Reckless (Forever 6)

Stud lingered in place for a moment, looking back at his pursuers. They were about to run right past me on their way to the bus when one of the men heaved his bat like a throwing knife. Stud jerked to the right to dodge it, changing his course. While he kept looking back to the mob of angry men, he was now running in a straight line toward me.

"Oh no. No, no!" I shouted, waving my hands frantically in front of me.

He turned his head to look forward. "Shit!" he yelled as I turned sideways and scrunched myself, bracing for impact.

He swerved out of the way at the last second, crashing into the tower of boxes and sending sheets of cardboard flying in all directions as he tumbled along the pavement. Groaning and rubbing his head, he staggered to his feet and faced me. Dark eyes squinted. "Pepper? What the hell are you doing here?" Hearing him say the nickname he’d given me sent an unwelcome flutter through my belly.

I was just as surprised as him. "What the hell are you doing h—"

"Now we’ve got you, you f**king scumbag!"

A brown haired guy running at full speed leapt into the air, launching himself like a torpedo at Stud. Stud fell onto his back and kicked his legs upward, sending the guy somersaulting into the air and landing with his head poked through a cardboard box. Stud flipped onto his feet then immediately ducked. A punch passed above his head, and the assailant lost his balance. Stud balled his fist and landed an uppercut against his jaw, sending him flying off his feet and then slumping back to the sidewalk in a lump of skin and clothing.

Another man arrived and landed a blow across Stud’s jaw with a loud crack. The excruciating sound sent a tense dagger down my spine.

Stud quickly spit out some blood then pivoted, right in time to dodge a baseball bat to the skull. Stud retaliated with a swift punch to the batter’s gut, sending him staggering backward into another guy, and then another, all of them collapsing to the ground like dominoes.

The fat one who had tripped over a trash bag earlier threw a jab, but Stud blocked it with his forearm. Stud absorbed another guy’s kick to the torso with a primal grunt, then clocked the fat guy in the face. The fat guy wobbled for a split-second and fell backwards, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

"You think you could get away with this, ass**le?" screamed a guy holding an aluminum bat, nostrils flaring and eyes crazed. Although Stud was holding his own pretty well, there were too many of them for him to handle by himself. I began to fear for his life.

"Stop it!" I screamed as the blood rushed from my head. "Stop fighting!" My cries went ignored as two guys rushed at Stud. I frantically looked around to see if anyone could help out, but everyone was already on the bus far away.

I heard a bone-crunching slam, turned back, and saw more crimson drops splattered across the sidewalk. I couldn’t tell whose blood it was. This was like the flipside of Saturday night. Instead of women throwing panties and having orgasms, these men were throwing punches and hurling obscenities.

Stud’s back was turned and a goon with dreadlocks snuck up and wrapped thicks arms around Stud’s neck, squeezing him like a boa constrictor smothering its dinner. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to choke Stud or break his neck. Stud grasped at the guy’s arm, trying to pry it off, but it wasn’t budging. When I saw Stud’s face turning a bluish-red, my entire body filled with dread.

He was going to die.

Adrenaline overruling fear, I tore off my silver locket and ran toward Stud. "CLOSE YOUR EYES!!" I shouted to him.

He closed them, and I squeezed my locket, blasting fifty milliliters of industrial-grade capsaicin into the eyeballs of the guy choking him.

Dreadlocks screamed in pain, releasing his grip to claw at his own face. "My eyes! My eyes!"

"You little bitch!" someone growled behind me.

I spun around and saw a scowling blonde guy winding up to punch me. I screamed and took a step back, tripping over my flats, dropping my necklace, and landing in a puddle of dirty gutter water. My bun came undone and hair clouded my vision.

A strong grip wrapped around my wrist from behind. "Get away from me!" I screamed, rolling around and kicking my legs and splashing water everywhere.

"Stop it!" he yelled.

"No!" One of my kicks landed in what felt like his crotch. He groaned in pain but didn’t release his hold on me. I should’ve went with heels!

"Stop fighting me, dammit!" The next thing I knew I was hoisted into the air over the guy’s shoulder.

Brushing wet hair from my face, I realized we were moving away from the brawl. Panic shot through my veins.

He was kidnapping me.

"No! No! No!" I wailed at his back with my fists, trying my best to aim my blows at his kidneys, but his body was hard as f**king stone, and his firm grip around my waist only tightened. It was like being carried away by a gorilla.

"You idiot! It’s me!" Stud’s voice pierced through the adrenaline. My thrashing faltered. I blinked a few times and realized Stud was carrying me away from danger. The blond guy who had almost punched me was chasing after us. I feared he’d catch up, but Stud was faster. Even with me on his shoulder.

We reached the bus, bounded up the steps, and the doors slammed behind us.

The angry mob charged the bus, slamming their fists against the windows. One of the attackers reared his bat back and took a hard swing at the window in front of me. I screamed and shielded my face with my forearm. The bat shattered, sending splinters flying. But the glass didn’t so much as wobble.

Thank god for this expensive-ass bus and its bullet-proof windows!

"Go, Bernie!" Stud shouted to the bus driver.

The driver stepped on the gas with a loud roar and we drove off, leaving the enraged gang in a cloud of sooty exhaust.

Chapter Six

ON THE BUS

"Put me down!" I demanded, adrenaline still coursing through my body. I was still over Stud’s shoulder, his arms tight around my waist. His body was warm and he smelled good in that same way he did when I first met him, which only made my confusion and irritation worse.

He carried me further into the bus without saying anything, and I noticed a poster on the wall with bold letters that said "The Hitchcocks" with the silhouette of a raven perched above the "o".

So that’s what "HC" stands for. Damn it, the announcer at the bar had used ‘The Cocks’ as shorthand; I should’ve made the connection sooner!

Closing the privacy divider behind us, he gently plopped me down on a leather couch.