CHAPTER ELEVEN
Darby
The day wore on. I knew I had to start getting ready to go back to work. I had only three more days here in Wyoming. Weirdly, even though that had once been something that made me mad – I hated the idea of having to spend more time here than strictly-speaking necessary – I regretted that.
I could have done with a few more days.
I had only just met Jared. There was so much more I needed to work through before I could leave. Not that I was planning to see him again – not exactly. I just wanted time to calm down. Recenter my brain.
This was just an idyll. A sweet, pleasant break from everyday life. I had to get back to work.
I answered emails that morning. There were about eight of them from work. I had to finish a report, and I did that too. By mid-afternoon my head was throbbing. I could hear my cousins in the yard and my aunt was in the kitchen below my room, making some dinner preparations. I stretched. It was five o' clock.
Time to go for a walk.
I had been sitting in one place for too long. I stood and stretched, feeling a few cracks and creaks as my muscles warmed up. I rolled my shoulders, heading for the door.
The days tended to become a bit fresh toward evening, so I took my leather jacket – a pretty slate-blue one that matched nicely with my jeans and dusty rose shirt. I headed down the street. I was thinking of Jared. I pushed the thoughts angrily away, refusing to give them any airtime.
I was walking along aimlessly when I realized I was probably on the wrong end of town. Looking around, the place gave off a decidedly seedy sense: the paint was peeling on the buildings, there was trash on the pavement and there were cafés with neon signs that looked like they hadn't been repaired in twenty years. I shivered.
Hell, Darby. You do look for trouble.
I was alone and had a big, conspicuous purse over my shoulder and my jacket was too small to hide it under. I was wearing pumps, at least, so I could probably run. I turned around and walked briskly back the way I'd come. How had I not noticed what a shady area I was in? The road out seemed to stretch back for ages, so I must have been here for quite a while.
Heart thumping, I walked more briskly. I heard voices.
“Yeah, Leo! We believe you.”
Laughter. It sounded like drunken laughter.
“You should,” someone added, swearing so creatively that I blushed.
An angry yell followed, and the sound of a thump. The voices were coming toward me. I froze.
“Hey! That'll show you. I...”
The crowd rounded the corner. They saw me. All conversation stopped. I tensed, flinching.
Somehow I must have taken a wrong turn, because the road had petered out into a long bare trackway bordered on one side by a wall. There was rank grass in the paving and an unpleasant smell.
I breathed in and faced down the gang who faced me. There were three of them.
The main guy – I assumed he was the main guy, since he was in the middle of the group – looked at me with an unpleasant, narrow-eyed intensity.
One of the other guys cat-called.
There were three of them, dressed in old t-shirts and grubby jeans, one with overalls on. They looked unwashed, uncouth and rough. And dangerous. There was that blank, hard look in their eyes that suggested they were the kind who would kill if they felt like it. During my years of experience as a lawyer I'd seen guys with that look in court for violent offenses. My heart started to pound.
“Hey, Sean,” one of the guys said. He made a gesture with his hand. Two of them stepped forward.
I wanted to run but I couldn't. I wanted to scream but my throat closed up with nerves. I wanted to do something, but thought was impossible. At the last minute, as they neared, my body took over. I ran.
They caught me. I fell, screaming in complete terror.
“Gimme that.”
One of the guys took my handbag. I felt it slip down my arm and the lightness as it was removed.
I nodded. I was sitting against the wall, knees drawn to my chest, and I was crying, tears of raw terror pouring down my cheeks.
“Please,” I said. “Just take it. Take it and let me go.” I nodded, smiling through the tears. “Take it. Please.”
I didn't care about my phone, my wallet, the expensive purse. I just wanted to be safe.
One of them made a sound that could have been laughter.
“Why'd we do that?”
“Please,” I sobbed. “It's...wrong. You don't want to do this. You don't...”
Whatever I was going to say, and whatever they would have said, dissolved very rapidly in the sound of a cry.
As I watched, scrabbling backward and upright, screaming again, the scene dissolved into confusion. The man who had been standing looking down at me suddenly fell away, a blow striking him down. Then he was fighting back, hitting out at the guy who had him on the ground, punching him with a fearful savagery I had never encountered before.
“No!” I screamed. It was Jared. He was going to kill the man.
