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One by one they leave the bar and I let out a sigh of relief then hurry over to Mandy and hug her.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
Leaning back, I say, “We should call the police and tell them I’m okay.”
Mandy laughs. “I wasn’t recording.”
“What?”
“Nah, I just wanted them to leave.” Mandy hugs me, then steps back. “You really should hire someone to see you out at night.”
“I’ll put it on my list.”
Mandy winks at me and opens the door to the bar, then sticks her head out. “No one is out here except Tex on his bike. Looks like someone’s getting lucky tonight.”
“I’ve had enough fun.”
Mandy shakes her head and picks up empty glasses from tables around the room. For now, she says nothing, and we close up together.
It takes half the time it normally does and when everything is ready for tomorrow, Mandy again sticks her head outside.
“No creeps, but Tex is still out here.”
“I’m going to sneak out the back.”
“Girl! He’s a good guy, and he’s hot.”
“And I have no time or inclination to get involved with anyone.”
Mandy tilts her head to the side. “Liar.” She opens the door wider and steps outside, then turns and says, “Lock the door. See you tomorrow.”
Hurrying to the doors, I lock them, then grab my purse, and leave through the back. My key is in the lock, I turn it then tug on the door to make sure it’s locked. My home isn’t far from the bar and as I walk past the end of the building, Ricky, Snake, and their buddies stumble out of the darkness.
“Stay back,” I command, voice quavering with fear.
“Come on, Jane, let’s go for a ride.” Snake’s words are slurred, his smile sinister. He reaches out, fingers grasping at nothing as I sidestep, propelled by the sudden urgency in the air.
“Stop dreaming, Snake. You’ll never catch me,” I throw back over my shoulder, as I attempt to walk through them. “Come any closer and you’ll regret it.”
Ricky laughs and grabs my arm. “Come on, Jane. Let’s have some fun.”
“Help!” The word rips from my throat, raw and desperate.
Ricky’s sneer freezes as the ground trembles beneath us, and the growl of an engine cuts through the air like a blade. From the corner of my eye, I see headlights flare, casting elongated shadows that snake their way to where we stand.
“Wha—” Ricky’s bravado withers in the face of the unchained fury that rounds the corner.
“Move!” The command is thunderous over the roar of the engine, and it’s Texas at the helm, his jaw set, eyes ablaze with an unspoken promise. His motorcycle, a black phantom, barrels toward us like judgement on wheels.
“Nobody touches her,” Tex’s deep voice rumbles, slicing through the tension thick as tar.
Each twist of the throttle is a symphony of raw energy, a battle cry that reverberates through the frame of the bike and into the marrow of my bones. The sound fills my senses, drowning out the cruel laughter and lewd jeers.
“Damn,” one of them mutters, and I can hear the uncertainty creep into their voices as they too sense the tide turning, the balance of power shifting.
“Shit!” Snake’s voice cracks, his usual cool demeanor shattering as he stumbles backward.
