A Man Who Knows What He Wants Box Set 5

by Flora Ferrari

  They’re big corn fed boys but I don’t give a good god damn they’ve met their match today.

  Hope you ate your Wheaties, bitches.

  Abigail takes a step toward me, but one of the boys hands darts out and he grabs her by the wrist.

  You just fucked up son.

  I take two giant steps forward closing the distance between me and him and giving space between me and Abigail.

  I may look like a loose canon right now, but I’m controlled. I’m the eye of the storm and I take one last deep breath not to calm myself but for the exhale that I need to…

  Twist from the hips and explode I throw my entire body landing my forearm to his jaw dropping him like a feed sack.

  Good night, corn fed.

  His buddy grabs the arm of the other girl as Abigail shrieks and runs toward the car.

  “Let go of me!” she yells.

  “You heard the girl,” I say as I pivot on the ball of his foot and introduce his chin to my elbow making sure his nose gets a passing introduction as well.

  That’s the mistake rookie fighters make. First of all you don’t take hostages when I’m around because I will end it quickly and safely for the hostages…not for you.

  And second of all if they had tried to punch me, as boys always do, they would have thrown fists.

  Amateur hour.

  The forearm is much thicker, stronger, and can dish out way more pain.

  As the two boys who are out cold have just learned.

  “In the car,” I tell the other girl and she takes off after Abigail.

  They’re in the back seat before I even walk back to the driver’s seat.

  I peal out as kids takes stupid camera shots of me leaving. No doubt this will get reported once they run my plate number.

  And it’s also no doubt I’m not leaving Abigail’s safety up to the campus cops.

  What if I wasn’t here?

  Does Abigail even know who those boys are? What their history says about them? Some people deserve second chances and some people don’t.

  Those pricks already got theirs and it’s obvious they didn’t learn a damn thing.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Courtney Washington,” the girl says.

  I’ll run her record and call her parents later to let them know what happened…as a citizen to citizen responsibility.

  “What are you doing?” Abigail says from the back seat.

  “Where do you live Courtney?”

  “Off campus. Washington Street.”

  “Number?”

  “1844”

  I pull up a picture of the map in my mind and make a hard right at the intersection.

  “I’m taking you there. And if anybody asks you where you live don’t tell them Washington Street. Give them a landmark that’s not in eyeshot of your home. Courtney Washington on Washington Street is way to easy for anyone to remember. You don’t want people to know where you live. Keep that information to yourself. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Her eyes scan the car nervously.

  “And don’t get into stranger’s cars. Anyone. Not even me.”

  “Who are you?” her voice trembles.

  “It’s okay. I know him,” Abigail says from the back. “I think.”

  Courtney’s got the door open and flying towards the front door of her apartment before the Mustang is even completely stopped. It’s not like I can tell her to file a police report on what happened anyways. The worse those boys could get charged with is likely assault as they grabbed her wrist and detained her, but not long enough for it to count as much in the eyes of the law. I made sure of that myself.

  I get out of the car and walk around shutting the door.

  I’m back in the driver’s seat and on my way to Abigail’s off campus housing a second later.

  “Those guys were huge,” she says. “They’re going to be professional football players in a few months when they graduate.”

  “Not anymore,” I say.

  “What’s gotten into you?” she asks.

  You. You’ve completely consumed my thoughts and my entire being and I will have you all for my own one day very soon.

  “You need to be more careful,” I say.

  “Careful? I was standing in front of my lecture hall in the middle of the morning.

  “Trouble doesn’t give a warning before it strikes. Remember that,” I say.

  “Why don’t you ask me instead of telling me?” she says.

  Now we’re talking. She’s getting tough and I like that.

  “You think those boys would ask you what you thought if they had you pinned down and gagged in the upstairs bedroom of a loud house party?”

  She doesn’t reply.

  “Huh?”

  “No.”

  “That’s right. And I know damn well you’re not that kind of girl to put yourself in that kind of position but guys will try anything. They’ll slip something in your drink. They’ll use innocent pretenses to get you alone. I see that crap all the time and it drives me crazy.”

  A moment passes.

  “Those two boys. They’re four years older than you. Seniors. And they outweigh you by well over a hundred pounds each. And they have records…long records. But the school does everything it can to keep anyone from finding out because they bring the school so much money. It’s disgusting. And I’m not going to let anything disgusting, or anything at all for that matter, happen to you.”

  I roll to a stop in front of her house. That was fast.

  “You want to be a lawyer right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do me, and all of society, a favor and get up there and figure out a way to prosecute guys like that without plea margins and money involved. Got it?”

  “Okay,” she says. Her tone has calmed now that she knows my intentions are good. My intentions are always good, except for the bad things I want to do to her.

  I run around the side of the car and open the door for her and help her out of the bucket seat in the back.

