“Don’t step between me and the enemy like that.” He knew his voice was too cold, too dark. The way her eyes widened as she took a step back told him he’d frightened her. Something he’d never wanted to do, but if it kept her safe . . .
Then she shocked him by reaching up and cupping the side of his face. The warmth from her hand pushed away the deep chill engulfing him.
“Curt, he’s not the enemy. That’s Max Ferguson. I know him.”
“You know this guy, Jenna?”
The cowboy, who surprisingly hadn’t taken a cheap shot at him, stepped around to Jenna’s side. He still frowned at Curt but his stance was less confrontational.
“Yeah, uh, he’s an old family friend.”
Old family friend? Really?
Curt placed his arm around her shoulders and gave the cowboy a warning look. Mine.
The cowboy raised his eyebrows. Good. He got the message. Then Jenna winced, and he turned to her, worried.
“You’re injured.”
At the same time he spoke, the other guy, Max, called out for a doctor, who turned from where he was helping the paramedics load the old lady into the back of one of the ambulances.
“Doc, can you check Jenna out?” Max asked before Curt could demand he look at her. “She fell pretty hard when that little dick pushed into her.”
“I’m fine,” she protested. “It’s just a few scratches. How is Mrs. Childs?”
“You’re still getting looked at,” Curt said at the same time as Max said, “Jenna, let him check you over.”
Who the hell was this guy and did he mean something to Jenna? She’d only been here a few short months, God damn it. How could she have gotten involved with another man already?
Like owed you any sort of loyalty?
Maybe not, but he still felt jealous as hell at the idea of this backward hick touching her.
“Come over to the ambulance, Jenna. Let’s see how you’re doing. They’re going to want to examine you anyway. Then we can get an update on Mrs. Childs.”
Jenna watched them both suspiciously as the other doctor gently took hold of her forearm and led her away. Curt started walking after her but he kept the cowboy in sight, watching for any sign of an ambush. Later, he’d blame the cowboy for his inattention. Someone grabbed his arm, taking him completely by surprise. Tense and on edge, he turned, his arm already swinging out. He winced as his fist made contact with the man’s nose with a crunch.
Too late, he noticed he was dressed in a deputy’s uniform.
Oh fuck.
The guy who’d he’d punched earlier, looked on smugly as he was pushed to the ground, his arms pulled behind his back and cuffed.
“That’s him, Duncan,” the big cowboy said cheerfully as he held a packet of frozen peas to his nose. “That’s the guy who punched me.”
Chapter Six
Curt paced the small cell. Back and forth. Back and forth. When the hell was someone coming to let him out of here? They couldn’t keep him here long. So, he’d punched a couple of guys, there’d been extenuating circumstances. Like his woman being in danger.
Yeah, only no one knew she was his woman. Including Jenna. He ran his hand over his face. What was he thinking? She wasn’t his. She couldn’t be his.
She was innocence and light. And he was . . . he was the guy who went around punching people—including a deputy sheriff.
Fuck. Where the hell was Travis? He should be back by now and sorting this mess out. Curt needed to get out of here. He needed to check on Jenna. He could still hear her cry of alarm when he’d been arrested. He hadn’t liked how stiffly she’d been moving or the scrapes on her hands.
He hoped she’d gone to the hospital and gotten checked out properly. If she hadn’t, when he got out of here . . . Fuck, I’ll be lucky if she still wants to talk to me. She was probably terrified after the manic way he’d acted. Getting angry at her for endangering herself one moment then punching a damn deputy sheriff the next.
He was losing it. He knew it was bound to happen at some point. He’d honestly thought it would’ve happened earlier than this.