Falling for My Dirty Uncle

Sidestepping him, Austin grabs the man by the wrist and just turns it back harshly; the knife drops to the floor and, at the same time, the nauseating sound of bones breaking reaches my ears. Cocking his arm back, Austin then rams his fist into the mugger’s face, and a heartbeat later the man is laying on the ground unconscious, blood dripping down his broken nose.

“Are you okay, Ash?” Austin asks me, coming up to me and placing one hand on my face and the other on my waist. Only then do I realize that my hands are shaking.

“I—I think so,” I tell him, brushing my fingers over my neck, right on the spot where the blade was just a few seconds ago.

“Sir! Are you okay?” A small army of Secret Service agents comes up to us, and they quickly form a perimeter around Austin and I.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Austin tells them casually, waving his hand around. He jumped out of his limo so fast that the Secret Service didn’t have any time to catch up. A man of action, that much is true.

With both his hands on my shoulders, Austin lets his eyes roam up and down my body, trying to check if I’m hurt. As he’s doing it, a few cop cars park close to the presidential limo, and the police hauls the unconscious man up to his feet and then drag him inside one of the cars. The man just made an attempt on a sitting president; I guess it’s going to take a while before he’s out on the streets again.

Parking just befo

re the police cars, a few dozen vans from the local press show up in a flash. They were probably following the motorcade, and they were drawn here by the sudden stop. The Secret Service didn’t have enough time to set a big perimeter, so it doesn’t take much time before Austin and I are huddled together inside a small circle of agents in black suits, a crowd of reporters shouting questions in quick succession.

“Ashley, did you --”

“Mr. President, can you give us a comment?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Did you knock out that man, Mr. President?”

The questions are so many, and they’re coming so fast, that all I can hear is an angry buzz, almost as if the reporters have turned into a swarm of wasps. Running one hand through my hair, I take a deep breath and think of what my next words are going to be. This is an excellent opportunity to show the White House that the millions they’re paying me are well worth it.

“Thank you for your concern, everyone,” I say, raising my voice and looking at the reporters with a smile. “If it weren’t for Austin, I have no idea what might have happened. Just goes to show that he wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be tough on crime,” I chuckle softly, grabbing Austin by the arm and pulling him into me. I look at him with a growing smile, hoping that some journalist will snap a picture of my loving look toward the President. Only then do I realize that I don’t need to pretend that I feel thankful toward Austin… He saved me, he protected me, and I’m truly grateful for it. Because, just like I told the reporters, I have no idea what might have happened.

“Let’s go, Ash,” Austin whispers, lacing his arm on mine and trying to guide me toward the presidential limo.

“I guess it goes to show that the President isn’t only a man of his word; he’s also a man of action. I feel safe in his hands, and I think that the American people should also feel safe under his presidency,” I continue saying into a microphone that someone shoved into my face, taking small steps as I follow Austin back to the limo. Yup, I’m inspired right now, and the reporters seem to be eating it up.

“What were you thinking, Ashley?” Austin asks me as we step inside the limo, one of the Secret Service agents closing the door behind us. “You can’t ditch your security detail. You know it’s dangerous,” he continues, but I just lean into him and lay my head against his shoulder.

“Just take me home, Austin,” I whisper.

“I will,” he replies softly, placing one hand on my head and leaning in to kiss my forehead.

Austin

I don't think I've ever felt so much adrenaline course through my veins. Watching a fucking man assault Ashley—hold a sharp knife blade against her throat, and not knowing if he's bluffing or not—well, I couldn't jump out of the limo fast enough.

The car was still rolling, and my driver was yelling for me to wait, to think about my safety! he said, but how could I? Did he really expect me to just sit back and fucking watch that? What would've happened if that man decided to push that knife into her throat?

No, I can't even think about that. I shake the thought from my mind like a bad dream.

The fact of the matter is that Ashley's life was in danger and I couldn't allow anything bad to happen to her. I refused to be a bystander to that. It's true that the fucking asshole nearly succeeded in stabbing me as well, but I was never worried. One swift punch to his face, and I knew I had him.

"Please promise me that you'll never ditch your security detail again," I say, looking Ashley in the eyes. We're standing in her bathroom, and I notice a cut on her side. It's bleeding through her shirt. That has to be from the mugger. His blade must've nicked her, and she didn't even realize it.

Adrenaline is an amazing thing. With it, you feel almost super human. Pain disappears. Sometimes you even feel invincible—faster than a missile, and stronger than Mr. Universe … stronger than steel.

"I promise," she replies. "And thank you again. You saved my life."

"I'm just glad I found you in time," I say. "I don't even want to think about what could've happened, had I not have shown up. But that's over now … and you're bleeding."

I point to her shirt, and at the bloodstain blooming across the cotton fabric.

"It's nothing," she says, dismissively.