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“Do you realize who you are talking to? Do you?” he yelled. “You are nothing. You are beneath me. You are a poorly-bred woman who lucked into good bone structure and a sex appeal that yes, does keep me interested. You have this fire that made me lower my standards and elevate you into a society you would’ve never even imagined if you hadn’t tacked your life to mine. And then you leave with no warning—”
“Because you hurt me,” she whispered.
“Because you fucking deserved it! You know you did. That’s the real problem. You didn’t like how much you were failing with me, and you don’t do well with accountability. You ran because you are weak.”
“Sir, I think you should stop talking to the lady like that,” an older gentleman said from a couple tables down.
“Fuck you, you mangy inbred animal,” Derek aimed at him.
This had been a bad idea. There was no progress.
“Why can’t you just let me go?”
“Because you aren’t allowed to leave me,” he gritted out. “No one leaves me, and especially not someone like you.”
“I think you should go,” the waitress told him from where she stood a few yards back, holding their drinks. “This lady can stay, but you need to leave.”
Behind her was a bigger man, likely the manager of the restaurant. “Leave, or we can see how long it takes the police to come pick your fancy ass up.”
If Hallie wasn’t trying to fight off a panic attack, she would’ve smiled in gratefulness to small towns who took care of their own.
She loved it here. She didn’t know any of these people, but they were all standing and gathering loosely around their table.
Derek looked around at all of them and huffed a humorless laugh.
“You’re a long way from home, Derek,” she illuminated him. “No one here gives a rip who you are.”
Derek’s glare bore straight to her soul, and he nodded. There was something there…something evil in his eyes.
“See you real soon, Hallie,” he murmured, then stood and strode for his Ferrari. He peeled out of the parking lot, spewing gravel onto all of them.
She sat there shaking until he disappeared down the main road away from the police department.
“Oh my gosh,” she whispered in a trembling voice as the waitress’s hand rested on her shoulder.
“Honey, are you okay?” she asked.
Her entire body was shaking with adrenaline, and perhaps trauma from the flashbacks that were so easily accessible when she was near that horrible man.
She reached into her purse, pushed the Taser aside, and dragged out her wallet.
“You don’t have to worry about it,” the waitress started.
“I want to. That wasn’t fair for you to deal with either, and the kitchen is probably already making the food. I’m so sorry,” she said, setting two twenties into her hand. “No one should treat any of us like that.” She stood and started walking toward her car, flustered down to her bones. “Thank you for sticking up for me,” she called to the people who were gathered around the restaurant.
New plan—the second she settled down, she needed to message Gunner and tell him what happened and what Derek had said. See you real soon. And he knew Gunner’s information? Would he go after Gunner too? What about Corey?
She’d thought after a calm, civil talk, he would just go away when he saw she was different, and stronger, and out of his reach, but all it did was make things worse.
She got into her car and pulled past a black pickup that had parked way too freaking close to her passenger’s side door. Swallowing down a sob, she pulled onto the main road.
She wanted to go straight to the motel and see Gunner. He probably wasn’t even awake yet, but she just wanted to be in his arms and feel safe again. It was her day off work, so that was settled. She would go feel safe, and she and Gunner and Corey would come up with a good plan. Maybe going to the police again was the right direction. Maybe she could get some of the people at that restaurant as witnesses that he had come to her town—
Metal touched the side of her head, and she gasped and slammed on her brake.
“No, keep steady. Just drive.”
A horrified glance in the rearview showed there was a familiar man in the back seat of her car. He was the guy from the gas station. The man with the shaggy brown hair and the scar on his lip. His face was swollen and bruised still from Gunner’s fists, and his wrist was in a cast.
