by Franca Storm
When I was a kid I was so damn shy. It’s what drew me to music in the first place. Kids used to bully me. And then I learned how to fight at my uncle’s gym and it changed everything. It gave me a power that I’d never had before. Since my teenage years, I’ve never backed down on anything. It’s always been my way or nothing. I’ve always got what I wanted, when I wanted it. Taken what I wanted, had people doing what I wanted. I’ve been the leader in every situation—in the band, with women, back when I went to the gym regularly and no one could beat me.
But with this situation with Nicki and Axel, it’s like all that’s been stripped away; like my power is gone. And I can’t fucking handle it.
So, I’ll do whatever the hell I need to; stoop to whatever low is necessary to keep that dangerous piece of shit away from her.
Chapter 14
~Nicki~
“You stupid little bitch!” Greg roars as I crash into my bedroom wall.
I scramble to turn around and I see him rubbing his cheek where I just punched him. He stalks towards me. I try to get to my feet but I’m disorientated from smacking my head into the drywall.
He’s on me again before I know it, hauling me to my feet and pushing me roughly against the wall. I see the beer bottle in his hand. He sees me looking and for some reason it incenses him. He smashes it against my desk beside us and the bottle neck breaks off from the impact. He grips the neck and holds it in front of my face, his hands shaking with barely-contained fury.
“You shouldn’t have stopped me. Now I’m not gonna be gentle about it.” He grips my neck with his free hand and squeezes hard, forcing a sputtering gag to erupt from my throat. “Now I’m gonna take you hard. Brutally, Nicola. How do you like that?”
His hand slides under my skirt. I clamp my legs shut.
“Stop!” I scream. “Stop it!”
He smiles maliciously, baring his disgusting crooked and decaying teeth. He’s so close that I can smell the alcohol on his breath. He smashes his fist into my face. Hard. I cry out and it just enrages him more.
“Shut up!” he snarls.
I spit in his face and try to buck him off me. But he’s too strong. Shit, how do I do this? I don’t know crap about self-defense.
He wipes his face and his eyes are black as they bore into mine. They flick to the beer bottle. And before I know what’s happening, he jabs it into my left arm. I scream as it tears through my flesh. It’s searing, excruciating. He twists it and I fight the overwhelming urge to throw up from the overload of agony.
The only thing I’m still aware of is his hand sliding further up my skirt, between my legs. All I can do is scream as he pushes my panties aside.
And then I hear a thunderous smack. My bedroom door.
He’s ripped away from me a second later.
“You fucking piece of shit!” a familiar voice roars.
A wave of light-headedness assaults me and I collapse to the floor. All I can hear is crashing, thudding and swearing. I force myself to look up and that’s when I look upon my rescuer.
John Kingston.
My eyes snap open and I bolt up in bed, screaming in absolute terror. I can’t breathe. I can’t…I can’t stop shaking. I’m faintly aware of an aggressive knock at the door.
“Nicki! Open the door, sweetheart! Nicki!”
Several moments pass before I return to reality and realize what’s happening. I climb out of bed and unlock the door. I’ve barely opened it a crack when he pushes through and flings his arms around me.
“John,” I sob against his chest.
“I heard you. It’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart,” he says softly into my hair.
I look up at him. “I’m sorry I was so loud. I’m okay. I’m fine. Go back to bed.”
He kicks the door shut and locks it. “No.”
He picks me up before I can utter a protest and carries me to the bed.
“Close your eyes and try to go back to sleep. I’ll be right here. I won’t leave you,” he says as he tucks me back into bed.
He walks around the bed and climbs in on the other side. But, unlike normal, he doesn’t get under the covers with me. Instead, he lies on top of them and wraps his arms around me over the covers.
I eye him in question.
“You’re naked,” he tells me.
What? Oh shit. I am, aren’t I? “I—”
“It’s okay. Go back to sleep now,” he whispers in my ear.
