This wasn’t something that we had to do. This wasn’t music that we had to face. This was someone attacking her and preparing to harm her, and possibly Fern as well. Fuck, was Fern okay?
I glanced over their shoulders, towards the bedrooms. “Fern’s asleep,” Maggie whispered.
Okay. That was… that was something, I supposed. Hopefully we could deal with all of this before Fern woke up, although I doubted it.
“Let her go,” I growled. I had never heard my voice like that before. It sounded like it didn’t even belong to me, deep and guttural and utterly enraged. But then, I had never felt like this before. I had never been so possessed by fury like this.
“I don’t think so,” the man scoffed, taking a step back. His hand tightened around Maggie’s throat for a moment, flexing, either to keep her from running or to keep me from doing anything. Maggie gave a small whimper of fear, and I just about saw red.
Before I knew what I was doing I was grabbing the guy’s arm and wrenching it free, I think wrenching his shoulder too given the grunt of pain that he let out. I don’t think the asshole expected me to just go after him like that, and he stumbled back a little in anger and shock as Maggie cried out and dove out of the way, elbowing him to keep him from grabbing her again.
“You motherfucker,” the man growled, and I released his arm so that I could swing at him, punching him square in the jaw.
The guy staggered back again and then swung at me, but I ducked. This person was fit, sure, clearly he hit the gym, but hitting the gym and being in a fight were two completely different things. Traveling the world all alone on a budget, getting what jobs I could—usually as a dishwasher at a restaurant or something—I didn’t exactly stay at the Ritz. I lived in bad neighborhoods and I had no friends, so I’d had to learn real quick how to defend myself. I’d gotten mugged once or twice, and there was a truth to discretion being the better part of valor and your wallet not being worth your life, but I had learned how to fight back. I hadn’t gotten mugged at third time.
I swung again, this time with my left fist instead of my right. I’d made a point to learn how to be ambidextrous when it came to fighting, even if I was ordinarily right handed. People never expected that. I hit the guy in the temple this time, and he nearly went down, his legs buckling before he righted himself again. I grabbed him before he could recover himself enough, one hand seizing his hair, another fisting in the front of his shirt, and yanked him around so that he was now towards the door and I was behind him.
“Get the fuck out,” I growled, “and stay out!”
I basically ran him out of the house, charging through until he was outside the front door and then slamming it behind him. I wasn’t sure how well the door would stay closed now that I had kicked it open and damaged the lock, so I grabbed the coffee table and a chair and stacked them in front of the door, just in case. I was confident that I could handle this guy if he came in again, but he might have a weapon this time and I needed to focus on Maggie and Fern.
Maggie was standing by the kitchen, trembling, her face drained of color from fear. I wanted to take her into my arms, but before I could do anything, I heard noises from Fern’s room.
I took off my jacket and handed it to Maggie for her to put on, so Fern wouldn’t ask why her mom was dressed just in lingerie. Maggie slid it on gratefully, and my heart thumped loudly, painfully satisfied at seeing her in my clothes. There was enough of a size difference that my jacket swallowed her up a little, covering her, keeping her warm almost like a blanket.
Maggie grabbed her phone off the back kitchen counter, and I swallowed, my throat going dry as I realized just how far away it had been from her. She had probably tried to grab it, or had wanted to, but hadn’t been able to get to it. The idea of salvation being so close and yet so far away while that asshole had his hand around her throat…
Fern emerged from her bedroom and I quickly turned to her as Maggie began speaking with the 9-1-1 operator. “Wha’s goin’ in?” Fern asked, her words all garbled as she yawned, rubbing at her eyes.
She was wearing tiny blue footie pajamas with sleepy sheep on them, looking like the most precious damn thing on the planet. In her arms were two of her stuffed animals, a pig and a cow. I scooped her up and rubbed her back. My heart felt like it stopped as she nestled her head on my shoulder, completely trusting.