He fell flat, arching his back and gagging. As before, the thin man was nowhere to be seen, but I didn’t care. I waited over Grif’s body, fists still up, elbows tight. He struggled in the sand to breathe, and the girl crawled away fast, just like I had done the night Slayde saved me.
I looked up and she was limping and running back in the direction of the bar. “Wait!” I yelled, but she didn’t stop.
I let her go. My rapid breathing moved my shoulders as I stood over the loser at my feet. I didn’t have a phone. I didn’t have any way to report this. He continued writhing and gagging, and at least I knew he wasn’t dead.
“Look at me,” I growled. He didn’t move, and my voice grew louder, another roar. I was the tiger. “Look. At. ME!”
His head turned. “That was your second warning, fucker. Do you hear me?” I kicked him in the torso, and he let out an Oof!
“NEVER COME BACK.” I pulled my leg back and kicked him again, harder. Another Oof! I dropped to my knee and grabbed the hair at the top of his head in my fist, jerking his head back as hard as I could. Blood formed a black mask over the lower half of his face in the darkness, and a sick satisfaction warmed my chest.
My voice was low and sinister. “If you ever come back here again, I will find you. And I will finish you. This is your last warning.”
The sound of another person approaching snapped my head up. I released Grif’s hair, and stood to face what had to be his accomplice walking toward us.
“Who’s there?” I couldn’t believe this asshole was going to try acting tough—again! He was going to try and spin it like the girl had asked for it.
Standing over the moaning body at my feet, I almost wished I had killed him. Then I thought about what kind of person that made me. I thought of Slayde—standing right here, fighting with all the inner strength he had not to kill this guy. I could still see his fists clenching and unclenching.
Pulling my foot back, I planted another, hard kick right in Grif’s stomach, resulting in another grunt. This time, he curled forward.
“What are you doing?” Skinny was moving a bit slower.
I spun on my heel and started to run back the way I’d come. I heard his voice yell after me as my pace picked up. I was flying back toward the pier, toward Slayde’s place.
When I got closer, I slowed to a walk. The burning in my chest was back, pushing out any fear or anger I felt. My run had burned up the adrenaline surging through my limbs, and now all I felt was the pain in my right wrist and forearm.
Looking up, I walked to Slayde’s apartment. Doc would be inside, and I could only hope as a former convict, he’d know what to do with my battered hand.
“What happened to you?” Doc’s eyes were wide, and his jaw slack as he took in my appearance.
I could only imagine what I looked like—hair slick with sweat, plastered against my forehead, blood on my hands. “I was running on the beach.” My breath was still coming in quick gasps. “A man was attacking this girl, and I... I...”
“It looks like you handled it.” His expression was cautious but prepared for what I might say.
I nodded fast. “She ran, but I got him. I left him lying on the sand.”
“Get in here.” Doc led me into the studio apartment directly to the sink where he straightened out my hand. “How does it feel? Any popping sensations? Numbness?”
I shook my head. “I did it right. I just hit him in the face. As hard as I could.” Thinking about how it happened, I added. “The first hit was the hardest.”
“Make a fist.” He stood back and watched my fingers. “You’re going to be okay, but you should ice it and wrap it. If you develop any numbness, you need to go to the doctor and get X-rays.”
“You think I broke my hand?”
“I don’t think so. You clearly know how to throw a punch.”
My chest warmed, and I looked down at my throbbing wrist. “Slayde taught me.” It was hard to say, but Doc didn’t react.
I watched as he snatched the towel from the counter and went to the freezer. He took a few handfuls of ice and brought the makeshift ice pack back to me. “Hold your wrist in this. Keep it elevated tonight.”
Watching him, I thought about the beach, my feelings and what I wanted to say and do. My voice was a broken whisper. I was on the verge of tears, but I fought them. “Will I ever see him again?”
Doc left my hand in my lap and wrapped his arms over my shoulders. I felt him take a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I think you will.”
We didn’t speak any more, and I knew I had to get back to my son. I could cover for my injury, play it off as some accident, but apart from all that, something inside me had changed. I needed to see Slayde again.
&n