Page 66 of Mountain Hero

“Sounds like a plan.”

But we’re halfway to the church when I spot a familiar face; one I’m definitely not happy to see. One I hoped never to see again.

My heart stutters, and I almost trip over my own feet. A band tightens around my chest. The happy mood I’ve had is doused instantly, replaced by a chilling fear.

“Winter?” Enzo moves in front of me, his features tightening with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m seeing things as some sort of post-traumatic stress symptom.

But then again, it’s not Thomas. It’s his awful friend, Bryan.

Bryan, who used to come over to Thomas’s house to smoke weed and play video games and occasionally throw empty beer cans at me while I was working in the kitchen.

Slimy Bryan, whose hand would sometimes graze my ass as he walked by, but never did more than that.

Terrible Bryan, who I’m pretty sure knew what was going on, but there wasn’t any evidence to arrest him as an accomplice.

Why did I think I wouldn’t see any of Thomas’s friends in town?

“Winter?” Not just concerned, but obviously worried, Enzo touches my chin and raises my gaze to his. “Hun. What’s wrong? Can you tell me?”

Crap. I’m stronger than this. I’m not going to let the memories get to me. Not now. Not here.

“Bryan.” Swallowing hard, I force my voice to stay steady. “One of Thomas’s friends. Over at the jerky booth; the one with red hair and the plaid, flannel shirt.”

Enzo stiffens. His gaze shoots over to Bryan, and his jaw turns to stone. He gathers me close and asks in a carefully controlled tone, “Did he hurt you? Touch you? Did he know?”

“He didn’t hurt me.” A beat, and I amend, “Well. He used to throw beer cans at me. But they were empty. And sometimes he’d touch my ass. But?—”

“What?” The controlled tone turns dangerous. Fury ignites in his eyes.

Now I’m wishing I hadn’t said anything. It’s not like Bryan would have tried anything, not with Enzo right beside me. And there’s no reason for Bryan to mess with me now…

“Come on.” Enzo tucks me into his side and walks us briskly over toward Max’s table, about twenty feet away from us.

“What are you doing?”

A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Dealing with this.”

Once we reach Max, Enzo deposits me next to him. To Max, he says through a gritted jaw, “Winter spotted one of Thomas’s friends. I’d like to have a word with him. Can you watch Winter until I get back?”

“Enzo,” I start. “I don’t want you to get?—”

“It’s fine, hun.” Voice gentling, Enzo cups my cheek as he looks at me. “I’m going to talk to him. That’s all. I’ll be right back. Will you just stay with Max?”

“Yes…”

“Trust me, okay?”

I don’t like the idea of him getting pulled into my crap with Thomas again, but I do trust Enzo, so I give him a little nod. “I do. I’ll stay here.”

After a quick kiss, Enzo takes off—not at a run, but definitely faster than a walk. It’s a powerful stride, full of intention, and he practically vibrates with intensity. As I follow Enzo’s path, I notice as several people glance at him and quickly change direction.

This is Green Beret Enzo. The one who spent twenty years in the Army. The one who won’t let anyone or anything intimidate him.

He reaches Bryan in less than thirty seconds, and not-so-gently taps him on the shoulder. I can’t see their expressions from here, but as Bryan turns around and sees Enzo, his posture sags, and his shoulders hunch in protectively.

But Enzo doesn’t hurt Bryan. In fact, aside from the first contact, he doesn’t touch him again. But as the conversation—well, it looks more one-sided than that, with Enzo talking and Bryan silently nodding—progresses, Bryan shrinks into himself even further.

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