Shit!
I unlock my car, hoping the beeping noise will convince them to step aside. No such luck, instead they’re now watching my approach. It’s time to make a decision: continue to my car with confidence showing no fear or retreat back to Trick’s and hope they don’t follow me.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” I say with a polite smile as I approach my driver’s door which they’re blocking. I leave my thumb hovering over the panic button on my key fob. In this part of town it won’t draw that much attention, but it might get Trick’s if he did in fact wake as I was leaving.
“This your car, Red?” The younger black kid says as the older white guy, maybe my age, smirks like he’s letting his protégé handle me.
“It is. Excuse me please.”
“What’s a fine thing like you doing in these parts so late?”
Just as I turn to go back to Trick’s, the younger kid grabs my arm knocking my key fob from my hand. My blood runs cold.
“Where you going, Red?”
I try to wriggle out, but he grabs my other arm too.
“Darren … uh, let’s go.” The other guy starts to step away from my car.
“Go is right. I’m going to have a go here at this fine piece of ass.”
I grit my teeth. “Get your fucking hands off me!”
“Darren! I’m serious, man, let’s get out of here. Just let her go.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Darren grips me tighter as he looks over my shoulder.
“I’m the Grim Reaper if you don’t do as the lady asks and take your fucking hands off her.”
“Trick!” I scream at the sound of his voice behind me.
Darren pulls me into his body, hugging me tight, and that’s when I feel the sharp tip of a knife at my back. “What are you gonna do? Shoot me before I cut her?”
I squirm to try and see Trick behind me, but the knife presses harder against me. What the hell is Darren talking about? Does Trick have a gun?
“What if you miss?” Darren’s face contorts into an ugly smug grin.
“I never miss.”
What. The. Fuck?
Darren keeps looking over at his friend.
“Let her go, now!”
Darren relaxes his grip on me and holds up his hands, the knife still in his right one, like he’s surrendering.
“Trick!” I cry as I turn and run to him.
He places one hand on the back of my head and kisses the top of it while his other hand keeps the gun pointed at Darren. “Stay right here,” he whispers to me.
I let him go and hug my arms around myself as he takes slow calculated steps toward Darren. “If I see you around here again, it’ll be the last time you’re ever seen.”
I gasp a jerky breath, covering my mouth with my hand as Trick pistol whips Darren, knocking him to the ground and completely out. In spite of Darren having just threatened me two seconds ago, my instinct is to run and assess his injuries, call for an ambulance, piece him back together.
“Don’t.” Trick grabs my arm, pulling me away from Darren as Darren’s friend drags him to the sidewalk and hoists him over his shoulder. “Are you okay?” He slips the gun into the back waistband of his jeans. “Are you okay?” he repeats, framing my face in his hands.
I nod with slow confusion.
“What were you thinking? Why did you leave?” His words carry a sharp edge.
“I-I have to work early.”
“I would have taken you or at least walked you to your car. Jesus! Don’t ever come out here at night by yourself. Do you understand?” His eyes tense with anger as he grips my face tighter.
My wide eyes fix on his in an unsettling mix of fear and confusion. “Why do you have a gun?” I whisper.
He kisses my forehead and sighs. “Because I didn’t grow up in Barrington Hills.”
Chapter Fourteen
I’ve hit the point of no fucking return. There’s nothing I resent more than the voice in my head saying I don’t deserve her. And maybe I don’t, but she’s color and light, music and laughter, warmth and air. She’s breath … she’s life.
There’s nothing as fierce as my instinct to protect her. I would kill for her … I would die for her.
Chapter Fifteen
I have twenty-twenty vision, so it’s impossible for me to turn a blind eye to the gun that Trick has. Too many unnecessary casualties cross my path on a daily basis for me to feel that guns are necessary and provide safety in the hands of the average citizen. However, Trick with his gun saved me from being raped or worse. That realization alone gives me pause to re-evaluate the strong beliefs I’ve held for so long.
We haven’t talked about that night since he took me home and held me in his arms until sleep claimed me, settling my shaky nerves. For me, I don’t know what I would say about it. Should I apologize for leaving without him escorting me? Should I thank him for owning a gun?