Right here, and right now, I have to put my best friend hat on and do whatever I need to do for Izzy. I spare Beck a brief glance before looking back up into the fire sparking, emerald green eyes of Axel Reid.
“Move the fuck out of my way, Woman. I will not tell you a-fuckin-gain.” The cold fury lacing his words causes me to flinch, but I stand my ground. “I will get back there. Do you fucking hear me, Isabelle? I will be talking to you!” He screams loudly over my head so that his voice can do what I won’t let him physically do . . . reach Izzy.
“You need to stop. I don’t mean shut up and sit down. I mean shut up and go the hell on. If Izzy ever wants to speak to you, which I seriously doubt she will after your immature little tantrum, then she will call. But this, this shit that you are so inclined to throw in her face is going to stop. Right. Fucking. Now.” I’m pretty proud of myself when I deliver all of that without my voice shaking with the fear still surrounding me.
When his eyes, already so full of anger and hate, turn towards me, I know it’s not going to be pretty. I can almost taste the madness coming off of him. Right before he can get a word in, Beck hooks me around the hip and pushes me behind him. “No.” One word, but one with so much meaning, only a fool wouldn’t recognize the warning. This man, who doesn’t even know me, just stuck up and picked sides against someone close enough to be his family.
That doesn’t happen to me.
Never, not once, has a man ever been anything but a narcissistic ass towards me. I stopped expecting anything more than some tit staring, and if I’m lucky, an orgasm years ago. But with that simple move, Beck might become the first man to make me question my decision about getting attached.
It doesn’t take long for things to get a little crazy. Even I’m not comfortable with all the testosterone waves pulsing off each of these men. All I want to do is grab Izzy and get back home to our safe little nest.
Beck stands his ground for a few minutes, nods his head, and takes a step back next to me, effectively making my wall of resistance against Axel one body longer. Not once does he remove his arm from my waist. I’m too busy trying to figure out my body’s reaction to this man, so I don’t notice when Axel’s anger hits a breaking point.
“FUCK!” he roars. Literally roars. Goosebumps break out across my body, and each hair stands on end. He is nothing short of terrifying. “Get out of my goddamn way, Woman!”
Axel’s last outburst must have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Before Axel can even continue his tirade, a spitting mad Greg pulls open the door supporting my back. One look at his face, and I know that he’s reached his breaking point, too. Honestly, I figured he would bust out the door the second that Axel screamed for ‘Isabelle.’ After I right myself from losing the door that I had been leaning against, Beck and I calmly move to the side to get out of his way. I’m trying to keep my shit together, but inside, I’m anything but calm.
A million questions are running through my mind. Who has Izzy? Is she okay? Does she need me? Did I do the right thing keeping Axel away from her? Where is she?
I zone out with my worry when they start their pissing contest. I know Greg has Izzy’s best interest at heart, but part of me wonders if we’re doing the right thing by keeping these two apart. Something in my gut is telling me that things aren’t what they seem.
I know I’m not the poster child for relationships, or hell, even a supporter of them, but there is something to be said about getting some closure. I just want her to be happy, however she gets there, and by whatever she needs to do to achieve it.
When I hear the door slam shut, I focus my eyes back on the tall man standing before me. Shoulders hunched, hand rubbing the back of his neck, and now with the fury dimming slightly, you can feel the waves of confusion pulsating off of him. I feel the arm around my hips tighten slightly, and I look up into Beck’s concerned, chocolate brown eyes.
“Are you okay?” he whispers in my ear.
“Not really, but it’s not me I’m worried about.”
“Let me see your phone.” I don’t even question him. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and hand it to him. His large hand enveloping my iPhone makes it look like a tiny Lego. His long fingers hold me in a trance as he unlocks my phone and moves them across the screen in a slow dance that has my skin prickling with awareness. I jump slightly when I hear another phone ringing. He hands me back my phone, and with a twisted smile, and a gleam in his eyes, pulls his out of his front pocket.
“Will you call me when you get home? Let me know you’re okay, and that everything else is okay?”