I nod and close my eyes. I open them a moment later. I find him gazing at me…lovingly? “John?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“I’m scared.”
His arms tighten around me and he tells me, “There’s no need to be. I’ve got you.”
“Thank you,” I say as I close my eyes again.
He strokes my hair soothingly.
That’s the last thing I remember before I fall asleep in his arms.
Chapter 15
~John~
“Another tattoo, huh? Where and what?” I ask into my earpiece as I pull my truck into the parking lot of my apartment building.
“I don’t know yet. Maybe something to do with boxing. Or, something musical. Kinda like your guitar, but not a rip off of that,” Nicki answers.
I laugh. “I don’t mind if you get one identical to mine.”
“Yeah right. I know you, John.”
“I’d allow it for you. But if anyone else copies it, I swear to God, I’ll kick their ass.”
She giggles. Damn, I love that sweet sound. “You tough little shit. No, I won’t copy yours. But thanks for the offer.”
“I’ll help you figure something out. Where, though? I need something to work with.”
“I’m thinking on one of my boobs.”
“What? Really?” Images of her perfect tits flash in my mind and I fight to push them away before my dick starts reacting. Stop it, asshole.
“No, I’m just messing with you.”
“Are you blushing right now?” I ask, picturing just that. Just the slightest sexual reference can have her turning red. She’s so shy; just another thing that makes her unbelievably cute.
“Me? Blush? Never.”
We both burst out laughing.
“So, when are you coming out of hibernation? I miss you.”
“I just have one more assignment. It’s the big one.”
“That fucking thesis on personality disorder?”
“Yep.”
“You need my help? A study buddy?”
She scoffs. “You? Come on, John.”
She’s got me there. I’m not exactly a straight-A student. Far from it. She always lectures me that I could be if I applied myself. But my focus is directed elsewhere. On the band.
“Yeah, I hear you. I’ll let you get back to it. See you in a couple of days?”
“Yeah. Ready to get our song writing on?”
“You bet. See you, sweetheart.”
“Nite nite.”
She hangs up. Nite nite. So cute. Always so damn cute.
I tap my earpiece, switching it off and grab my cell phone out of its holder by the dash. Sliding it into my leather jacket pocket, I climb out of the truck. I switch on the alarm and stuff my keys into my jeans.
Before I can even take a step towards the building, something slams into me from behind. I stumble into the driver’s door and before I can regain my balance properly, something crashes into my side. A boot, I realize. I hit the concrete. Fuck.
I roll to my side. Big mistake. A fist plows into my right cheek, just narrowly missing my nose. Phew. It’s already been broken too many times.
I look up to see Axel standing over me with two of his frat buddies by his side.
“Are you done?” I demand.
“Get. Up,” he orders.
I don’t move. No one tells me what to do. “Is this about the other day?”
“Of course it’s about that. What the fuck do you think it’s about?”
“Do guys like you need a reason?”
Most guys in my position would probably shut the fuck up. But I’m not most guys. And, besides, shutting my mouth isn’t gonna make this any less painful for any of us.
Axel kicks my thigh. “Get up!”
I smirk at him and climb to my feet. “That almost hurt.”
Fury flashes in his eyes. “It’s about to.”
Does he really think he’s gonna succeed in intimidating me here? I’m not a guy who’s gonna piss himself over getting into a fight—even if it is three against one—because I’m used to it. Hell, I’ve trained for this. “You think attacking a guy when his back’s turned and bringing along two guys as back up makes you any less of a pussy, Craven?”
He gestures to his guys and they take position; one either side of me.
“You sure you wanna do this?” I warn him even as adrenaline spikes through me and my body decides this is on either way.
“Oh, you have no idea how much I wanna watch you in pain and begging me for mercy, you piece of shit. I’ve waited too long to wipe that cocky smirk off your face.”
Hmm. Pretty good trash talk. He must watch a lot of movies.
