Barbed wire?
On the left side, I hook his foot with my own and, with my free foot, plant it flat on the ground. Using my foot as leverage, I push my hips violently upward toward the ceiling and turn my head to the left. Utilizing the momentum, I roll my attacker onto his back, gaining the upper hand.
I return a few punches of my own to his middle and his face. He holds his arms up with his forearms together, creating a shield.
In the split second between punches, he wraps his arms around my torso and pulls me to his chest, burying his head into my shoulder. He tries to perform the same move I did, but I widened my knees to prevent the switch.
A fast learner.
He switches his tactics and pulls my weight over his shoulder, throwing me off balance and rolling me under him.
He draws his fists back, ready to exchange blows again. But before he can lower his fist to my body, a female enraged cry catches my attention, and a smaller form tackles him from the side just like he did to me moments earlier.
A wave of acid wells up in my stomach as I realize that Blake has come to my defense. “No!”
Rushing to my feet, I don't make it in time to the lake before the man throws her off of him, her body making a loud thump on the hard floor.
Blake doesn't move.
For the first time in my life since I was fourteen years old, I freeze.
I'll never forgive myself for this moment of hesitation—for this moment of fear.
Instead of avenging Blake, I let our attacker run out, and I hurry to her side. “Blake? Blake, are you okay? Butterfly, I need you to talk to me.”
A pained groan rumbles in Blake's throat, and she rolls onto her back. “That hurt like a bitch.”
My hands hover above her body, afraid to touch her and make her pain worse. “Don't you ever do that again.”
Blake pushes herself up onto her elbows. “Don't save your life? Sure. Next time I'll just let you get hurt.”
“You're infuriating,” I growl.
Needing to remind myself that she's OK, I place my hands on her cheeks and guide her mouth to mine.
It's a kiss of comfort—of solace.
Releasing her lips, I rest my forehead on hers. “Please don't do that to me. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you because of me.”
She shakes her head. “I can't promise you that. I will always step in when someone I care about is being hurt.” Sighing, she sits all the way up, and I give her the space to do so. “Who was that?”
“I don't know. I couldn't see his face.” Staring off in the direction he left, I rub my eyes. “But I get the feeling he wasn’t here for me.”
Blake’s head drops to an angle. “What do you mean?”
“In any attack, you take out the biggest threat first,” I explain.
Blake brushes off my theory and eyes me as I pull out my phone. “You're going to call Walk, aren't you?” she groans.
I quirk a brow at her. “If you know the answer, why ask the question?”
Rising to her feet, she brushes off her pants, and I stand with her. “I already have one overprotective man with me,” Blake gestures to me, “I'm not looking forward to encountering another right now.”
“Well then prepare yourself,” I chuckle, “because I'm calling two more.”
Blake gives me an irritated glare but doesn't say a word.
I'm still trying to keep the moment light for her, even though there was an intruder in the clinic.
