Movement. Someone moving. I’m swinging around too much and I scream, but it only makes him hit me again. Not as hard this time, but enough to shut me up, quiet me into uncontrollable sobs of pain and misery. “Sorry,” he says again. “I’m sorry. I need it.”
He keeps going. But I look up, straining to see. I hear it before I see it this time. Footsteps coming and coming fast, crashing through the leaves.
“Shit,” my abductor says, but it’s too late. He half kneels and tries to drop me, but I grab him. I dig my fingers into his face and rake them down, breaking skin. He screams and throws me off. I hit the ground hard, moaning in pain, just as the second person appears.
Brent slams into the man like a wrecking ball. He barrels the man over, slamming him to the ground. He rears back and punches the man in the face once, twice, three times. I hear bones break. I see blood on his fist. The man struggles and manages to throw Brent off. He tries to scramble to his feet but Brent kicks him in the gut. The man groans as Brent slams him back to the ground and kicks him one more time before turning to me.
I sit up on an elbow. Pain wracks my body but relief fights it off. Brent runs to my side and kneels. “Your leg?” he asks.
I nod once. “Hit me.”
He growls and stands. The man is struggling away. Brent walks to him. “Why?” he asks.
“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I’m sorry. The money. I needed the money.”
Brent kicks him hard. He does it again, again, until the man stops.
“Brent,” I warn as he’s about to do it again. “Don’t. You’ll kill him.”
For a second, I think that’s exactly what he intended. But he stops himself and stands there for a long moment, staring down at the body at his feet.
“I know this man,” he says. “You know me too, don’t you, Hamish?”
“I’m sorry,” Hamish groans, breathless with pain.
Brent shakes his head and looks at me. “Our fucking groundskeeper. Or at least he’s one of them. He’s been working here for years.”
He groans as Brent roughly rolls him over. The man looks up, his face bloodied. He coughs and Brent shakes his head. He walks back to me and gently touches my bad leg, his fingers so soft.
“How bad?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t think it’s too bad. He hit… he hit me.”
Brent’s body tenses.
“Don’t,” I whisper.
“It wouldn’t be the first body we’ve disposed of here.”
I shake my head. “Don’t.”
He closes his eyes and nods. “Come on. I need to check you out. We’ll get a portable X-ray machine and make sure there’s no breakage.”
“I’m okay. It didn’t… he didn’t break me.”
“We’ll make sure.” He touches my cheek gently. It’s amazing how gentle he can be with me, but how intensely and destructively violent he can be with others.
“How did you know?” I ask.
“I was watching. I heard you scream and started running.”
“I knew it.” I smile a little. “I knew you couldn’t help yourself.”
“I know. Are you angry?”
“I’m happy.” I touch his face.
I’ve never seen someone fight for me like that before. But Brent did it without hesitation. He came barreling down from that house and saved me. And now I’m sure that he’ll save me from worse if he can, save me from much, much worse.
He’ll do much worse for me, if I ask him to.
The thought is almost scary. This man, this incredible man, this muscular and intense and terrifying and gorgeous man, he’ll do almost anything I ask him to do.
I don’t know what to do with that power. Or if I want to do anything with him, aside from letting him have me.
“Come on. Can you stand?”
I nod and let him help me up. Hamish the groundskeeper is lying in the dirt, breathing, groaning, but not moving.
“What about him?”
“I’ll send for him,” Brent says. “We know where he lives. There’s nowhere to go, Hamish.”
The man just groans.
Brent shakes his head and takes my weight. “Ready? Or should I carry you?”
“I think—” I take one step and instantly stop. He scoops me up off my feet before I can feel any more pain.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers. “Come on. Don’t look back.”
He picks up my cane then carries me back to the house. I press my face against his chest as we go.
Terrifying and beautiful. That’s Brent. This man.14BrentA local doctor arrives an hour later with a portable X-ray machine. We take scans which show that Amber’s leg didn’t break again, which is good. There’s some minor bruising, but overall, it seems like she’ll be fine.
I can’t say the same for Hamish. Our security found him in the bushes, trying to crawl away. Apparently, I’d broken his nose and several of his ribs. I think I would’ve done worse if Amber hadn’t told me to stop.