At my gasp, his face turns to me. I flinch again at the hard look that’s come over his otherwise handsome features. “Are you fucking okay?” he spits with a tone that lacks all sympathy. I’m the annoying one here? I don’t fucking think so!
How in the hell can he turn this around, and make it everyone else’s fault? Any sympathy that I’ve felt for him over the last hour or so vanishes instantly. I feel the adrenaline starting to fire through my veins. He has the misfortune of pissing off the mama bear inside of me. I have years and years of being Izzy’s rock and strength on my side to fuel my anger. You do not piss off the one person who would go to battle to make sure that the woman in the other room doesn’t turn into that powerless blob again. Especially when, in all reality, all of this is in a way his fault. Even if he doesn’t know it, HE is the reason she is so screwed up.
And, just like a man, he can’t keep his mouth shut when he pisses off a woman. You would think that he would know better. But his words prove otherwise. “Seriously, do you need something? Water, a chair, a fucking Midol?”
All that adrenaline, fire, and pent up, stone cold fury rushes to the surface, and all I want to do is charge this man. I walk right up to him, step into the middle of the small space between him and Locke, and do my best to meet his angry glare with one of my own. “Listen here you . . . you big asshole, you will not sit here and be a little shit. You have no clue what’s going on, but I promise you this, it’s bigger than your need to ‘chat.’ Do you understand me?” I jam my finger into his rock hard chest a few times just to make sure my point is clear.
He looks down at my finger, still pressed hard between his pecs, before wrapping his fingers around my wrist and removing it. “No, little girl, I do not fucking understand you, not one little bit. So maybe your ass can clue a bastard in?” Just as quickly, that burst of anger seems to vanish, and he looks like the same confused man that he was earlier when he realized the woman standing before him was his long, lost lover.
“I can’t, Axel. This isn’t my story to tell.” I smile weakly, but drop my lips the second his confusion turns a little darker.
“How do you know my name? I haven’t gone by Axel in a long fucking time, Sweetheart, so if anyone knows what’s going on, my guess would be you.”
“Of course I know what’s happening, but like I said, this isn’t my story to tell.” I point towards the door, the door that is protecting Izzy from having to have this conversation. “It’s hers. It always has been. I just never thought I would see the day it would need to be told.”
His eyes squint, glaring down at me when I refuse to open up and clue him in, “All right, fine, don’t fucking tell me, but let me ask you this, does her fucking husband know she’s out, dressed like that, flirting with anything that speaks to her?”
“You son of a bitch . . .” I don’t even think before my hand flies up and cracks against his cheek. It’s hard to tell who is more shocked that I slapped him, and slapped him hard enough to cock his head to the side.
“What the fuck was that for?” he rumbles. Behind me, I can hear one of the three other men in the hall laughing, and heat rushes to my face. As embarrassed as I might be for letting my temper get the best of me, there is no way in hell that I feel bad about giving him that hit.
“Oh shit, shit . . . I am not sorry for that. Get that straight, right now, but you need to watch your mouth, and what you say about Iz. Until you know what’s going on, you have no room to say anything. Not one damn thing.” I cross my arms over my chest and hold my ground. If he isn’t going to listen to anyone, then I’ll take him out by myself if I have to.
He sighs deeply before reaching into his pocket to retrieve his wallet, slipping out a white card, and holding it out to me. “Here, give her this, and have her call me.”
“I’ll tell her, but I won’t make any promises to you. If you understood what you are asking of me, well, you would just understand where I’m coming from.”
He starts to respond, but the door next to us opens up, and Greg walks through the door with Izzy curled protectively in his arms. The scene reminds me of so many of her ‘breaks’ in the past that I sway slightly with the enormity of emotions weighing me down. I want to scream and punch something.
What I really want to do is find Brandon-fucking-Hunter and kill him with my bare hands. How dare he take such a perfectly happy woman and turn her into this hot mess. The truth is, not even I am immune to him. Not after that night, not too long after he and Izzy were married when he showed me firsthand what she had been living through, and then some. When the memory filters through my mind, I find myself almost on my ass, but Beck steps over and loops his arm around my shoulders, holding me steady.
“I got you,” he mumbles in my ear.