Under His Protection

1

Jessica

JB Duvane

I handed the valet my ticket and shivered in the cold night air. “Black Jeep Cherokee.”

“Right away.”

“Please, hurry,” I called out as the young man ran around to the back of the club. I turned and looked at the tinted glass, hoping that group of men hadn’t followed me out. That was the last time I’d listen to my friend, Stephanie. She was always wanting to try the latest craze, and this week it was an exclusive, all-night dance club held in an abandoned building in a part of town that should have been leveled a decade ago. Then she disappeared on me and left me to fend for myself around the drunks and losers. I don’t know who this club was exclusive to, but it sure as hell wasn’t anyone I’d want to go home with.

The valet brought my Jeep up to the curb and hopped out. “Here you go,” he said, holding the door open for me. I handed him a five and got in. This night was getting more and more expensive by the minute.

I took one more look at the double doors that led into the club and my stomach sank. There they were, all four of those guys who wouldn’t leave me alone for the last half hour. They’d been trying to buy me drinks and get me to dance, and no matter how many times I said no, they wouldn’t give up. And now they saw me get into this car.

“Fuck,” I said out loud as I watched them walk toward a black SUV that had pulled up right behind me. “How the hell did they get their car so fast?”

I didn’t want to wait for all four of them to pile in, so I hit the gas and sped off, barely making it through a yellow light as it turned to red.

As I breathed a sigh of relief, I wondered why there would be a stoplight at that intersection. There were no other cars around for blocks. When I glanced up into my rearview mirror my stomach sank again. The car behind me ran the red light at that desolate intersection. It had to be those guys.

What the hell do they want from me?

That was a stupid question. What do all men want? I rolled my eyes at myself for getting into, yet another, stupid jam at the hands of Stephanie, and vowed to never let her talk me into going out with her again. I just hoped I was going to be able to get myself out of this one.

I wasn’t sure which way to turn to get to a busy street that I was familiar with, so I just took a chance. I took a sharp right and wound up on a dark street with massive pot holes. I didn’t know about the potholes because I could see them, I knew about them because about halfway down the block I felt one. Hard.

Before I had the chance to hit the brakes, one of my front tires drove into a deep hole and my Jeep bottomed out on the pavement. I popped up and out on the other side, but the damage had already been done. I could feel the tilt that told me I had a blowout. I was able to guide my car over to the side of the road, but all I could hear was metal scraping on concrete, and before I knew it, I came to a complete stop.

“Fuck!” I yelled as I hit the steering wheel with both hands. I hit the switch that make sure all the doors were locked and pulled my phone out of my purse. When I touched the screen and it came to life, I stared at the glowing display in disbelief. “How the hell is there no service here?!” I exclaimed. “I’m in the middle of the city!”

I stuffed the phone back into my purse and twisted around to see if anyone was on the street. I couldn’t believe my luck. This was the worst possible place to break down. The dimly lit street was lined with dark warehouses, most of which had boarded up windows and thick chains on the doors. And I didn’t see a sign of life anywhere.

“Well, at least those guys gave up,” I said to myself as I opened up my car door. I had no choice, I was going to have to walk to find help. But as I looked up and down the street, I had no idea which way to go. Plus I had on my most ridiculously high, strappy sandals and a silver dress that barely came down mid-thigh. I cursed at myself again as I shut the car door, then headed off in the same direction I’d been driving.

The only sound I could hear was the scrape-click of my shoes as they hit the sidewalk, and the echo as my footsteps bounced off the warehouse walls.

But then I heard something else.

Behind me was the sound of an engine turning over and, without looking, I knew. It was those guys. They must have pulled over when they saw me hit the pothole and waited for their chance. And now they had the perfect opportunity.

I turned my head and watched that same black SUV pull right along side me. It kept its pace with me for at least ten steps, then came to a stop. I heard a door open and the sound of a man getting out. “You need a ride, sweetheart?” he yelled, but I didn’t answer him. I didn’t look at him or slow down. I just kept walking like I knew where I was going and what I was doing, even though that was laughable. Who in their right mind would be out in this weather in a micro dress and six-inch heels? This wasn’t a walk of shame, it was a walk of stupidity.

I picked up the pace, but with each of my steps, could hear the man behind me take two, until I felt his hand close around my arm. I screamed, then felt his hand on my mouth, and before I realized what was happening, he pushed me into a dark alcove. The other men were already out of the car and suddenly I realized I was surrounded by four bodies, each a head taller than me, and each with a strength in their arms that I couldn’t even hope to fight in my wildest dreams.

I could feel tears stream down my cheeks as they pulled at my arms and legs. I couldn’t move and in my terror I couldn’t even think. The only words that repeated over and over in my head were this can’t be happening to me.

But then I heard something that brought me out of my stupor. I was suddenly surrounded by the sounds of yelling and I knew it couldn’t be coming from me. There was still a hand over my mouth.

As I stood there, pressed up against the cold, brick building, I heard the kind of noises I would have expected to come from me—the sounds of pain and terror. But what I was hearing was someone else’s pain and someone else’s terror. Then I realized that there were only two men holding me down.

Then only one.

Then there were no hands on me anymore and the only person standing in front of me was someone else entirely. He was bigger than any of those other men and taller. He wore a black t-shirt and jeans, while those other four had on dark suits. I watched him as he bent down and picked a leather jacket up off the ground, and as I did my eyes scanned the street in front of me. All four of those men were down there, lying on the pavement like rag dolls that had been gutted and tossed aside.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. One man had done this. He had pulled all four of those thugs off of me. He had saved me.

I wanted to thank him. I wanted to run up to him and throw my arms around him in gratitude. But the only words I could manage to force from my dry throat were “Who are you?”

2

Jason

Alyse Zaftig

Fuck, the girl in front of me was dressed in half a dress that barely even touched her thighs and six-inch heels that looked like they belonged to a professional stripper, the kind that charged a normal man’s monthly wages just for an hour in the VIP room. I tried not to get distracted by the way that her thighs moved when she shifted her weight between her feet.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I told her, ignoring her question. With any luck, the hot chick would leave bef

ore my business deal started. I looked at my watch and cursed. I was about to be late.

She rolled her eyes at me and put a hand on her hip. “Do I look like I want to be here?”

I looked her up and down slowly. I was late, but maybe it was worth it. “Your nipples are hard, so probably.”

She yelped and crossed her arms. “I’m just cold. I can’t believe you!”

“Believe it, sweetheart.” I looked around. There weren’t any taxis in this part of town. No self-respecting taxi driver would be caught dead here. If you didn’t have a car, you’d need to walk to a nicer neighborhood and hail a cab there. If you did have a car, this was the area of town that you went through with the doors locked and the windows shut tightly. “Why the hell are you here?”

“My car broke down,” she explained. “Not that it’s any of your business.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. She was giving me attitude, even though I was more than a foot and a half taller than her.

“It’s my business because you got yourself cornered by some drunken idiots. I didn’t hear a thank you.”

“Thank you,” she said. I knew she didn’t mean it.

Even in six-inch heels, she didn’t come up to my shoulder. I’d learned a long time ago that survival of the fittest worked. I should just leave her here and let the chips fall where they may.