Page 41 of Whiskey Darling
Michael’s eyes flare with a mixture of hatred and lust. “Heneededsomeone to fuck. You fitthatposition perfectly.” Snatching the basket from my hands, he hurls it aside. Tiny, delicate cakes tumble from protective cases onto the gravel. I want to cry when a seagull swoops in for a bon-bon with a victorious screech.
“I tried canceling this shit, but they wouldn’t do it. Fucking cupcakes. Who wants cupcakes with whiskey? No one, you stupid bitch.Youshouldn’t be here. You know that, right? You don’t belong here, but Flynn is blinded by you. So, you know what I’m gonna do, Allie? Tell him about us. Tell him how his little Darling fucked me good behind his back. Think he’ll still want you around then? Think you’ll still be his golden girl?”
“That’s your plan?” I cry in disbelief. “This junior-high level subterfuge? Really? What did you do, Michael? You hacked my computer and inserted those vacation photos into my presentation. Deleted the files, the invitations, my reports.” The guilty flush on his face confirms my accusation. “And you tried canceling an order of pastries. All to make me look incompetent. Do you realize how petty, how childish you are?”
I can’t help it. I begin laughing. Even when he violently shakes me, I can’t stop. “You’re pathetic. Flynn will never believe that I’ve slept with you.”
“Stop laughing at me.” Michael’s face turns crimson. “I said, stop it!”
“And I said, get your hands off me, asshole,” I whisper, slamming my knee into his groin.
With a groan, he doubles over, his hold loosening enough that I can dart away.
But I trip over the basket, landing on my bare knees, skinning my palms. The sting is forgotten when Michael tackles me from behind. For several moments, we struggle. When my fingernails rake across his face, I gain my freedom, scrambling yet again out of his reach.
I’m almost free. Once I escape the granite circle, I’ll make a run for the main building.
Hasn’t anyone noticed my extended absence?
Michael snags my wrist. Looming over me, I see the nasty scratch across his cheek. Blood oozes from it as his jaw clenches with fury. In his other fist is a red-handled switchblade.
Terror sends my heart lurching in all directions. This man means to hurt me. Badly.
“I’m gonna love taking the fight out of you, you little whore,” he promises thickly, rotating the knife in a twisting motion that makes my stomach roil. “Somewhere private. Where no one can hear your screams.”
I’m so glad I wore these fierce ankle boots instead of the strappy heels I planned on wearing with this flirty black dress. The wood heel makes a satisfying crunch when I kick him with such force that his knee cracks. Michael gasps in pain, the knife slipping in his hand. Lightning quick, I do it again, miraculously hitting the same knee, and the cruel fingers around my wrist loosen again. Crawling away, I grab a handful of gravel and hurl it into his eyes.
It must feel like buckshot because he roars with pain, grabbing at his face and giving me a few precious moments to place even more distance between us.
“What the fuck have you done, Lassiter?”
My head snaps around, and there’s Flynn. He’s standing on the edge of the granite stone circle, features twisted into a mask of icy rage.
I’ve never been so happy to see someone in my entire life. Gratitude swells inside my heart, fighting for space with the feeling of relief before love pushes it all aside and takes over.
“Flynn,” I choke out, reaching a hand toward him. I want to warn him about the knife, but I can’t get out anything else in my terror.
Flynn. Oh, thank God... you came…
Flynn rushes past me, launching himself at Michael in a flurry of fists. He slams the other man onto his back, and the knife arcs through the air, skittering out of reach where it lands in the gravel.
Michael fights back, but the blows I landed before and the gravel in his eyes hinder him. Besides, he’s no match for Flynn. Smashing the other man’s face, Flynn follows those with quick, powerful body jabs. It seems like forever before my attacker crumples in a groaning heap.
Then the man I love sweeps me up into his arms, crushing me against his chest.
“Baby, are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Bracketing my face withing his palms, his hands are shaking
“He has a knife,” I stutter.
Flynn’s eyes darken when he sees the scrapes on my knees and the blood on my palms. Although I’ve suffered no knife injury, fury washes over his face.
“I’m gonna fucking kill him.”
My arms tighten around his waist so he won’t return to the task of beating Michael. “Don’t, Flynn. Just hold me, please. Hold me and… don’t let go.”
He stiffens as if shocked by my plea, a myriad of emotions flashing in his eyes. Worry. Anger. Hope. Gratitude. Surrender. A hoarse cry escapes as he embraces me tighter. “My God.Allie…”
Comprehension floods me, and I know.
I know the feelings I have for him are the same he harbors in secret for me. There’s no hiding the fear for my safety or the naked fury that someone was hurting me.
Flynn Alexander cannot hide his love for me.
