinkers were invented for a reason, asshole.”

The man stepped closer, and really he was huge, so maybe name-calling wasn’t the best choice.

Like I said, I tried to be nice, but sometimes my mouth got the best of me.

“Step back.”

That directive didn’t come from me.

No, now my day had gone from shitty to worse to the absolute worst.

Mr. Jacknut looked over my shoulder, his eyes flared, then he proceeded to prove not only was he an asshole, but he had a death wish.

“Is this your bitch?”

“Step. The. Fuck. Back.”

After that I found myself manhandled behind Ryan, making his demand moot since Mr. Jacknut was no longer in my face but instead nose-to-nose with a very pissed-off Ryan.

“Step back. Your bitch rear-ended me!”

Ryan moved so fast, I couldn’t be sure exactly how it happened. One second I was staring at his black tee up close and personal, the next he was three feet away from me with Mr. Jacknut pinned against my Mustang.

“Watch your mouth,” Ryan growled.

The timing was wholly inappropriate, but it couldn’t be denied the grit coupled with the ferocity in his tone had me fighting back a shiver.

“Is there a problem here?” I turned to see a police officer making her way toward the men.

Mr. Jacknut glanced at the officer with a dismissive look I’d venture to say she didn’t miss. “Yeah, there’s a problem. This asshole. And that-that—”

“What’d I say?” Ryan cut him off, giving me the opportunity to explain without blood being drawn.

Not that I wouldn’t mind Ryan popping the asshole in the face.

What? I said I tried to be a nice person. Not that I was one.

“This guy pulled out of the Pelican.” I pointed to the restaurant we were stopped in front of. “Right in front of me, and I rear-ended him,” I admitted. “But, again, he just pulled out in front of me. Then he went on to call me stupid for hitting him, when he pulled out in front of me.”

When I finished my rant, the officer asked—but really it was more of a statement than an actual question—“Sir, can you please step away.”

Ryan instantly complied. Which I thought was a display of respect and control. Unfortunately, thinking on that meant I wasn’t paying attention to the direction he was moving until it was too late.

Really too late.