Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
I hesitated, just long enough to make sure the asshole wasn’t going to do something stupid, and just as I expected, he did something stupid. He stepped toward her, and when he reached for her arm, she flinched.
Nothing big or dramatic, but it was enough.
He’d hurt her before, and my gut told me he’d have no problem doing it again.
My back straightened the second his hand connected with her arm, and when he jerked her forward, I dropped my gloves and started toward them. “You know I was working.”
“You were shacked up with some stupid whore, Brandon. That’s where you always are, and that’s not work, especially the way you do it.”
That brought fire to his eyes, and it came as no surprise when he released her and immediately backhanded her. The girl dropped her face into her hands and started to sob. “I don’t know why I fucking bother. You worthless little bit…”
Before he could finish that statement, my fist connected with his jaw, sending him flailing back, but only momentarily. The guy was young and built like a damn linebacker, and he had a temper to match. Rage flickered through his eyes as he charged at me and snarled, “You should’ve minded your own, ol’ man.”
Now, call me sensitive, but that was a low blow.
Most people noticed me before I ever said a word. It was hard not to. I stood at about six-five, and I was built solid. Been that way since I was a kid. I worked out when I felt the need but ran on the daily. It helped keep my mind clear, and my gut from getting away from me.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew my age was starting to catch up with me. I saw it every time I saw my reflection. Gray was working its way through my hair, and my beard wasn’t as dark as it used to be.
Few years back, I wouldn’t have thought twice about putting this asshole in the ground, and after seeing the way he’d manhandled his girl, I would’ve slept fine after. But I’m not that guy anymore.
Now, I just needed him to feel. Just enough for him to get what he’d been doing to her. Enough that maybe next time, he’d think twice before raising his hand. My gut told me that wouldn’t be the case. I could see it in his eyes as he charged towards me.
He came in fast. Shoulder down, all muscle and anger, and he tried to bulldoze straight through me like his size was enough to take me out. A few years back, I might’ve met him head-on, just to prove a point, but these days I know better.
I pivoted, letting his weight carry him past me, and it threw him off balance. I used the opportunity to drive my elbow into his ribs as he stumbled by. He grunted, but it was more out of surprise than hurt. He spun back with a wild swing that caught me harder than I would’ve liked and rattled my teeth. My head snapped to the side, and the crack of the blow rung in my ears.
Yeah, I felt that one.
It reminded me I wasn’t quite as untouchable I used to be.
I rolled my jaw once, tasting a hint of blood, and gave him a look. “That the best you got?”
That only pissed him off even more.
Good. I wanted him pissed off.
He lunged again, this time getting a hand on my shirt and driving forward. We went down hard, gravel bit through denim as his weight crashed onto me, and the impact knocked the air from my lungs. He took advantage and threw a punch.
It landed. Rock solid.
Right into my ribs.
The pain flared hot and deep. A younger man might’ve been able to ignore it, but I felt every damn ounce of it. It fueled me and had me shifting my weight. I hooked my leg behind his and twisted hard, rolling us just enough to break his hold. I drove my fist into his side, low and precise, slamming right into his kidney.
He sucked in a strangled breath. It hurt now and would hurt even worse later. I shoved off him and onto my feet as I told him, “That one, you’re gonna remember.”
Holding his hand against his side, he hesitated, but the stubborn bastard didn’t stay down. He had grit. I’d give him that. It was stupid grit, but he had it all the same. He got to his feet and heaved, “You think you’re tough, ol’ man?”
I didn’t answer.
I didn’t have to.
I wasn’t the one holding my side and gasping for breath like I’d just run a fucking race. He came at me again, slower this time, and his movements were haphazard, like he was running out of steam. I stepped in before he could get any real momentum and drove my fist square into his gut, folding him.