And the others might kill him. The leader's face had darkened and he kicked Jared savagely in the ribs. I heard him grunt, but he kept on hitting the guy on the ground in front of him. He was vicious with it, his fists slamming into his head.
The other two guys started to attack him in earnest, kicking and hitting. He finished with the guy on the ground and stood. His face was bloody from where a kick had connected with his nose and his lip was swelling. One eye looked up at me and he inclined his head to the side. A blow connected his other eye and I stared, horrified, watching him stagger back as the other guy kicked his legs. When he looked up at me, staggering, his one eye was already swollen closed.
As the guy kicked him behind the legs again I screamed and ran forward, throwing my weight at him.
“Stop it! Get off... go!”
I was screaming incoherently now. The guy turned around and threw a punch at me. It hit my arm and I hissed, staggering back. It felt harder than anything I imagined.
“Darby!” Jared screamed. He was fighting with the other guy. I saw the guy who faced me laugh and I felt very real fear.
Just then, the street erupted into chaos.
“Gerrof!” someone yelled.
“Out!”
“Go on. Get away!”
Three guys had appeared, armed with bats, staffs and barehanded. They ranged in age greatly from about nineteen to around sixty. They must have come out of one of the houses further down the street, alerted by the cries.
I slumped against the wall, weak with the relief.
The assailants scattered abruptly, leaving us in the street.
I ran to Jared. He was standing, but only just. His face was a mess. His nose had bled freely onto his shirt-front. He staggered and I thought he was going to pass out.
“Hey. You okay?” One of the guys said.
“Help him,” I said.
Then I fainted.
I woke up later with a pain in my head. I rolled over and sat up. I breathed in and opened my eyes. I could smell the fresh scent of disinfectant and clean linen and a soft undertone of bleach. I looked around and saw my nose was right. I was in hospital.
“Oh, for...”
I sighed. There wasn't anything wrong with me! I fainted! That's all.
I swung my legs off the bed and stood up. I dressed and I went into the hallway.
“Miss!” A nurse frowned. She looked surprised to see a patient striding the halls so furiously.
I couldn't blame her for that – it probably was surprising. I sighed. “Listen,” I said wearily. “I'm okay. But can you...I need to see Jared.”
“Mr. Manning?”
“Yes.” My heart soared. If they knew his last name, he must be conscious.
“He's in the ward over there,” she indicated. “He's resting.”
I nodded. “I won't be long. Thanks.”
Before she could object to me being on my feet or me seeing Jared I walked briskly into the ward.
He was asleep. His face was a mass of bruises, one eye swollen, the traces of blood ghosted paleness on the skin where they'd been cleaned off.
“Jared?” I whispered.
His eye opened. He wasn't sleeping, then. Just resting.
“Darby.”
He sounded tense. I felt my own temper fray.
“How could you do something so crazy?” I snapped. I was so relieved to see him alive and reasonably well that all the horror flooded out of me. “You could have gotten killed!”
“You say that to me?” he said, also furious. “You nearly got yourself killed. How could you just throw yourself into a fight like that?”
I stared at him. “I was protecting you!” I said furiously.
He chuckled. “I don't need... protecting.” He coughed. I looked round, worried, as the coughing increased in volume. Then he stopped, wheezing.
“Jared, you...” I was poised in the doorway for help.
“Ribs... bruised,” he said.
I shook my head. “You crazy person,” I said. I was still a bit mad at him, though I couldn't exactly have put a finger on why. “You shouldn't have fought like that.”
“Only thing they know.”
I knew he was right, but I was still in shock. “You could have gotten killed,” I persisted angrily. He was in a bad way. I felt guilty and because of that I felt angry. I was also shocked to have seen him in action.
I really appreciated what he did for me but seeing it disturbed me. He was a killer. He had the instinct, like those guys. He'd been them. Would he have assaulted a woman, like they would?
The thought made me uneasy.
He drew in a rasping breath, drawing my attention back to him and out of my thoughts. I shook my head, feeling suddenly guilty again. “Thanks,” I murmured.
He smiled. “Don't mention it.”
We talked a bit after that – halting, hesitant sentences where neither of us seemed to know what to say. The nurse arrived and threw me out and I headed back to my own room where I contacted Alex to see if he could come and fetch me.