Chapter 1 #2
An ache spread through my body as memories resurfaced—each punch, kick, and slap he’d sent my way. Gary.
I couldn’t stop him and Mom never tried. Why didn’t she try?
These bastards weren’t any different from my uncle. They were all bullies who preyed on the weak. I wouldn’t let them win, just like I didn’t give Gary a victory.
“You . . . prick,” I gasped out. “Go f-fuck yourself.”
The jerk grabbed the front of my coat, straightening me so I could look at him. He sneered at me. His face wasn’t so handsome anymore—how could it be when he was such an asshole?
“You’re a piece of shit. You pollute our city. Get out and find a job like the rest of us.”
I laughed. “Like the rest of you? I bet you haven’t worked a day in your life.” I spat at him. A glob of my saliva landed on his cheek.
The other two hovered behind him, but they weren’t laughing anymore. Fear passed over their faces. Clearly they hadn’t expected their friend to go this far.
The jerk wiped my spit off with the back of his hand and his gaze burned in rage.
I closed my eyes. When a fist hit my cheek, I wasn’t surprised.
He held my coat tight so I couldn’t fall backward, and another punch landed against my face, right beside my mouth.
The blows came fast, at least five of them, before he let me fall to the ground.
I didn’t make a noise the entire time because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
I wouldn’t. I didn’t give it to Gary, and I wouldn’t give it to this idiot, either.
I crashed onto the snow. At least this time I didn’t fall on my hands.
Blood gushed from cuts on my face, oozing down my cheek and jaw.
I could already feel my face swelling, the bruises forming beneath my skin.
Everything hurt. The pain was searing heat, a throbbing that spread across my face and made my head ache.
I kept my lips pursed. They were bleeding, too.
Warm liquid caught between them, the tangy taste of blood staining my tongue.
“Paul, stop this,” Idiot One said.
The jerk—Paul, apparently—stabbed a finger at him. “Shut up, Billy.”
Billy glanced at Idiot Two. “Cal, we should leave.”
Paul bared his teeth at them. “If you fuckers leave, I’ll make your life hell.”
He took a step closer to me, and I held his glare, unwilling to look away. I wouldn’t let him see the dread that curled in my gut or the way my heart thumped against my rib cage in fear. His boot came down onto my chest, pinning me to the ground.
“Say sorry.” He grinned smugly.
I let my lips curl into a smile. “Go fuck yourself.”
Paul’s mouth twisted in anger. His hands curled into fists again, and I took a deep, shuddering breath, readying myself for more pain.
A shadow, tall and foreboding, moved up behind him. Before I knew what was happening, the stranger swung something, striking the back of Paul’s head. Deep red blood sprayed through the air, splattering across my face and the white snow around me.
Paul’s body collapsed forward with the force of the attack, crumpling to the ground beside me. He landed facing me, and his wide, desperate—lifeless—eyes stared through me. He didn’t move. He was still.
Dead.
My breath stuttered, my heart skipping a beat.
The stranger loomed above me, the bloody baseball bat held loosely in his hand.
The light from the snow glowed around him, illuminating his sharp, handsome face, strong, bearded jaw, and blue eyes.
I sucked in what air I could get into my frozen lungs, opening my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Was he going to kill me next?
When the stranger faced the other two men, they spun on their heels and stumbled over each other.
They didn’t get far. The man with the baseball bat pulled out what looked like a small dart gun.
The silver weapon glinted in the light reflection from the snow.
He was on point with his target. He caught Cal in the leg with a dart, causing him to collapse with a wounded cry.
Cal grabbed Billy’s arm on the way down. “Help me,” he pleaded, tugging on his friend’s sleeve.
“Let go!” Billy snapped. He ripped his arm out of the tight grasp and turned to run, but by that time the stranger already had the gun loaded with another clear dart with green liquid inside and shot, landing it in Billy’s ass cheek. He cried out, crumpling on the snow just like Cal had.
The stranger dropped the bloody bat and gun, then strode toward them with a confident swagger.
He grabbed Billy by the collar and crouched in front of him.
I didn’t know what he said or if he said anything at all, but Billy whimpered out “please” and “no” until his eyes closed like he’d fallen asleep.