  She takes a step towards her house and stops. She turns her head around. “Mr. Armstrong.”

  “Call me Julian. You’re an adult now.”

  The slightest of smiles cracks her lips. “Ju…lian.” She’s so well mannered and after all these years she almost can’t say it. She so used to being respectful to elders. Damn, this girl is a gem.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you,” she says.

  “Don’t thank me. Have dinner with me.”

  “Dinner?”

  “You need food to fuel that incredible brain of yours.”

  She smiles.

  “I’ve heard about your academic achievements from your old man. I know you’re sharp as a tack.”

  “Not exactly, I just—“

  “I’ll be here at seven. When you see me pull up come out. Not before. Understand.”

  “Okay.”

  I turn and go back to the car. I pull on the handle.

  “Mr. Armstrong. I mean Julian.”

  “Yes.”

  “Does that mean we’ll be out after sunset?”

  “You’ll be with me. You’ll be safe.”

  “Okay. I do feel safe when I’m with you.”

  “And wear your hair up,” I say as I slide into the driver’s seat and pull away before I do something I’ll really regret.

  Chapter Six

  Abigail

  “Was that that cop again?” Katie asks as I walk into the house and see she’s got her face pressed up against the window.

  I ignore her.

  “Oh my god, Abs. It’s all over social media already. He dropped Chad and Keith like they were nothing. Nothing! Those two are huge. Massive.”

  I pivot on my foot changing my direction from the kitchen to my room. I really don’t want to talk about this right now.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Fine. Thanks,” I say as I bound up the stairs. “I’ll be in my room studying. Alone.”r />
  Three seconds later my door is locked and I find myself on my bed again reliving what just happened all over again in my mind.

  I really didn’t like the way those guys were talking to us. Their language was rude, crude, and uncalled for.

  It’s like they could just come up to any girl they want and basically tell them that they’re god’s gift to women and that we should get on their knees and well…

  And then Julian came out of nowhere. Literally out of nowhere and saved us from the embarrassment and possibly a lot worse.

  But there’s no way he just happened to be at the right place at the right time like that.

  Only campus cops are allowed on campus and he had his regular car and not his patrol car.

  Was he waiting on me?

  Why?

  And do I really want somebody basically standing over my shoulder all the time fighting all my battles for me? I mean that wasn’t technically even a battle to be fought. It was just a couple jerks trying to talk to some freshman girls.

  Then I remember what he said. I reach for my phone and Google their names. Nothing but a bunch of sports accolades and praise.

  I keep scrolling through the results and scrolling and scrolling and scrolling.

  Nothing. But that doesn’t mean anything. Julian would have access to information that other people wouldn’t.

  Just when I’m about to toss my phone to the side I notice something at the bottom of the Google results page.

  In response to a complaint we received under the US Digital Millennium Copyright Act, we have removed 18 result(s) from this page. If you wish, you may read the DMCA complaint that caused the removal(s) at ChillingEffects.org.

  What the heck?

  I’ve never seen anything like this before, or at least noticed anything like it.

  I click on the link and there it is…just like he said.

  Apparently someone had it removed from the search results…or almost had it removed.

  Wow, he was right.

  And he was looking out for me…again.

  Wait a second? Did I agree to a date with him?

  Was that a date? Is he just meeting with me tonight to give me some safety advice or something? Or to tell me not to tell my dad?

  He wouldn’t do that. He never keeps secrets from my dad. They tell each other everything.

  So wait. He invited me out for a dinner date?

  But I didn’t exactly accept.

  He didn’t really invite me he just kind of told me.

  “Uhhhh,” I moan aloud realizing I allowed his domineering behavior. I really need to work on that…on not letting him do that.

  I’m going to confront him about that tonight.

  But first maybe I need to confront myself about these feelings I’ve been harboring for him which suddenly seem like they might not just be a one-way street.

  Chapter Seven

  Abigail

  “Is this a date?” I ask after we get seated and order our meals.

  “Yes,” he says so matter of fact.

  His directness is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, but with each passing minute with him it’s making me realize it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

  “Are we sitting in the back because you don’t want my dad to find out?”

  “No. We’re sitting in the back because I want you all to myself. And I know the owner and he gave me the best booth.”

  Again with the directness. The mention of the owner would sound like a brag if it were coming from anyone else. But because he’s so direct it’s just a simple statement of a fact, nothing more and nothing less.

  And it’s a fact that his ways are making me hotter by the second.

  I’ve always had such a big crush on him but I kind of just wrote it off.

  Dad’s best friend? Check.

  Way older? Check.

  A successful cop? Check.

  What would he want with me and why would he risk my dad’s friendship and maybe his career for me? I guess now that I’m eighteen his career wouldn’t be in jeopardy, but based on his actions earlier today he values keeping me safe more than his job.

  “You take the serve and protect motto very seriously, don’t you.”

