My mouth drops open. “Fuck you.” I unwind my wrist from his grip and stomp off.
“What the hell did you just say to me?” He stalks after me, grabbing my upper arm and swinging me around.
“I said fuck you!” I shout. “We’re over.”
“Like hell we are.” His hand comes up in a blur and I turn just as his fist connects with my face.
“You bastard!” I cover my eye as if that’s going to make a difference. “Get the fuck out of here before I rip your balls off.” I bend down, tears springing to my eyes.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” He bends down to hover over me. “I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry. I really am. It’s just that I really like you and I don’t want you to break up with me.”
I stand up straight. “Go to hell. Get outa here.” I step back in case he comes after me again.
“Chevelle, I really didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” It’s like another personality has come over him—he’s gone from rage to sorrow in a heartbeat.
“Go!” I point toward his car.
The door of the inn opens and a guy I think might work in the kitchen comes out, heading toward his car. He looks at the two of us, and Derek retreats to his car.
“Fine. Have it your way,” he mumbles.
Once his tires are off the gravel of the parking lot and on the pavement of the road, I slide through the doors of the inn, heading to the bathroom and hoping my face isn’t as bad as it feels. I feel equal parts shaken and numb. I’ve never had a guy be aggressive with me before. I don’t quite know how to feel.
“Chevelle.” Cam touches my arm as I pass by him.
I purposely keep my face down. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
His forefinger and thumb touch my chin and he turns my face up, seeing what I assume is the start of a black eye because his eyes flash with concern first, then red-hot anger. He touches around my eye gently and I wince. “Oh, he just wrote his fucking death certificate.”
“I handled it, Cam, relax.”
“Then I’ll handle it again.”
“Please don’t,” I say, but he’s already walking out the doors of the inn as if he’s the white knight who’s going to save me.
5
“CAN I PLEASE GET A SHIRT?”
Cam
That asshole is a dead man. Worthless piece of shit. What kind of man hits a woman?
I climb into my car, my foot slamming on the brake as I hit the start button and put it in drive. My tires kick up gravel as I speed out of the parking lot of the inn. The entire drive to the marina, all I envision is my fist slamming into his jaw and the satisfying crunch I'll hear. I’ll make sure he never touches her again.
I have no choice but to slow down as I roll through town, but once I’m out of the downtown area and closer to the marina, I kick it into high gear, racing into the parking lot before slamming on my brakes and stalking out of my car. I shed my suit jacket and toss it on the park bench that sits close to the marina. Porter’s just came in from gold crab season by the Aleutian Islands and said he was going to do a cod run before he goes back out for more gold crab.
The guys are stacking the equipment for cod fishing when I approach Porter’s boat. Derek’s nowhere to be seen though.
“Hey, Porter.”
The old man looks down off the deck of his boat.
“Permission to come aboard?”
He waves me up. “Little dressed up for a boat, no?”
“You have a deckhand. Derek something?”
He glances over his shoulder and blows out a breath. “What’d he do?”
I guess I’m that transparent.
The other deckhands slow their movements and look at us, eager to figure out why I’m looking for their new guy. They’re good at sensing the ones who don’t fit, so their radar is probably up on Derek anyway.
“I just need a word. He here?”
“In the barracks. Changing. This is his second time being late. One more strike and he’s gone.”
Porter has three daughters of his own. Once the news travels that Derek hit Chevelle, he’ll be lucky if he’s not chopped up and used as bait.
“You might want to call for a new deckhand then.”
Porter’s chin drops to his chest, and he shakes his head.
As luck would have it, Derek comes out of the door from the barracks and comes to an abrupt halt when he sees me. The cockiness he’s worn as a badge isn’t there anymore. He knows why I’m here.
“Listen. It was an accident. She’s clumsy.” He holds up his hands. “I don’t know what she told you.”
“Fucking hell,” Porter mumbles.
“What kind of accident?” I approach him, hands fisted at my sides, pulse thrumming in my ears.
“Who is she?” a deckhand asks.
Neither of us answers, but they know me well and know who I’d protect within an inch of my life. Not that I wouldn’t protect any woman, but I’d go above and beyond for Chevelle.
“The car door. She was saying goodbye and I was shutting the door. It was an accident.”
I stalk toward him, and he steps back again. “That’s not what she said.”
In truth, she didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. I saw the embarrassment and shame all over her face—both of which she shouldn’t be feeling. Just like at her mother’s wake, she wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone. She blamed herself for her mother’s death and she probably blames herself for dating this douche.
“You know chicks like her. Always the victim even though they dress like that.”
Adrenaline surges through my veins and it’s all I can do to keep my voice even. “Dress like what?” I continue my approach.
His hands are still up in the air. “Like she wants it.”
“And when she said no, you hit her?”
All the equipment the fishermen are holding falls to the deck of the boat, and they walk over behind me.
“I told you it was an accident.” He’s jittery, his eyes darting to the men behind me.
I appreciate the backup, but I’ll handle this myself.
“It wasn’t an accident. You fucking hit her, and now it’s time to learn what it’s like when someone a helluva lot bigger hits you.” I cock my fist back and nail him right in the left eye.
Satisfaction filters into my bloodstream and I give him a wicked smile. He teeters a bit to the side, but I want him to come at me. I want any excuse I can get to beat the shit out of him.
“I said I was sorry, man.” He touches his eye, blood squirting from where the skin broke open.
“Sorry isn’t good enough. Didn’t anyone ever tell you never to hit a woman?” I aim my fist for his face again, but he blocks me this time. So I hammer my left hand into his side. He hunches over.
“Fuck, man. If you want her, why didn’t you just say so? Just so you know, she’s a fucking cocktease though.”
This idiot must have a death wish.
I rush him, tackling him around the waist and taking his legs out from under him. My fists hit anywhere I can make contact and he’s trying to wrestle me to get me off him, throwing blind punches up.