After a few minutes of air, I immediately felt better.
I checked the time on my phone. Midnight in London, which meant seven at night in Raleigh.
Hartford was probably going out with his friends tonight.
I opened my camera on my phone, swiping at the selfies I’d taken with Lulu around London today. After a red-eye flight the day before, we’d slept in this morning at The Tower Hotel. We’d gotten up in time to catch a pre-scheduled tour of Shakespeare’s Globe and then had dinner and drinks at Swan, a hip two-story bar and restaurant with panoramic views of the Thames and St. Paul’s Cathedral. The night view of the skyline had been absolutely breathtaking—just like I had carefully planned for our honeymoon. Too bad Hartford had missed it. My chest tightened.
I kept scrolling and found the last pic I’d taken of Hartford and me. It was taken three weeks ago; we’d been on a visit to UNC Chapel Hill where he was planning to attend medical school next fall. We stood side by side, wearing half-smiles, our bodies close. The air that day had been sticky and humid, as solid as breathing bricks—and I’d wanted hot Krispy Kreme donuts on the way home.
Yet . . .
What I couldn’t remember was the
emotion
I felt as we posed for that picture.
Where had we gone wrong?
More importantly, why hadn’t I thought of him when I was kissing Dax?
The metal door from the club clanged open, yanking me back.
Goodbye, peace and quiet.
Chad eased out the door, his narrow face turned away from me as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and lit one, his fingers cupping the flame so it didn’t blow out in the wind.
He stopped and squinted when he saw me, surprised yet satisfied. He ambled over to where I sat. “Hey, thought you went to the loo?”
In the light, his frame was more muscular than I recalled.
“Just needed some air.” I stood up. “I got it.”
“No need to run off,” he commented wryly as I brushed past him. “I don’t bite.”
I felt more than saw him following me as I took long strides back to the door.
He’s just weird. Keep walking.
I yanked open the door, but he slammed it shut with a forceful palm. “I’m not done talking to you.”
I flinched at the stench of smoke and stale alcohol on his breath.
“I want to go back in. Lulu’s waiting for me.”
He cupped my shoulder, turned me to face him, and trailed his finger down my arm to toy with my bracelet. “You wear some pretty things. I really like this bracelet. Are the diamonds real?”
I jerked away from him. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
“Hey, it was just a question. No need to get upset. Why don’t you hand it over and let me take a look at it?” His hand settled at my throat. Just a light touch, but . . .
“No! Let me go.” I twisted away from him and reached for the door again.
His hand clamped tighter around my throat, squeezing on either side. My fingers clawed at his as he held me prisoner with just one hand.
“I was trying to be nice to you before, but you’re a bit of a bitch,” he said softly.
Panic skyrocketed.
My fingers clawed harder, jerking and hammering, but the pressure only hurt my throat.
I tried to swallow. Nothing.
I inhaled, sucking for air. Nothing.
A noise came from the street as a car came by, startling him. He switched around, put one of his arms around my waist, and dragged me behind the dumpster. My feet kicked and tried to find purchase on the ground but got nowhere. Self-defense moves my dad had taught me flashed through my head, and I tried to remember them.
He pushed me to the ground and straddled me, his legs clamping like vise-grips around my hips. “Be still,” he bit out.
Okay, okay.
I nodded, forcing my muscles to loosen, letting my hands fall to my sides.
His hand disappeared from my windpipe.
Fight!
My elbow connected squarely with his ribs, and he grunted and roared at me. I hit him again in the chest with a right hook as hard as I could.
I yelled for anyone who might be listening, but my voice was shit.
He slapped me, twisting my face around.
He reached for my hands to secure them. Evading, I punched him in the gut, a weak shot.
I scratched at his face, aiming for his eye, and he yelped as blood popped out and tracked down his cheek.
