I can’t go home and face Neil, so I call Maggie. She answers on the third ring. I’m walking on the street in front of the hotel with my phone pressed to my ear. It’s late and dark. Avoiding the shadows, I walk closer to the street than the hotel. “Maggie.” I try to hide the strain in my voice, but she hears it. We’ve known each other too long.
“I’ll take his balls off. What the hell happened? Where are you?” She pelts me with questions until I can finally get her to shut up.
“I need a place to crash. I can’t see Neil right now and I have nowhere else to go.”
Maggie goes quiet. “What’s mine is yours, you know that, but I’m not sure you’ll like it.”
“Anywhere is better than here or with Neil.” I feel the warble work its way up my throat. Tears are coming, and from the feel of it, there’s going to be a tidal wave.
“Sure, of course. I’ll be there in five.” Maggie’s line goes dead and I tuck my phone into my purse.
The city moves around me, but it feels like I’m in a bubble. People pass on the sidewalk, but I fail to notice them. I pace, lost in thought, clutching my purse close to my body. The night air has that scent that is distinctly New York. I breathe it in and when I turn on my heel, I nearly slam into someone. The guy is a wall of brown and black. His coat smells like stale cigarettes and mothballs.
Before I have time to figure out what’s happening, he grabs my purse, then places his hand on the center of my chest and shoves, hard. I scream and stumble back as my bag is ripped from my hands. The guy whirls around and is ready to take off, but I’m not about to lose that pocketbook. I’m fucking broke. All the money I have is in there.
Before I know what I’m doing, I take one of my heels and hurl it at his head. It connects and then drops to the sidewalk. A few people stop to watch, but no one does anything—typical New Yorkers. Everyone wants to see, but no one helps.
At that point everything happens in slow motion. I’m on my feet even though I don’t remember standing. One foot is frozen, standing on the cold cement, while the other is still shoed. The thief lifts his hand to the back of his head and pulls it away. He glances at his fingers, his dark eyes taking in the sticky red blood on his hand. The edge of my heel connected with the back of his scalp, and must have nicked him.
My heart stops as the guy turns toward me. His eyes have a crazed look and his shoulders shake like he’s going to rip me in half. “You.” He says it like it’s my name and he loathes me.
The man steps toward me and says it again, but his hands slowly drift upward, as if he’s going to strike or strangle me. I gasp something, but it doesn’t come out before I take a step back, terrified. My pulse roars in my ears as I look around for help, but don’t see anyone. The crowd has walked off, or maybe I walked away. Where’s a cop when I need one?
The rest happens frantically fast. Someone screams—me—as the man reaches for my neck. I drop, but he catches my shoulder. He shakes me hard, making my neck snap back and forth as he screams in my face. “You little bitch!”
The rest of his words turn to buzzing as he shakes me harder. I’m aware of the wind, the night air, and the man’s strangle hold on me. At some point, his hands slide up to my neck. I claw at his hands and try to yell, but nothing comes out. I don’t understand why no one sees us, why they just let this thief hurt me.
Swinging my legs, I kick at him, but it does no good. I’m not strong enough. I’ve tried everything I know to do and nothing works. The man hurls me around and slams my back against a brick wall. The cold jolts me and I wonder how we got to the alley next to the hotel, but those thoughts cease when I see the look in his eyes. An evil smile appears across his face as he tears the shoulder of my dress. The fabric comes away in his hand and lets the dress slip a few inches.
I open my mouth to scream, but his filthy hand covers it, sealing in the sound. His hand gropes me, feeling my breasts as he whispers in my ear all the horrible things he intends to do with me. “Then, I’ll take my knife and—” His nasty words stop immediately after the sound of wood snapping.
Just as suddenly, the hand on my neck is gone and I gasp in a shaky breath and look up. It’s too dark to see, but there’s a man in a tux advancing on the thief. He throws punches over and over again until they’re at the back of the alley, trapped by a brick wall. The thief is battered and bloody, but he doesn’t stop fighting. Neither does the man in the tux. He throws punches like a boxer, so much so that it’s hypnotic to watch. When that knife comes out, I expect things to turn in the thief’s favor, but they don’t. The man in the tux disarms the jackass and takes his weapon. It happened so fast that I can’t tell how it was done. The man in the tux draws back his arm like he’s going to push the knife through the guy’s chest.
“Stop!” I call out before I realize what I’m doing. One of my hands is holding up my dress at the bustline and the other is barely touching my lips. I can’t watch the guy die, but I can’t look away either.
The man in the tux doesn’t stop. A quivering cry is ripped from my throat as he slams the knife into the thief’s shoulder. The thug grabs his arm and slides down the wall, gripping his shoulder as his coat gets soaked with blood. He looks straight at me with rage.
The man in the tux kicks the thief once, and a familiar voice says, “Leave.”
I shiver when I hear it, because I know it’s him—Bryan. He must have followed me. Fear grabs hold and sours inside my stomach as I stare at his back. Bryan doesn’t turn to face me. The thief smashes his lips together and pushes up off the alley floor. He makes his way past me, and says nothing.
A tremor takes hold of me and drips down my spine, making me gasp. That’s when he turns. Bryan’s face is pale and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He walks back toward me and I can see where he took a few hits. There’s a tear in his shirt, under the lapel of his jacket, where the knife cut before Bryan got hold of it.
Step by step, he walks toward me and I’m more frightened by Bryan than anything I’ve encountered. What was that? Would he have killed the man if I didn’t yell? I can’t stop shaking.
Bryan reaches for my shoulders to steady me, and I feel that familiar jolt that goes with his touch. His thumb rubs softly over my skin. “Are you all right?”
But, it’s too much. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. The thought makes no sense, but I know I have to get him to release me. His touch has a way of undoing me, and I’m falling apart. I refuse to let him be the one to witness it. I jerk away, and nod quickly. “I’m fine.”
Bryan’s hands remain frozen in the air for half a beat, before he lowers them along with his gaze. He watches the ground for a second and when he raises his chin a smirk is on his lips. “Liar. You’re far from fine, but I’m glad you’re still standing.”
I stare at him, unable to come up with a response. His voice sounds affectionate, remorseful almost. He glances over my shoulder at someone and then says, “Your ride is here. Next time, don’t try to take down a mugger by yourself.”
I speak without meaning to, but the words bubble up and fall out. “Next time, don’t kill a man for stealing my purse.”
The corner of Bryan’s lip tugs up, as if he wants to smile, but he doesn’t. “I wouldn’t kill a man for stealing a purse. What kind of person do you think I am?”
“I honestly don’t know anymore. I thought I knew, but after this…” I shake my head and run out of words. Bryan changed his strike at the last second. That knife wasn’t aimed at the man’s shoulder—it was directed at his heart. “You were going to kill him. I saw, you can’t tell me you weren’t going to.”
Bryan leans in close, and when he speaks his warm breath brushes against my ear. “Perhaps, but it wasn’t because he took your bag.” He leans back and slips both hands into his pockets as those green eyes slide over me. “No one touches you while you’re with me.” I swallow hard and stare at him with my heart still pounding.
Maggie appears behind me a second later. She grabs my shoulder and spins me around. “Hallie, what the hell is going on and why are you all the way back here by yourself?” She sees the way I’m clutching my gown and the torn fabric. Concern lingers on her face, waiting for my response.
“I’m not by myself,” but when I turn to look, Bryan is gone.