Paige #3
His lips crash into mine with a passion that leaves me breathless. He takes what I’ve started and proves that he truly is the one in control and I’m along for the blissfully beautiful ride. When he pulls away, it takes me several slow blinks to register that we are not alone.
“Hayes,” I say quickly, patting his back in my growing alarm.
He turns quickly and sees the man creeping closer, light from the streetlight glinting off the knife he holds at his side.
Hayes shoves me into the car and stands in front of the door.
I’m too freaked at the moment to care about the unceremonious movement, but it registers that he’s doing it for my safety.
“Nice ride, man. Gimme the keys.”
“You’re fucking with the wrong guy tonight. Walk away and this is over. Step closer and I’ll end you,” Hayes growls.
“Not how this works when I got the knife,” the man replies, thrusting the weapon between them.
Hayes kicks out, his long leg making contact with the man’s fist and sending the knife clanging to the ground.
The man lunges for Hayes, his fist swinging out and catching him in the ribs.
Hayes gives a grunt of pain but shoves the man away and kicks again, catching him in the stomach and doubling him over.
In a flash, he’s back up and swinging wildly.
Hayes dodges one fist but catches the other to his ribs and I scream as the thud echoes in my head.
Hayes pushes the man and follows so they’re out of sight.
I dig through my purse blindly while searching for the men around the car.
My fingers close around my cell and I pull it out, fumbling to get my fingerprint to register.
I shake so badly it’s hard to pull up my keypad to dial 911.
I have never struggled so much to dial three numbers correctly, but after several attempts, I press the call button and hope to God they answer and can get here quickly.
I hear another thud and I’m not sure who took the hit this time.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency,” the dispatcher says.
“Please help! There’s a man trying to steal our car.”
I look up as the scrape of metal against concrete rings ominously in the air.
“Oh my God, he’s got a knife. He’s going to hurt Hayes.”
“What’s your location?” she asks calmly.
“Um, it’s the Buckhead area.” I look around for any indication of street names but see the sign for the restaurant instead. “We’re outside of Napoletana Pizza, near Peachtree and Piedmont,” I say, finally remembering the cross streets.
“Officers are responding. They will be there shortly. Stay on the line.”
I listen for sounds of the fight but it’s grown quiet and I hope to God Hayes isn’t lying hurt and the attacker’s taken off.
“I can’t see them anymore,” I say, scanning through what I can see of the lot.
“Ma’am, do not go looking for them. Stay where you are safe,” the dispatcher cautions, but I’m already out of the car and looking around wildly.
“Oh my God, they’re gone. Hayes!” I shout, my head whipping around in search of where they could have gone.
“Ma’am, officers are less than a minute away, do not get involved.”
I scan the parking area and see an alley behind the building. I hear sirens wailing in the distance as I run toward the alley and pray I won’t find Hayes in a heap.
“Please, please, please,” I beg quietly.
“Ma’am, officers are almost at your location, do not leave,” the dispatcher says, just as I enter the dark alley.
“Hayes!” I scream again, listening to my voice bounce off the walls.
“Right here,” he answers from midway down the alley, kneeling on the ground in the shadows.
“Oh, thank God!” I turn toward him in relief.
“Paige, stay there!” he calls sharply, halting my steps.
“Ma’am, officers are looking for you, please make contact,” the dispatcher instructs me.
I freeze in indecision, wanting to run to Hayes but needing to find the officers.
“The police are here,” I call down the alley.
“Go to them, honey. I’m okay,” he says quietly.
I turn and run out of the alley, red and blue lights lighting up the parking lot as four officers turn toward me, weapons drawn. “I’m here, I called!” I yell, my hands going up in the air as my phone drops to the concrete. The screen cracks, but the call is still live.
“They’re down the alley,” I say, my voice shaking as one officer moves toward me, pistol outstretched while the other three move toward the alley behind me.
A voice comes through his radio spouting codes and words I can’t follow, and he lowers his weapon.
“Ma’am, come with me, please.” He beckons me toward him and I follow, even though my heart is stuck in the alley with Hayes.
It feels like hours as I sit in the police car, recounting the events as best I can for the officer while I shake and search for any sign of Hayes.
When an ambulance arrives, I bolt upright and scream for Hayes, but the officer keeps me with him.
The stretcher that comes back ten minutes later is carrying a man, but the paramedics are working over him and I can’t see if it’s Hayes.
I break down, cold tears streaming down my face as I sob hysterically.
I wail Hayes’s name and wish this were a horrible dream I could wake up from.