Free Intercepted by J Q Anderson Page B

Marc?” I mutter, closing my
hands into fists to derail the impulse to clutch them around her over-tanned
whore neck.
    “Um.” She frowns and looks around behind her shoulder.
    A second pair of footsteps approaches. This time they belong to Marc.
    “Who is it Bab—” His sentence is left hanging from his half-open
mouth as he stares at me with wide eyes. His face blanches and it looks like he ’ s forgotten how to breathe.
    “Hey, Babe ,” I say, glaring at him as the last of the oxygen
leaves my body. I feel like I am going to pass out right here on his doorstep.
Or throw up. I hope it ’ s the latter
and that it leaves a huge mess for him to clean.
    “Nati,” he finally says and my stomach churns in disgust. I don ’ t want him to say my name.
    Ever. Again.
    Butt lips-girl raises her palms and turns around toward the stairs. I
narrow my eyes, watching her whore-ass take the steps two at a time. Yeah,
you run .
    Marc rakes both hands through his hair. He looks lost. Then he opens the
door wider so I can come in. But I don ’ t.
    I have no intention to come in.
    “What the hell, Marc?” I mutter.
    “It ’ s not what it looks like,” he
has the nerve to say. “I mean, it is, but I can explain.”
    “Explain?” I let out a humorless chuckle.
    He exhales a sharp breath. “It doesn ’ t mean anything, Nati. I ’ m in love with you. This just… Shit .” He
presses his forehead against the edge of the door.
    I hate it when guys say that when they get caught cheating. ‘It didn ’ t mean anything. ’ Because it does.
    “It means everything , Marc. It means you are a cheating, fucking
lying son of a bitch. I want nothing to do with you. Ever.” I whip around and
rush down the steps to the street. He catches up with me and grips my arm. I
yank it off and give him a murderous glare. He lets go.
    “Please, Nati. Please don ’ t go.
Let ’ s talk about this.”
    “ I don’ t want to fucking talk to
you. Ever again,” I snarl. Tears fill my eyes and spill. My words make him take
a step back. He ’ s looking at me with a mix of
regret and desperation.
    “Please. I don ’ t want you to
leave. We can go somewhere else and talk.”
    “No.” I turn around and set off toward the street.
    “Nati, please.” He is following me and for the first time I notice he ’ s wearing boxers under his shirt and he ’ s barefoot. I hope he steps on a rusted nail.
“Will you stop?”
    I whip around. “Get the fuck away from me.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “Back to the fucking airport.”
    “Nati. Please. It ’ s late. Just…
wait until tomorrow.”
    “Fuck you, Marc. I hope you and butt-lips are fucking happy together.”
    “Goddammit, Nati. Fucking stop for a second so we can have a proper
conversation about this.” He snatches my elbow and I try to shake him off, but
he ’ s gripping me hard.
    “Let go,” I snap.
    “ Stop walking ,” he growls.
    “What seems to be the problem?” A cop steps out of a deli. He ’ s looking at Marc under a frown. His eyes dart
down, taking in his half-dressed appearance, then stop on the hand that is
gripping my elbow.
    “Everything okay, ma ’ am?” His eyes
are now on me. I look at Marc with flared nostrils and I almost smile. Fuck
you, asshole.
    “No. I need a taxi.” I lock eyes with the cop and he nods once, then
looks at Marc.
    “I sure hope you have somewhere else to be, or you will get a free ride
to the station.”
    Marc lets go of me and shakes his head. His eyes search mine. “We need to
talk.”
    “ I don’ t need to talk to you. I
need a taxi to the airport.”
    The cop gives Marc a pointed look and he turns around, looking defeated.
I watch his cheating ass retrieve and my throat thickens. I don ’ t want to cry in front of the cop. He will feel
bad and may not want to let me go, and right now I need to be in a fucking
plane that will take me away from Marc and this hollow city with no soul.
    “Are you okay? Was that man bothering