Page 84 of Scrape the Barrel
I have to move. I can’t let him corner me,
“I can’t afford that. I’m barely getting by as it is,” I said. My words were hurried, my voice more high-pitched than normal.
He was a foot away from me now, staring me down like a lion wouldhis kill.
I took another step, and my back hit the wall. I flinched when my shoulder blades connected with the wall, every nerve ending inside of me standing at attention.
One more step, and he was in my face, lowering his gaze slightly so that we were eye to eye. His hand came up to roughly grip my jaw and it took all I had in me not to make a sound. “Then figure it out.”
The cowbell rang out with the door opening, but before either of us could look that way, a voice said, “Step the fuck away from her or I’ll cut your fucking hand off.”
Callan.
Fuck, fuck fuck.
If he got involved, if Jason hurt him, I’d never forgive myself.
Jason moved his hand from my jaw, patting my cheek twice before he removed his hand. I closed my eyes tightly against the touch, wishing I could just fucking disappear. His hands on me made my skin crawl, fear pounding in my ears. This was nothing compared to what he’d done in the past.
In front of me, I could tell Jason had straightened, and I opened my eyes. Callan was standing in the middle of the cafe. All I wanted was to go to him and sink into his arms and let him hold me.
Jason scoffed. “You run off to some cowboy, Sage?”
Callan approached, coming around the back of the counter. “Step away from her.”
Jason faced him. “Or what, big boy?”
Callan kept his calm, but I could see the rage building inside him with the slight flare of his nostrils.
“You need to leave,” Callan demanded.
Jason chuckled. “Am I really being threatened by a hick right now?” He reached behind him, grabbing my arm.
“Jason, let go,” I begged, trying to pry his grip off of me with my other hand.
His grip slid down my arm to my wrist and he tugged. Pain shot up my arm, my hand going numb as I hissed in a breath.
“My girl and I were just leaving actually,” Jason said.
As if he had the fucking right to claim me.
“You’re hurting me, Jason, please.” Tears stung my eyes as my arm laid limp in his hold. When the pain got too bad, my nerves would burn and my hand wouldn’t want to function. That’s how it felt as Callan took two steps forward and swung.
Jason dropped my wrist as Callan’s fist connected with his jaw. He staggered a few steps to the side with the impact, and before Jason had the chance to react, Callan was reaching around him to urge me toward him. His hand at my lower back, I quickly moved out from behind Jason, only to be moved behind Callan’s back now.
His hand slid into mine behind him as he warned, “You swing back, and you’ll end up right back in that prison.”
My hand was still numb, doing its best to hold onto Callan’s.
Jason wiped the blood from the corner of his lip, looking at the red drop of liquid glistening on his finger. “You picked a fight with the wrong guy, hick boy.”
Callan’s thumb gently rubbed along my wrist. “I don’t pick fights I won’t win, and I’d suggest you do the same. Bell Buckle doesn’t take kindly to guys like you, so unless you want this whole town on your ass, I suggest you leave.”
I didn’t doubt for a second that the Bronson brothers would put Jason in his place. I was sure the entire town would, too, but I didn’t want that on my conscience. I already felt guilty for involving Callan.
Jason dropped his hand from where he was admiring the blood, staring daggers at me. “Remember what I said.”
Then he shoulder checked Callan on his way past him, and I couldn’t take a breath until the cowbell chimed.