  “Of course.”

  “Does it matter to you whether justice fits between the black and white lines of the law?”

  “It does in that I have to play by the rules when I have my uniform on. But when my uniform is off I’m nothing more than a citizen, just like you. And then I can evaluate what’s right and wrong and make decisions based on my own moral code.”

  “Is that challenging? Switching back and forth?”

  “No, because most people are good. There are just some that aren’t. And even fewer still who aren’t and who manage to avoid detection or justice. That’s what happened earlier today.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.”

  “Does that scare you? Do I scare you?”

  I take a sip of my water and really ponder his question.

  “I know you and I know who you are as a person…as a man. Because of this it doesn’t scare me. And if I’m being honest strangely enough it excites me.”

  “I excite you,” he says. It’s not a question.

  “Yes. Don’t I excite you? Isn’t that why you invited me out tonight?”

  “Yes. But you don’t just excite me. I’ve become completely obsessed with you. I’ve studied obsession before as part of the job. People become addicted to drugs, violence, all kinds of bad things. I was always repulsed by the lack of control especially when it came to evil things. But that was before I experienced it.”

  “I’m an evil thing?”

  “You’re an angel from heaven and my mission is to watch over you.”

  “But I’m an angel. Isn’t that my job?” I’m not entirely sure what I’m saying or why this conversation is going in this direction. It’s just that he’s leading it and I’ve quickly learned that when he leads you follow. It’s instinctive and somewhat frustrating at the same time. Frustrating in that I know exactly what he’s talking about. I’m also becoming obsessed with the excitement he creates and the knowledge that he cares so much about me.

  I can’t help but wonder what my dad would have done in the same instance today.

  Told them to leave me alone?

  Threaten to call the police?

  He’s the police so by definition he’s the one my dad would call if there was trouble. He’s the hero in the dark blue. He doesn’t wear a cape or a mask but he delivers justice just as swiftly.

  That just doesn’t exist anymore.

  Here I am an eighteen-year-old girl and I have a big, strong man who’s offering to protect me from anything life throws at me. But the difference is he’s not offering. He’s not even insisting.

  Why? Because he doesn’t seem to care one bit what I think.

  He’s going to do it regardless.

  I’m not sure if I should question it or just go with it.

  In some ways I can’t help but think of the scary movies when a character is too stupid to live. Is that me right now?

  But I know this man. And I know if I tried to tell him no he wouldn’t even listen. I’m not even sure he’d register anything from me that involved me asking, or suggesting he give me space.

  “That’s not your job. You’re a woman. I’m a man. That’s my job.”

  “What if I told you I needed space. What if I said this was way too much too fast.”

  “Is that what you’re saying?”

  “I’m just asking.”

  “You can say it or you can ask it but it won’t make a bit of difference. I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  The waiter arrives with our drinks. He ordered for me, of course. And as expected he didn’t pick anything alcoholic.

  It’s kind of strange just sitting back and not having to do anything. I have to admit I like it. I make so many decisions during
the day anyways it’s nice to just turn my brain off and relax like this in the evening.

  But I’m anything but relaxed, thanks to him.

  “You’re always very beautiful, but with your hair up like this I can see your swan like neck and it’s even more captivating.”

  Captivating? Who uses words like that?

  “Thank you. You look very…nice too.”

  My compliment floats off his back like water. He doesn’t acknowledge it or deny it.

  I try to imagine myself out with a boy my age right now. First of all I know the odds are pretty high that he’d pick me up and then ask me what I felt like eating or where I felt like going. Then we, I mean I, finally picked something out he’d ask me what I was going to order and probably even ask me about what he wanted to order.

  Twenty questions for sure. But here the guy who’s a trained interrogator, I’m sure, isn’t asking questions at all. He just makes statements, with a few exceptions.

  I never really spent much time speaking with him at my parent’s house and I never would have known he was the least bit interested in me, although I did notice him looking at me pretty hard on my graduation day, but it seemed like everyone was kind of checking me out that day. It was my day after all.

  But come to think about it he would often look at me, but a couple times when someone said nice things to me or got really close to me he was always close by.

  This really did start way back then. Even then he was dropping obvious hints. At least they must have been obvious to everyone but me.

  I guess I’m not trained to solve mysteries like he is.

  But this isn’t a mystery is it? His directness isn’t a game or a change in who he is. I didn’t ever really know who he was. I just knew what he looked like, which was super hot and muscular, and how he exuded confidence and power which of course is also super hot.

  “I’m not one to date girls. Never was. If I ask you out that means you’re my girlfriend. You accepted so that means you were interested, or at least very curious. But I can see it’s much more interest than curiosity. So unless you get cold feet for some reason tonight you’re my girlfriend now.”

  “What?”

  “Like I said, if you get cold feet then you can have more time. Just not much.”