Page 11 of Hold the Line

The things he hollered wouldn’t have bothered me if they’d been aimed at me, but he’d turned his head to shout obscenities at Phoebe. Ugly names. Hideous accusations.

I couldn’t let it go on. Not for another second.

The first punch snapped his attention back to me. As soon as I had it, I jumped up and jammed my steel-toed boot into his ribs—once, twice, three times. By the fourth, he wasn’t yelling anymore. He was crawling, headed toward the door.

I’d have gone after him if not for Phoebe throwing herself in front of me. “Deacon, stop. He got the message. Now, you need to stop. You can’t do anything to get yourself in trouble.”

She reached out, wrapping her fingers around my forearm. “Don’t, please,” she whispered.

The haze of violence began to clear, but black still edged my vision. The bells above the door jingled, and we both turned as the bastard bolted out into the street.

All my instincts screamed for me to run after him, but Phoebe’s soft fingers stroked my arm, holding me in place.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine. It’s over. He’s gone now.” She lifted on her toes, her eyes filled with urgency. “I don’t want you tangled up in this.”

“Do you know him?”

She shook her head. “Not really. His friend asked me out, I turned him down, and…well, he wasn’t happy about it.”

My jaw was rigid, but I managed to bite out, “You gonna call the cops now?”

Phoebe didn’t appear shaken. Of the two of us, I was the one worse for wear. She seemed steady, quietly mulling over my question. If I’d been asked to guess how this soft, pink woman would have reacted to being treated roughly by a man, it wouldn’t have been this. Instead of tears and wobbly knees, she had pushed her shoulders back and taken deep, calming breaths.

Her guileless eyes found mine. “I don’t want them looking at you when you did nothing wrong. You protected me, but I don’t know if they’ll see it that way.”

I wasn’t a big fan of the law, but this woman needed more than me on her side. Chances were, the coward wouldn’t be back, but having a more concrete guarantee would help me sleep easier at night.

“Doesn’t sit right with me. Call ’em”

Her eyes bounced over my face. “Are you sure?”

I nodded once. “Do it.”

She released a heavy breath. “All right, but you were never here. I’ll tell them I chased him away with a rolling pin.”

I blinked at her. “A rolling pin?”

Cheeks flushing prettily, she waved. “Baker here. It’s my weapon of choice. They’ll buy it.”

A minute ago, I’d been ready to run. Now, I was hesitating. Leaving her alone didn’t feel right, especially when I’d spilled the drops of blood on the floor.

But I couldn’t go back…

“You sure?” I choked out.

She nodded, resolute. “Absolutely. If you got in trouble, I’d never forgive myself.”

That got me moving. I was out the door and around the corner when what she’d said really hit me. Phoebe didn’t want me to go back. She knew I’d been in prison.

She’d also called me Deacon, and I was positive I’d introduced myself as Deke.

I sank down to my ass between two buildings, my back against a cold brick wall, and flexed my hand. It wasn’t too bad. My boots had taken the brunt of the hits.

Christ, what am I doing?

I was not a violent man by nature, even if my actions said otherwise. Every time I had to use my fists, I swore it killed a part of me. I didn’t feel good about hurting anyone, even assholes who probably deserved it.

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