Page 120 of Dangerous Men

“You have to try this one,” Ashton says, handing me another compostable plate with a pile of carne asada tacos. “At least one bite. This has got to be the best one so far.”

I’ve tried at least four different dishes Ashton swears have been the best, but I take the plate from him without complaint and have a bite of the small taco, moaning as the rich flavors hit my tongue.

I’ll admit it—Mexican food has always been my favorite, hands down. And with Fortune City so close to the border, I can be a bit of a snob about what’s authentic and what’s not.

This food truck Ashton brought us to? It might be the best Mexican street food I’ve had in years.

By the time we’ve finished off everything (with Ashton eating at least four times what I could manage), I’m pleasantly full and more than content. I feel happy. Happier than I have been in years.

“There’s an amazing ice cream place just down the street,” Ashton tells me after he clears away the empty plates from our table. “What’s your favorite flavor?”

I can’t help but laugh. Of course Ashton still has room for dessert after devouring what had to be at least ten pounds of food. The man must have a black hole for a stomach.

“I’d never say no to chocolate,” I tell him with a smile.

“Great choice.” Ashton grins back. “You stay right here, Babygirl, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

It’s no surprise when several women—and even a few men—turn to watch Ashton as he walks away. I feel a strange sense of pride knowing I’m the one he’s choosing to spend his night with. I’m the one he’s dating.

I watch him as he disappears around the corner, smiling at him and admiring the view.

“So what’s his name?”

I jerk back, startled, as Chase slides into the seat across from me—the seat Ashton just vacated. The bruising on his face looks even worse today. He looks like something out of a horror movie.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss at him, my chest tightening.

“I think I at least deserve to know his name, don’t you?” Chase’s lip curls in an angry sneer as he says it. “So tell me. What’s the name of the man you’re whoring yourself out for now?”

“How dare you,” I seethe, the fury in my voice rising.

“How dare I?” Chase places his palms flat on the table, leaning toward me, and I flinch back reflexively. “How dareyou? You think your little stunt at Katie’s was cute? Slapping me like that?”

“I think it’s better than you deserve.”

“Careful, Sydney,” Chase says in a low voice. “No one likes an angry woman.”

It’s a phrase he’s thrown in my face since our first big fight. A phrase that’s never failed to make me do what I’m told.

“I saw you, you know,” Chase says, smirking as I back down. “You and Mr. Movie Star, back in your shop. Didn’t take you long to shove your hand down his pants, did it?”

My heart stutters in my chest.He saw us. He was watching me.

“Are you following me?” I ask. I can’t keep the tremor of fear out of my voice when I say it.

Chase’s smile is anything but friendly. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. Guess you’ll find out.”

“I’m getting a restraining order,” I tell him, my voice hardening. “I’m sick of this, Chase. I want you out of my life for good.”

“And you think a little piece of paper is going to stop me?” he taunts, leaning closer. I feel untethered, lost, as he forces himself into my personal space. “I’m done playing nice, Sydney.”

“You were never nice, Chase,” I say. “Not to me.”

Rage flickers in his eyes. And the way he smiles then chills me to my core.

“You’re going to regret fucking with me,” Chase promises.

Fear. Acidic, dizzying fear sweeps through me, and?—