My gaze swept to Cal, but he’d already passed out.
I was stuck in something out of a horror movie.
My arms were frozen, locked around my body.
Goose bumps prickled along my skin as every morsel of me focused on the man in front of me.
The sexy stranger who saved me. Even if I wanted to move, I couldn’t.
I was rooted to the spot, my fingers tingling, caught in an out-of-body experience.
The stranger stood and made his way toward me.
I held my breath. Was this how I was going to die? Who would care if that happened? Maybe Mrs. Lyle would notice I was missing.
He squatted beside Paul’s very dead body and swiped a forefinger over his face where the blood had gathered at the side of his forehead.
He raised his finger and rubbed the blood between his middle digit and thumb, studying the deep red liquid with an interest that sent a shiver of fear down my spine.
I stared, mouth parted. Fuck. I was going to die. He’d put me down like a rabid animal.
The stranger stood again, wiped the blood on his pants, and held out his hand to me.
I glanced from his palm to his face, which I could see better now that he was closer.
He was handsome in an unconventional way.
Snowflakes fluttered around him, some landing on a nose that looked a little too big on his face.
His cheekbones were sharper than blades and he had luscious pink lips that curved in a reassuring smile.
His eyes were dark in the globe of reflecting snow lights.
Curly hair, too. I liked curly hair, especially when it was like his—streaked with some grays on the sides of his head.
What was wrong with me?
This man just murdered someone in front of me and could kill me, too, yet I was checking him out. Maybe that jerk hit me harder than I’d thought.
The stranger thrust his hand at me again and nodded at it.
I hesitantly slipped my palm into his and let him help me stand. He took my elbow with his other hand, leading me toward the house. He kicked open the door and directed me inside, before switching on the lights.
The interior was as nice as the outside. Warmth spread through the small hallway and the sound of a flickering fire reached my ears. I breathed in the earthy wood smell. It’d been a long time since I’d been near a fireplace, and I soaked in the heat.
He switched on the lights.
The house was quaint inside, with powder blue walls and a tiled entranceway that led straight into a dining area and kitchen.
The kitchen had dark pine cupboards and stainless steel appliances, and an island in the center.
The dining room was just as nice, with the same powder blue walls as the hallway.
The table and chairs were a similar color as the cupboards.
A hutch sat against the wall, but other than that, there wasn’t much else in the room.
Everything was clean. Almost too clean to be lived in.
It was a minimalist’s dream, and I noticed there weren’t any photos.
I’d expected a few in a house like this.
The stranger led me to one of the chairs near the dining room table and helped me sit down.
Now that we were in bright light, I studied him carefully.
He was even more attractive than I’d first thought.
He had brown curls, bouncy ringlets that I was almost tempted to run my fingers through, and liquid blue eyes, the kind that made you melt if you stared for too long.
His face was carved like it was made from marble, with sharp cheekbones and a perfectly sculpted jaw.
He tilted his head toward me.
I flushed at being caught staring. How embarrassing. “Who are you?”
The stranger blinked and turned his back on me.
He headed out of the room, and I waited, my gaze drifting.
I could run, but then what? It was cold outside and those three jerks weren’t the only ones who were cruel.
I’d lived my late teenage years on the streets, and it was the same torment every day.
This was different.
He was different.
Out there, in the cold air and pretty snow that turned into muddy puddles, I was scum. Forgotten. Here. . . maybe I had a chance to be something else. Was that crazy?
The back door slammed open and closed, and I stilled. Waiting like a goddamn lamb about to be slaughtered. Then I heard the door again and I could breathe, air pushing out of my lungs. The sink turned on and off, and I wondered if he’d moved the bodies so they weren’t in clear view.
He returned after a while, a first aid kit in his hands, as well as my backpack.
He dumped the red bag on the table and opened it, while I grabbed my backpack and unzipped it.
I glanced inside, finding stale bread, a holey raincoat, and a battered ID that one of the shelters had helped me get.
With a sigh of relief, I dropped my bag onto the floor again.
“Thank you for getting this.” I pointed at the backpack.
He gave me a small smile.