Page 7 of A Touch of Brimstone

“Were.”

“Were. But you’re no longer friends because of me,” he started out slowly. Emoni had stopped fiddling with the microphone to give him a narrow-eyed look. It eased slightly when I smiled in her direction. Her brow rose in response, a nonverbal inquiry to ask if I was sure. At my slight nod, she returned to adjusting her microphone and preparing for her set.

“She really hates me, doesn’t she?” he asked.

“Hate is being kind. You have no idea what she wanted to do to your man chops.”

He frowned, took another sip from his glass. “As I was saying, you were friends and the situation with her—”

“The ‘situation’ being you cheating on me with her,” I corrected again. He didn’t get to minimize the situation.

“Cheating or whatever. We all used to hang out and have a good time. I don’t see why it can’t be like that again. But more involved than before.”

I choked on my drink once I realized what he was insinuating. This jackass thought his cheating should be rewarded with a what? Three-way? Throuple? “Hey, I can’t keep it in my pants so let me have both of you.” I had no idea if he’d discussed this with Ava or if he thought that if I was on board, it would be easier to persuade her. “I’m a good guy. I think it’s selfish of you to not want to share.”

My head nodded as I took things in. He took it as consideration. This was beyond appalling. He wasn’t suggesting it as a lifestyle he wanted to explore but because he didn’t want to be accountable for anything. I wasn’t convinced he could be faithful even then. His arrogance and entitlement were boundless.

“I’ve never been in a bar fight before,” I informed him. “To be more precise—a fight. Period.”

His brow furrowed in confusion.

“I plan to change that stat if you don’t get the hell away from me. First, I’m going to throw my drink in your face. Then I’m going knee you in your giblets. While you’re whining about your throbbing crotch, I’m going to punch you in the face. Take this as your one and only warning.”

Rage was rising in me at a pace that I couldn’t control.

Deep breaths. No violence. You’re here for your friend. But I wanted violence. I wanted to act on my threat.

I had to remove myself from the situation. I wouldn’t ruin Emoni’s show. “Stay away from me,” I demanded and moved to the other side of the bar. I was farther from the band but Jackson was no longer in view. Within a half hour, the number of people in the bar had doubled. It was full but not packed and every so often, I’d look in the direction I’d left Jackson to make sure he was staying on his side of the bar.

Through the crowd, I got a glimpse of his slow migration toward me. As he lingered in one spot, the low lights in the room hit his frown of consideration. I hoped he would reconsider and turn around. He didn’t and weaved through the crowd toward me.

I looked away, hoping he got the message. Drawing my attention from Jackson was the warm body that sidled up next to me. My eyes lifted to catch the stranger’s eyes before his gaze moved to my approaching ex, whose attention had drifted from me to the stranger. A smirk lifted Jackson’s lips while his eyes narrowed. He rounded his shoulders in a show of defiance and raw aggression.

“Go away.” The man from the coffee shop’s deep-edged voice hinted at something ominous. His command earned him a look of shock and irritation from Jackson.

“What did you say?” Jackson ground out through clenched teeth after the shock wore off.

The man stepped in front of my ex. The stranger’s imposing presence overwhelmed the area. Jackson put noticeable effort into maintaining his composure and insolence. But the hubris remained; he had tons to spare.

“Believe me, you don’t want me to repeat myself,” the stranger told him. His breezy tone sounded menacing. With a viper’s strike of movement, precise and swift, he was behind Jackson, giving me an unobstructed view of his hand as it wrapped around Jackson’s throat. Jackson’s face blanched and he managed to let out one strangled gasp before his words were cut off. Mr. Ominous whispered something in Jackson’s ear.

I should do something. Scream. When you witness an assault, you do something.

The stranger released Jackson. Jackson shuffled back, glaring at the man, then he sneered at me before backing away. Leaving his drink on the bar’s counter, he headed for the exit.

The stranger’s amber eyes showed an unsettling level of indifference for someone who’d just wrapped his hand around someone else’s throat. He eased closer to me, leaving just a few inches. The light cascaded over the sharp angles of his jaw and cheek, over the bridge of his nose and the outline of his full lips. Looking into his intense eyes was like staring into a fiery abyss. His presence: coiled violence. If I’d seen someone who emanated such intensity and bound danger, I’d cross the street to avoid them. Here in the crowded bar, I was in his crosshairs. Steely curious eyes regarded me with interest.

My side eye wasn’t as inconspicuous as I thought.

“You wanted him to leave.” He said it so matter-of-factly, I choked out an inappropriate scoff of laughter.

Fully aware of his lethality, I took several steps away from him. He inched forward. I inched away. He stopped, giving me space, a bemused gentleness moving over his features. It was disarming but not enough to keep me from being guarded. If necessary, I’d redirect the course of action to him that I’d planned for Jackson.

“Yeah. But I tend to just ask. I guess choking a person out is an option, too.” I smiled. I thought he’d mirror it. Isn’t that what normal people do?

“Give me your name,” he ordered.

I hadn’t seen him move, but the new distance between us was noticeable. Stifling the air around us, his all-consuming presence made the people surrounding us seem miniscule.

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