Page 16 of Thirst in the Mountains

Emmanuel steps forward, that big sexy jaw clenched tight. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Angelo’s goon lunges forward, swinging that knife in warning, but it doesn’t have the desired effect. Not even close.

Emmanuel is bigger, smarter, and faster. He closes the distance in a blur and grabs the guy’s scrawny wrist. The guy squeals as Emmanuel squeezes hard. So hard the knife drops onto the ground. Emmanuel kicks it away and then slams him into the dumpster with aboomso loud it echoes down the dark alley.

“Why are you following my girl?” Emmanuel hisses into his face.

Mygirl… I swallow hard, wondering why he said that, wondering why it feels so wonderful to hear…

“I wasn’t!” the guy screams, tears welling in his eyes. “I don’t know this bitch!”

He screams as Emmanuel bends his wrist the wrong way. I close my eyes and cover my ears before I can hear the sickening crack.

“Give me the names and addresses of everyone in town looking for her,” Emmanuel growls.

“No one is looking for her,” he squeals. “I swear it!”

Emmanuel punches him in the face hard—once, twice,threetimes. He holds him up by his jacket as the man’s legs give out.

“I wantnames,” Emmanuel growls as blood pours down the goon’s chin from his broken nose and split lip.

“You’re a fucking cop!” the guy shrieks, shielding his bloody face with his shaking hands. “I have rights!”

Emmanuel releases him and steps back. He never takes those smoldering eyes off him as he unhooks his badge from his massive chest and then tosses it onto the ground. His shirt comes off next—right over his head, and I’m treated to another show of this beautiful man in a sleeveless undershirt. Somehow his tattooed arms look even larger in the moonlight.

Next, he unbuckles his belt where his gun and taser are secured, and tosses it beside the door to the restaurant.

I know I’m in danger and this isnotthe time for dirty thoughts, but holy hell. This man is making it very difficult for me to stay focused.

“I’m not a cop now,” Emmanuel says, spreading his thick arms out wide. “I’m on break. So, we don’t have to worry about any rules, laws, or rights.”

“You’re a fucking psycho,” he says, scrambling to his feet.

“You attacked my girl.”

Mygirl. He said it again. It sounds better every time.

The guy lunges for his knife again, but Emmanuel is too fast. He descends on him like a force of nature. It’s like watching a bull fighting a goat.

Angelo’s goon gets a few punches in, but they don’t seem to have any effect on Emmanuel except to make his punches come out harder and faster. I stare in awe at his muscles all rippling and flexing in the moonlight. It’s visual poetry. It’s pure erotic desire.

The goon falls to his knees and Emmanuel grabs a fistful of his hair, his other hand cocked back in a fist.

“Okay! Okay!” he screeches with shaking hands up, surrendering completely. “Stop!”

“Where are they?” Emmanuel growls.

“I don’t know,” he says, “but they left! Angelo is coming back on Thursday night. I fucking swear!”

“If I find out you’re lying,” Emmanuel says, “I’ll bury you under that mountain.”

“I’m not!” he shouts, his fearful eyes pleading. “He’s coming back on Thursday to steal the dog and hurt the girl!”

“She’s undermyprotection,” Emmanuel says, pointing at me. “Ifanyof you fuckers enter my town again, I’ll kill you with a smile on my face. You understand me?”

“Yes,” he says, sobbing.

“Go back to the rat hole you crawled out of,” Emmanuel says, slamming him into the dumpster one last time. “And don’t ever come back.”

---