I feel the guy to my left make his move. He’s so slow and clumsy about it. I kick the guy to my right to get him out of my way and then I spin into the fist coming at my back from Lefty. I block it with my palm and jerk it hard to the right. I hear the satisfying sound of a snap and he screams like a little bitch. I sweep my leg at him, ripping his feet right out from under him and he crashes to a heap at my feet. Weaving my fingers into his hair I jerk his head back and then slam it into the wheel well of my truck. Thankfully, it’s built like a goddamn tank and sturdy enough to take the hit without denting it, which is more than I can say for Lefty who writhes on the floor, clutching his bloodied face and whimpering.
Meaty arms wrap around my shoulders and I know it’s Righty—the biggest out of the three of them. He tugs me backwards with him and my hands grip his, wrestling against his powerful hold. The guy must have at least a hundred pounds on me. Shit.
Before I can get him off my back—literally—Axel steps in front of me and yells to him, “Hold him steady!”
I watch Axel clench his fists. He’s such a fucking amateur that he makes the mistake of glancing at exactly where he intends to hit. As he comes at me, I instinctively flex my abs as tightly as I possibly can. I’m really fucking thankful my uncle convinced me to keep working out at his gym a few times a month. These are my greatest defense right now against broken ribs. That’s the last thing I need. They take too long to heal.
His fist plunges right into my abs. When he pulls back he looks at me in surprise. I know it’s because I didn’t double over. It pisses him off and he hits me again. And again. It takes a sustained effort on my part to resist the urge to react and give him what he wants as he lands a total of four hits. I’m lucky he’s such a pussy and his hits aren’t that hard.
Finally he stops and moves into me. He thrusts his fist into my face, his knuckles grazing my lips, and the all-too-familiar coppery taste of blood trickles into my mouth.
“Which hand do you use to play guitar?” he demands.
“Both, you fucking idiot.”
He nods to Righty who’s still holding me across my shoulders. The guy shifts his grip and I feel both hands move to my right arm.
“Break it,” Axel orders.
I smirk at him because he just took one step too close. Time to fight dirty with dirty.
I thrust my knee up, right into his fucking junk. Brutally hard. An agonized cry rips from his throat and he collapses to his knees, clutching his dick through his shorts. I get a sick thrill from knowing he won’t be using his dick for a while after that. Nicki’s safe. Righty knees me in the back and his grip shifts from my arm to the back of my jacket as I fall forward on purpose. As I figured he would, he releases me completely so he doesn’t have to hold up my dead weight.
“Good boy,” I growl.
Now it’s my turn, fuckers!
I kick him back, roll to my side and flip myself to my feet. I lunge at him, my fist plunging into his beer gut. He doubles over instantly. I jerk him down by his shoulders and smash my knee into his face. He cries out and I shove him hard. He collapses to the floor.
I wait a few seconds to make sure he’s not gonna get up and then I stagger over to Axel. I weave my fingers in his hair and ready my right fist. His eyes meet mine and I see the naked fear there. True fear that I’ve only seen once before.
Nicki. That night when that bastard attacked her.
Flashes of what I did to him hit me hard. Argh!
I release Axel and step back.
“You’re not gonna finish it?”
I turn my back and call over my shoulder, “It’s already finished. Don’t come at me again.”
I force myself to walk upright and as steady as possible until I’m out of sight and through the door to the parking lot entrance to the elevators.
And then I collapse. Fuck, every part of me is burning in agony. It’s been too long since I’ve been in a fight.
My hands are shaking from adrenaline as I reach into my jacket pocket to pull out my cell phone. When I finally manage it, I speed dial Mitch.
It picks up on the first ring and I speak before he can get a word in. “Elevators. Parking level. Now.”
“John? What’s wrong? You okay?”
“Just…get here.”
I hang up, stow my phone away and push myself off the floor so I’m sitting and leaning against the wall for support as I struggle to catch my breath.
Shit, I should probably cut back on my smoking.
