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“No, that’s silly. You’ve been on hold forever waiting to talk to a representative. You know as well as I do that the moment we set the phone down and walk outside, they’ll pick up and then hang up because you’re not there.”
He gives me a look, one that says he totally agrees with my statement, but doesn’t like it. Nick is a great guy and always escorts his employees out at night. This isn’t sitting well with him, that I can tell.
“I’ll be fine. My car is literally right outside the back door. What could happen?” I ask, giving him a carefree, worry-free smile.
“Text me when you’re home safe,” he concedes, dropping back down into his chair.
“Will do, Bossman,” I salute.
Just as I go to wish him a goodnight, he starts talking to whoever finally picked up on the other end of the phone. I throw him another wave and head toward the back door, flipping off a few of the lights as I go.
When I slip out the door, car keys in hand, I notice how dark and quiet it is. The days are getting longer as summer approaches, but for some reason tonight, it just appears darker than normal. Maybe it’s the storm blowing in that has my hair swirling around my head and shadows dancing on the concrete. The rest of the businesses in the area are closed up, which leaves only Nick’s car and mine in the small lot.
As I approach my car, parking in the back row, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and a weird feeling sweeps through my body, making my blood run cold. I double click the key fob to unlock my door and pick up the pace. Just as my hand grabs the handle, movement catches out of the corner of my eye. When I turn, a strong arm wraps around my body, while the second wraps around my neck.
Gasping, I drop my keys and purse and reach for the arm that’s restricting my airway.
“Shhhh, don’t do anything that’ll get ya hurt, ‘kay?” the man breathes against my ear, making bile rise in my throat.
“What do you want?” I gasp, my nails digging into his forearm.
“Just some cash, sweet thing. You got anything good in that big bag of yours?”
Again, I wiggle in his grasp, trying to steal a full breath of fresh air. “Cash. I have a few…bucks.”
“Let’s bend down and get it, shall we?” he says, bending us both over and reaching for my purse. He sets it on my hood, and with one arm still wrapped around my neck, starts to riffle through my belongings.
As he holds me against his body, I can smell the alcohol on his breath and the gasoline on his clothes. His voice doesn’t sound familiar, but we have enough tourists who travel through Jupiter Bay that there’s no way of knowing everyone in town.
The stranger pulls my wallet from my bag and slips it into his shirt, tossing the rest of my belongings over my car and into the bushes. “You sure are a pretty little thing, aren’t you? You feeling lonely tonight?” he asks, sliding his nose down my jaw.
I’m going to throw up. My vision starts to blur, a combination of being short of oxygen and fear. I start to twist, ready to fight my way out of this situation, when I’m pressed hard against my car. My head slams into the unforgiving metal, which sends pain ricocheting through my body. Just as he starts to loosen his hold on my neck and spin me around, I’m falling. Falling to the ground, slamming my knees and hands onto the gravelly, cold asphalt.
I gasp for air, ignoring the ache in my knees and the burn of the exposed flesh of my hands. The sound of a grunt, followed by something hard hitting bone grabs my attention. When I glance up, I see the man who grabbed me on the ground, his legs and arms protectively, and slightly awkwardly, extended in front of him.
And there’s Nick.
Standing over the man, his fists balled up at his sides and breathing fire.
“Nick?” I whisper in a voice that doesn’t sound like mine.
As soon as he glances down at me, his eyes soften and his shoulders relax. That’s also when the man on the ground jumps up and tries to make a break for it. Nick reaches for him with reflexes so quick, I almost miss the movement. He spins him around and kicks out one leg, sweeping the man off his feet and sending him hurtling to the ground.
The man moans in pain. “You broke my wrist!”
“Your wrist should be the least of your worries,” Nick replies, his voice husky and threatening.
I watch as he holds the perpetrator down by applying pressure to the groaning man’s chest with his foot. Nick is still wearing his work attire, his tie loosened around his neck and the two top buttons popped open. He glances my way once more, his eyes full of concern and sorrow.
“Meg, are you okay?” he asks, the man twisting in agony beneath the pressure of his foot. I hear him say the words, but I can’t seem to open my mouth to reply. My heart pounds in my chest like a snare drum and my vision is a little fuzzy. I can’t seem to get enough oxygen in my lungs. It’s like I’m here, but not really. I’m floating around the scene, not in my own body. “I’m going to call 911 and as soon as the police get here, we’re going to get you checked out, okay, honey? Stay with me, Meghan.”
His voice is soothing and soft. It sounds nothing like the voice that spoke just a few moments ago when he was knocking the man to the ground and threatening to do more damage than a broken wrist.
My stomach lurches and I scramble for the bushes. Ignoring the pain in my knees and palms, I crawl past my car and lose whatever contents were left from my lunch with my sisters. My eyes burn from the tears, my throat raw from emotions. I can hear Nick talking, but don’t understand what he’s saying. I try to focus on the words, on his voice. After a few moments, my body starts to relax.
It could be five seconds or five hours later, the sound of an approaching ambulance fills the empty night. A car pulls into the lot, lights blinding and carrying a speed a bit too fast for a parking lot. But I don’t care. I don’t have the energy to move.
A minute later, he’s there.
