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He didn’t even get to say his insult.
I jumped as Cruz was on him, and by on him, he was on him. He went at him, his hand going to Flynn’s throat. He hit him in the back of his leg. As Flynn toppled, Cruz went with him, but he wasn’t choking him. Cruz took Flynn’s arm. He flipped over, bringing Flynn with him, and tossed his body across the beach.
Cruz was after him once again.
He was moving so fast. Flynn’s friends stared, their mouths open.
I cursed but rushed forward and grabbed Angela. I pulled her away, just as Flynn tried to fight back. He threw a punch, but Cruz laughed. He laughed, as he dodged, grabbing Flynn’s arm and he did a whole-body twist again, sending Flynn in the complete opposite direction.
I got it then, what he was doing.
He was using the beach and the motion to fuck Flynn up, but he wasn’t hitting him. There was no physical normal confrontation where his friends would’ve instinctually moved in to pull him off and then it’d be four against one, or two because I would’ve waded in no matter my size or gender. This way, the guys didn’t know what to do and Cruz was landing punches, but he was doing it in a way where no one knew how to handle him.
He knew what he was doing.
I let out a breath, some relief lightening my chest as Cruz grabbed Flynn and lifted him up. They were by a cliff wall, and he slammed Flynn against it. They were far enough away so we couldn’t hear what was being said, but Flynn was struggling, trying to get free.
Cruz was still again, eerily almost frozen like a statue until slowly, inch by inch, he leaned in, his face next to Flynn’s. He was saying something, and whatever it was, Flynn stopped fighting.
Cruz waited, another beat, until he stepped back.
Flynn dropped to the sand, a hand rubbing at his throat, as he lifted his head to look at Cruz.
Cruz said one more thing. I strained to hear but couldn’t. The crashing waves seemed perfectly timed. He looked toward me, his head jerking, and he took a full step backwards, dragging in a breath. He started for me.
Flynn’s friends didn’t run to him. They seemed frozen until Cruz got closer. They stumbled back a step. One went running to Flynn.
Cruz stared at me, his chest heaving. He was fighting for control. I saw the rage simmering in his gaze, and moved into action. I began putting our things away, as fast as possible. Cruz didn’t move. His hands were in fists, pressed tight against his legs, and he was staring at me.
I paused, holding his gaze.
I was his lifeline right now.
I approached, slowly, a hand up. “Cruz,” I murmured.
“I want to fucking—” His voice grated out. “One look from him. One–I want to turn around and end him.”
I’d seen Cruz fight on the ice. He never fought in a clear and obvious way. You couldn’t in college hockey, but he still did. The other teams felt it and especially when he was pissed off. He turned into another being in the rink, and I saw him go after Ruiz at the bar, but this guy, this Cruz was another beast entirely.
Angela was sniffling next to us.
“What are you doing here?” I asked her.
“I didn’t know. I didn’t–I wasn’t thinking.”
Dread lined my insides.
Flynn turned to walk backwards, his smirk a half grin. “You should know that more than anyone, Kressup. How’s your girl? Oh wait…” The grin was gone, and it was just a smirk in its place.
Wade tensed. “You mean Rosa, the girl I liked before she woke up in your bed, naked and no memory how she got there? That girl? Who was so devastated after her medical exam that she quit school and moved back home?”
He picked her on purpose.
I looked at her more closely, but Cruz, he couldn’t. His eyes were only on me, like he couldn’t… A different foreboding sensation began to flood me. Cruz saw something I hadn’t. He was pissed, but he snapped and–I turned, more fully, taking in Angela in a whole different light.
She was still crying, but there were old tears dried on her face.
Her shirt was torn. Grass stains on her shorts and on her legs.
Her hair was a wreck.
There was blood at her mouth. Swollen eye. Bruised cheek.
Horror filled me.
She had one nail chipped. One nail was missing. The side of her entire hand was swelling up even as I looked at it, and it was bright red.
She had one sandal, one. The other was gone.
There was more. More scrapes. More bruises.
And she kept sobbing during my perusal.
“Babe,” Cruz choked out.
I swung my head to him.
His mouth was white around his lips. “I need to get the fuck out of here.”
