Page 56 of The Carver

The intense conversation dropped when the waitress brought our entrees—all three of them.

I looked at the pasta and then the pizza, and I didn’t know which one looked better.

Bastien looked at me with a sly smirk before he dropped his linen across his lap. His elbows moved to the table, and he started to feast on his roast chicken, a man who had to eat thousands of calories a day to keep up all the muscle on the steel of his bones. Sometimes he would look at me, but most of his attention was on his food, like a hungry bear.

I went back and forth between the pasta and the pizza, even scooping the pasta onto a slice and trying it that way. My food was a lot better than his, all fat and carbs, while he stuck to his chicken, rice, and veggies. But that was why he was hot and I had an ass.

He stopped eating, and his eyes were on the door, lingering there for a long time with a blank expression on his face.

Half of his food was still on the plate, and I’d never seen him not finish a meal, so I asked, “Did you not like the food?”

He didn’t blink. Kept up the hard stare like he saw someone he recognized but didn’t want to see.

I started to turn to look over my shoulder.

“Don’t move.” His voice was quiet, and his words were quick.

The relaxed ambiance between us suddenly disappeared when I detected the warning in the air. When I felt the hostility pour off him in waves. It seemed like my heart had stopped because I took his words so literally.

He continued his hard stare, not blinking once.

“Should I be worried?—”

“Get down.”

“What—”

He didn’t ask me again. He got to his feet and flipped the table, our food falling to the floor and the plates shattering. He pushed me down to the floor and shoved the table up against the wall, putting me in a cage without a roof.

I let out a little scream when I hit the floor because someone came at Bastien from behind, brandishing a long knife.

Bastien executed a series of moves that happened so fast, throwing up his elbow to hit the assailant in the face before he grabbed the guy’s arm and spun it down, slamming the blade into his thigh.

The guy screamed, the knife impaling him.

Bastien punched him hard before he yanked the knife out by the hilt and threw him aside.

I saw the guy hit the floor, screaming in anguish as he gripped his thigh and he tried to stop the bleeding.

Then I heard gunshots.

“Oh my god…” I stayed there, staring at the man bleeding to death on the floor, terrified the same would happen to me but with bullets instead of knives.

I could hear the commotion, hear the sounds of grunts and yells as the fighting continued. I knew Bastien was alive because there would be no fight if he were dead. Desperate to see what was happening, I inched closer to the man who continued to scream, and I peered around the corner.

Bastien made a flurry of moves that looked like action stunts in a movie from Hollywood, successfully spinning the gun out of his enemy’s hand and then firing at the next guy who came at himwith a knife. It was three on one, but Bastien managed to hold his own, kicking ass in a fight he hadn’t known was coming.

He slammed one guy’s head onto the edge of the table, and his neck cracked when it broke. He was dead on the floor, eyes wide and lifeless.

The guy screaming next to me looked at me, but he seemed to be too distressed to come for me.

Bastien grabbed the next guy then literally threw him, sending him crashing into another table.

The last one hesitated before he faced off with Bastien, like he knew he was in deep shit.

Bastien tossed the gun aside like he preferred hand-to-hand combat rather than a cheap shot. He came at him in a rush, throwing a fist hard into his face before pummeling him again, moving at a speed that seemed impossible with his large mass.

The guests in the restaurant had already run out. The waiters had ditched too. Police had probably been called and were rushing to the scene, but by the time they got there, the fight would already be over.

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