“Get over here, right now!” the man snapped, ignoring Everett entirely. He lunged around the motorcycle and grabbed the little girl by her thin wrist, yanking her forward so hard her feet nearly left the pavement.
The child let out a sharp cry of pain.
Everett dropped the gas nozzle. It hit the side of the pump with a loud metallic clank. He took one heavy step forward, placing his enormous frame between the man and the girl.
“Ease up,” Everett said. His voice was a low, gravelly rumble that barely carried over the highway traffic, but it carried enough weight to make a normal man step back.
The man in the polo shirt didn’t step back. He looked Everett up and down, his lips curling into a sneer of absolute disgust. “Mind your own business, trash. This is my daughter, and you’re standing in my way.”
The mother finally reached them, gasping for breath. She reached out, her hands shaking as she tried to touch the man’s arm. “Richard, please, you’re hurting her. Just let her go back in her car seat—”