Chapter 9 #2
He came around the back of the aisle and stared at the punk near Jayme.
He’d turned toward the group of women toward the front of the store who were screaming.
From what Rocket could see, the group had actually jumped one of the would-be robbers.
An alarm blared through the store, obviously set off by the clerk.
The third gunman yelled, “fuck this,” then took off running for the door.
Everything in the store was in complete chaos, and the last thing Rocket wanted was the gunman nearest Jayme to start shooting his weapon to try to gain control. Just as he had the thought, the man lifted his hand, the one holding the weapon.
Rocket’s heart nearly stopped beating in his chest when he turned toward Jayme. His hand was shaking as if he was scared to death. But before Rocket could act, a flash of light appeared from the muzzle of the pistol.
Then Rocket was on him. They both slammed to the hard tile floor and the pistol went skittering away as the young man lost his grip.
Without hesitation, Rocket punched him once.
Then twice. Then a third time. The man had dared to hold a weapon toward Jayme.
He’d shot at her. No one did that and got away with it. Not on his watch.
The man beneath him fought back, but was no match for Rocket’s size, strength, and anger.
“Rocket! Stop! He’s down.”
The words barely registered. Rocket’s adrenaline was coursing through his veins and he couldn’t get the look of absolute fright on Jayme’s face out of his mind.
It wasn’t until he felt a hand on the side of his face, a touch he recognized at a soul deep level, that he stopped, his fist half-cocked and ready to slam down into the asshole’s face once more.
“Rocket, I’m okay. We’re all okay.”
Looking up, Rocket saw his Jayme staring at him with a mixture of concern and terror on her face.
That did it. He turned away from the punk, now unconscious on the floor, and hauled Jayme into him. She came without hesitation. Without a second thought. Pressing against him as if she could burrow into his skin and become one with him.
He lifted a knee and shuffled to the side of the man he’d beaten and fell onto his ass, still holding Jayme to him.
“I’m okay,” she mumbled into his neck. “I’m okay.”
Rocket couldn’t speak. Could barely see. All he could do was feel. Things could’ve gone so differently. His own actions could’ve gotten Jayme killed. But he couldn’t not run toward her. He’d almost been too late. He could’ve lost her before they’d even begun to live their lives together.
Vaguely, Rocket heard people moving around him.
Someone found some rope and tied up the man he’d subdued.
Someone else was on a phone with 9-1-1. But Rocket still couldn’t move.
It was as if he were paralyzed. Blinking, he saw the glass of the cold case had shattered and was in pieces on the floor around them.
A woman was crying hysterically nearby and being comforted by another customer.
It was chaos…and all he could do was sit where he was and feel Jayme’s heart beating against his chest. He’d never felt anything better in all his life.
When Rocket had been in the Navy, he’d experienced times when he was scared.
There were a few times when the ship he was on had been locked down because of the threat of incoming missiles, but in the end, nothing had ever happened.
But that didn’t mean the fear hadn’t been intense when they were waiting for the all clear.
But he’d never been as scared as he’d been a minute ago.
Seeing Jayme on the receiving end of the muzzle of a gun had been the most frightened he’d ever been in his life.
He couldn’t live without her. Now that he’d found her, Rocket knew without a doubt that losing her would make him a shell of the man.
She was his better half, and he damn well knew it.
“Rocket?” He heard her say his name, but all he could do was shake his head and bury his nose harder into the velvety skin between her shoulder and neck. Her thick hair tickled his face, but he didn’t care.
“You’re hurting me,” she whispered.
He immediately loosened his grasp and pulled back to look at her. It was the only thing she could’ve said that would’ve made him let go. He’d never hurt her. He’d rather die first.
The first thing he saw was that her pupils were dilated to twice their usual size.
Her face was white, and she was frowning.
Then he saw the blood. It wasn’t a lot, but there was a small stream of bright red blood oozing down the side of her temple.
“You’re bleeding,” he whispered, knowing he was probably in shock.
Jayme lifted a hand to wipe her face, but Rocket caught it before she could touch herself.
“Is it bad?” she asked.
“No.” It wasn’t, but still, seeing even a drop of Jayme’s blood was horrifying.
“I think when the case shattered, some of the glass must’ve hit me,” she said softly.
“You weren’t shot?” Rocket asked, belatedly realizing that should’ve been the first thing he did…check her for serious injuries.
“No. At least I don’t think so.”
Rocket immediately began to run his hands over her body, checking for gunshot wounds. When she didn’t flinch away from his touch, and he didn’t find any more blood, he breathed out a sigh of relief.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Me?” he said in confusion.
She picked up one of his hands and held it gently. “Your poor hands,” she said softly.
Rocket didn’t give a shit about the condition of his hands. As far as he was concerned, he’d wear his scrapes and bruises with pride. Besides, his hands were always nicked and beaten up because of his job. Not to mention stained with the oil he was constantly getting all over them at the garage.
“Nobody move!” a harsh voice ordered from near the door.
Turning his head, Rocket saw a police officer standing just inside the door with his weapon drawn.
Taking a deep breath, he did his best to get control of his body and mind once more.
Jayme was all right. As was he. It would take some time for the officers to figure out what had gone down tonight, but he had no doubt the videos would exonerate him for nearly killing the man still lying unconscious nearby.
Jayme was safe. Nothing else mattered.