Page 2 of Little Dove

“Oh, well, you’re just the buzz of the town, Marri,” he replies, purposely using the nickname that makes me want to vomit. By sheer will and a decade of practice, I manage to keep my expression blank and the bile down. His eyes are cold and filled with malice as he gets to his feet. “People are saying that you slept with not only Charlie Wilson, but also his boy, Nicholas. Of course, when I first heard that, I thought, no, not our Marri. Surely, she’s learned her lesson from last time. But you know what they say, a leopard doesn’t change its spots, so why wouldn’t a woman who did the same thing over a decade ago not do it again? Or did you think we wouldn’t remember?”

He takes a step toward me, but I stand my ground. Instead, I wrap my hand around the scissors I just set on the counter and say calmly, “You and the rest of this town have the same long memory, Ezra. Just like you also know that these new rumors are nothing more than a distraction to keep the truth from getting out.”

His face twists with anger as he takes another step forward, fisting his hands. “What I don’t understand is why you act all self-righteous around me. You give it away to a married man and his son, but you look at me like I’m shit on your shoe. You’re nothing, Marri. You will remain the unwanted gutter trash that you are.” Then he lashes out and grabs me by the wrist, yanking me forward. I don’t struggle, but I twist the scissors in my hand, ready to strike. “Maybe it’s time I see just what my half-brother and uncle got a taste of, huh?” His grip tightens, and he pulls me closer.

I’m ready to pull my hand up when the bell rings and the shop door opens. I have never been so happy to hear that sound.

“Release her,” a deep, thickly accented Italian voice orders, its force compelling enough that Ezra immediately lets me go.

He spins around with that practiced smile on his face once more. “Hey there,” he says, but then he stills and his smile falters as he takes in the newcomer.

I move around Ezra to get a look at him, but damn, I definitely didn’t have to. The man is a giant. At least six-seven, he barely fits inside the shop. And not only is he tall, but he’s pure muscle. I’m surprised he’s able to wear such a nice suit, because one wrong move might make it explode at the seams. All of that is background noise though, because this man oozes danger, and he has his sights set on Ezra.

Looks like Lazaro Cattaneo, my final appointment for the day, has arrived just in the nick of time. Damn, who knew my guardian angel would come in the form of a giant? Maybe God has a sense of humor, after all.

“Mr. Cattaneo,” I rush to say, deftly tucking my scissors into my pocket. “I’ll be with you in a moment. I just need to get Mr. Boyd checked out.”

His dark eyes shift to me, softening slightly as they take me in. Whoa. Those babies are potent. It’s the kind of look thatconsumes you completely, and I can only hope he can’t see—or hear—the way my heart races. “Of course,” he says smoothly, stepping further into the shop and moving toward the chair I’ve set near the front for customers to wait in. But I don’t miss the way his gaze stays locked on Ezra, who’s staring at him like Lazaro is a demon from another galaxy, sent to tear him limb from limb. He sits in the chair, and I swear I hear it groan under his weight.

I move swiftly behind the counter and put the total into the register for Ezra. His face is flushed when he turns stiffly toward me. He pays me, deliberately short-changing me, but I say nothing. I don’t want another confrontation. “I’ll see you later, Marri.” There’s a wealth of promise in his voice that puts me instantly on alert. “We have a few more things to clear up, after all.” Then he plasters on his fake smile and turns toward the door.

“Your discussions with her are finished,” Lazaro informs him before he can leave the salon. Ezra freezes, turning his head. “If you touch her, you and I will be meeting again,” he adds, but there is no missing the undertone in those words. Huffing, Ezra stalks out, slamming the door behind him.

I wince as the glass rattles, sure that it’s going to shatter any second, but by some miracle, it stays in place. That’d be the icing on the cake, and Old Man Withers would kick me out for sure. Wouldn’t matter to him the reason or who did it. Not to mention he’d put me on the hook for the repairs, and I can’t take that kind of hit right now.

I turn back to Lazaro who is watching me intently, as if he’s sure I’m about to break into pieces after that. He’d be sorely mistaken, because it takes a lot to break me. I’ve been proving that my entire life.

“Mr. Cattaneo, I’m sorry about that,” I tell him quickly. “Thank you for waiting. If you’d please have a seat, we can get started.” I walk toward him.

He gets to his feet, and I have to crane my neck back to look at him. Damn, he really is big, and being this close to him really drives it home. Instead of moving to my station, he reaches out and takes my arm in his hand, and I freeze.

Oh shit.

I struggle not to panic, wondering how fast I can yank out my scissors before he does whatever he’s planning. Fuck, I shouldn’t have put them in my pocket. Carefully, I turn myself even further toward him, trying to slide my free hand into my pocket.

“No need to stab me,dolcezza,” he tells me in a low voice, not even looking at me as he inspects my forearm, carefully turning it to reveal the bruises that Ezra left. “I just want to see what that son of a bitch did to mar your skin. He’s lucky I have other pressing needs or I’d have made him pay for every single one.” His gaze finally lifts to mine, and I have to work hard to hide my reaction to his words.

Why is that so hot?

My stomach burns at the thought of just what kind of damage a man like him could do. Especially to someone like Ezra. He might work out, but his muscles don’t hold a candle to the ones this guy is packing.

“Uh, I-I’m fine,” I manage. “He’s just not my biggest fan.”

Lazaro’s eyes narrow slightly. “That does not matter. No man should put his hands on an unwilling woman. Especially not when there are far more pleasurable touches one can give a woman.”

Holy shit, is it getting hot in here or what?

“Well, that will never be happening with Ezra Boyd,” I assure him, pulling my arm free. He lets go, but his eyes stay locked on mine. “But thank you for the timely rescue. It saved me fromgetting blood on the floor,” I add with a wry smile. I doubt I’d have been able to do much damage, but it would have been enough for me to at least get away. “Would you like to have a seat? Do you know what kind of haircut you’d like?” I gesture toward the chair.

Shit, I still need to clean that up.

“I’m afraid we don’t have time for that,dolcezza,” he answers, making me turn back to him, confused.

“You’re not here for a haircut?”

Suddenly, glass shatters and screams fill the street as the front door is kicked in, and I’m tackled to the floor. The only thing that keeps me from getting knocked out are the large hands enveloping my head, cushioning me.

What the hell is going on?

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