Chapter 16
~John~
“Dude, you sure you don’t wanna go to a hospital?” Mitch asks me as he dabs a cue tip soaked in disinfectant at the cut under my right eye.
“And tell them what when they start asking questions?”
“That three frat guys attacked you in the parking lot.”
“And when they ask why they did it? Should I tell the cops I lost my temper at my uncle’s gym and attacked, Axel? No, man. I can’t.”
“All right. It’s just…I’m not the best at this. You want me to call Jim?”
I look down at myself. I’m wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. I can barely see because my right eye is closed up from swelling. My shins are scraped to shreds and a series of Band-Aids are stuck to them thanks to Mitch. They weren’t really necessary, because they would’ve healed fine, but he’s doing me a major favor so I kept my mouth shut. I see the blood staining my chest, most of it from my mouth and face, and a couple of grazes on my pecs from the fall I took at the beginning of the attack. My wrists suffered similar damage. My knuckles are shredded from dealing out so many bare-knuckle hits. They’re wrapped with gauze now. I know they won’t take that long to heal. Aside from my face, my abs took the worst of it. They’re way beyond black and blue. Purple is more like it.
“Nah. I don’t want this shit getting back to my dad.” I already had my ass kicked tonight. The last thing I want is my dad finding out about this and having a reason to give it another kick. Yeah, he’d fucking love that. Not gonna give him the satisfaction. I lean back against my chair and blow out a tired breath. “Look, I can take care of the rest myself if it’s grossing you out. Don’t worry about it.”
Mitch scoffs. “Grossing me out? Nah, man. You know this isn’t my first rodeo. I just don’t wanna make anything worse.”
“Not possible.”
“All right.” He presses a Band-Aid over the cut under my eye, grinning at me because he knows I hate them all over me. He pulls back and studies the rest of my face for a second. And then he says, “That’s as good as it’s gonna get. You want more ice for your cheek?”
I shake my head. “It won’t make a difference. That bag of peas did all it was gonna do.”
I grip the sides of my chair and try to lift myself out of it until I realize I can’t actually manage it. Argh! Mitch rushes to me and clamps his hands down
on my shoulders, forcing me to stay where I am.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I need a smoke and a beer.”
“Stay there.”
Amused, I just smile. I watch as he snatches up my jacket hanging on the chair at the other end of the kitchen table. He fumbles around in the pockets for a while before finally pulling out my lighter and a pack of smokes. He slides out a cigarette and lights it.
“Here,” he says, handing it to me.
I take it with a shaking hand—my body hasn’t come down from the huge adrenaline rush of the fight—and I struggle to get it in my mouth.
He snatches it back and tells me, “Open.”
I burst out laughing, which my abs hate me for and it ends up coming out as more of a sputter. “Is that what you say to all the girls, Mitch?” I tease. “You know, before you shove your dick down their throats?”
“Fuck you and just do it.”
I do as he asks and he slides the smoke between my lips. Shit, I’m glad no one else is here to witness this. I take a long, hard drag. I wave him away, telling him I’m good now. He crosses to the fridge and returns with a couple of beers. He pulls off the cap for me and pushes it right to the edge of the table so I don’t have to reach far. “Thanks, man,” I say as I pull the smoke out of my mouth, but not all the way in case I can’t put it back in again.
“What do you wanna do about your ribs?”
“There’s nothing to do. They’ll heal on their own.”
“Are you sure they’re not broken, cuz the way they look…well, they look bad, John.”
“It’s just bruising. Always looks worse than it is.”
We sit in silence for a while as I finish my smoke. When I’m done, he takes what’s left from me and slides the butt into his empty beer bottle. He sits back down and reaches for his cell phone as I take a sip of my beer.
“Who you calling?”
“Nicki.”
“Hang up!” I snap. “Now.”
“Okay, man. Relax. She’d want to be here for you right now. And I thought you wanted to show her what kind of an asshole Axel really is?” He gestures at me and says. “And this is all the evidence you need. More evidence than you need.”