My stomach drops.
I reach for the volume knob, but Beau's hand gets there first, blocking my access. He pulls the radio into his lap before setting his hand gently over mine and easing it back to the steering wheel.
“They’re idiots. It’s just harmless teasing,” I say, trying to make light of my embarrassment. “Just turn it off.”
He ignores me, jaw clenched, buthis hand moves to my thigh, just above my knee, heavy and grounding, as the chatter continues.
"Did you see her and Lennox at the trailhead, though? Cosy as anything." A scoff. “Definitely wouldn’t have thought he was her type. Not posh enough.”
I wish the ground would open up and swallow me. Now they’re speaking badly of Beau, although I can hardly comment.
I pretty much told him the same thing.
"Yeah, I saw. Hugging like a fucking Hallmark movie." A pause. “You think he’s really banging her?”
Fuck me.I groan out loud. Pretending their conversation isn’t happening is no longer an option.
"Would you blame me? I'd get cosy with her myself, money or no money.” Then in a slightly more serious tone, like they’re genuinely concerned about me. “But with that kind of money? She wants to be careful. If a Lennox gets his hands on her, he'll have her cleaned out before she knows what hit her."
I turn my face slightly towards my window, away from him, shoulders going stiff. “I’m sorry, Beau. They really are assholes.”
He growls, and I blink hard. I can’t blame him for being angry. My eyes are stinging, and my throat is closing, but I will not, I willnotcry in front of him.
“I couldn’t give a shit what they say about me.” Beau's hand tightens on my thigh, just barely, his voice husky and dangerously quiet when he speaks again. “But not you. They won’t speak like that about you ever again.”
12
BEAU
Iclose my eyes and suck in a calming lungful of her scent. My claws are pushing through my fingers, and distantly, I hear Lisa’s voice, but I can’t make out the words as I battle to keep my bear in check.
He wants to go back and punish whoever has upset her. And she is upset. She might be trying to hide it, but there’s no missing the sour tinge to her scent.
These people are supposed to be her colleagues, her friends, yet they speak like this about her behind her back. When she just worked her ass off and helped to save a child?
Fuck them.
When I pick up the radio, finger poised over the button and ready to give them a piece of my mind for speaking about her like that, Lisa lunges across me. With only one hand on the steering wheel, her entire body stretches across the console as she scrambles to grab the radio from my hand, the car swerving wildly, almost putting us in the ditch.
“What are you doing?” I shout, yanking the steering wheel back to the right position as she comes to a dead stop in the middle of the road.
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she’s calm, she extends her hand, palm up.
"Give it to me," she says, an edge of desperation in her tone.
When I keep it above my head, all pretence of calm vanishes, and she tries to snatch it again, her fingers swiping at thin air.
"Beau. Please. Give it to me."
My rage subsides long enough for me to look at her properly for the first time since the chatter started.
Now, in the dashboard light, I can see what she's been hiding. The tears she blinks back are threatening to spill down her cheeks. Her knuckles are white on the steering wheel, eyes wide, lips pressed thin.
She isn't angry. She's frightened.
The radio crackles, and she puts her face in her hands as another male voice joins the chorus. But I don’t take my eyes off her as the next person takes their opportunity to take aim.
"I mean, fuck, if the chief finds out? Even if it’s bullshit, he'd lose it. He's already pissed at her for wasting hours on the Reeves case, indulging the hysterical sister, ordering pointless drive-bys."