“Be still!” he yelled as he ripped the necklace from my throat. Sterling silver with a heart between two wings, it was a gift from Malcolm—not worth much, except for sentimental value. But then he dove for my bracelet, jerking on my wrist until I thought my arm would pop out of its socket.
I whimpered. Grief gutted me, beating the fear.
Not my bracelet!
I answered by shoving my fist at his throat—a move Malcolm had shown me—scoring a hit; he dropped back and grabbed his neck, gasping.
He pounced back, landing on my chest, and I know I should have felt some kind of pain, but the fear was too high, the need to survive overriding the circumstances. With a lightning move, he snatched the bracelet off my wrist, no doubt breaking the clasp.
No! It was all I had left of my dad!
“I’ve never killed anyone for a stupid piece of jewelry, but you’re a different story.” His face was livid with rage.
“Don’t,” I gasped out. “Please.”
Everything I’d been consumed with for the past two weeks: my mother’s disappointment, Hartford’s jilting, school—all stupid, stupid, stupid.
This.
This is what mattered. Life.
Savoring each moment because you don’t know when it’s your last one.
Being mindful and present for the small things.
The color of the sky. A daisy. Falling snow.
Don’t let me die,
I prayed.
I wanted to eat new kinds of donuts.
Get a tattoo.
Dance.
Fall in love.
In a blink, Chad disappeared, his body colliding with the metal dumpster like a bag of dirt.
I turned my head toward the door.
Dear God. Dax.
He rushed Chad, shoving him to the concrete where they tangled on the ground, both of them grunting and punching. Vicious sounds of skin meeting skin reached my ears. I tried to move, to get up and help.
Something!
I hoisted myself up to my hands and knees and crawled in their direction.
Please don’t let Dax get hurt.
Broader and more muscular, Dax snapped out hits, but Chad recovered, wiry and quick as his lean body scrambled away.
He flew at Dax and jumped on him, landing a sharp jab to his eye, making Dax’s head snap back.
Dax roared and stumbled backward, resting against the brick wall of the neighboring building, chest heaving as they faced off. Chad leaned down, scooped up a rock from the ground, and advanced.
No!
Feebly gasping out for help to anyone who might be listening near the street or inside, I made my way to them, gravel digging into my knees and palms.
Dax inhaled and jumped at him, but Chad evaded and swung the rock, aiming for Dax’s head. He missed and backed up to avoid Dax’s fist.
A car drove by the street and I called out again, but my voice had vanished.
Closer. Closer.
I crawled to them.
Chad’s back was to me, and if I could get there . . .
Dax’s eyes met mine for a second, sending me an almost imperceptible shake of his head. I ignored him. No way was he doing this by himself.
Chad, obviously giving up on hitting Dax by using the rock, threw it instead, hammering Dax in the arm.
Dax’s face tightened, his fist clenching as he dashed at Chad again, only this time instead of using his hands, he sent two fast kicks to Chad’s chest.
Bam! Bam!
Chad folded in and gasped for air.
Dax advanced closer, circling him, banked rage on his face, an insane look in his eyes I’d never seen.
Abruptly, Chad hopped up, pivoted, and ran for the main road.
Dax flipped around and grabbed his shirttail, but Chad came out of it, buttons flying as he jerked away. He cursed at us both and disappeared across the street and into the darkness of the next alley.
The fading of his footsteps was the best sound I’d ever heard.
I pulled myself up to standing and leaned against the neighboring building as Dax jogged over to me. My entire body heaved in great gulps of air.
He halted within inches, eyeing me like a hawk, his face rigid with fury. His hands were clenched, his body drawn up in a tight wall of muscle. “God, Remi. You okay?”
I nodded and only then did he relax, his shoulders dropping as he bent down to lift my chin up toward the lamppost light. His teeth clenched. “Your throat is bruising.”
“I’m fine,” I managed, my voice rough as sandpaper.
“What the hell happened? I saw you come out, but I must have missed him following you. I got nervous that you were alone . . .” He trailed off and raked a hand through his hair. “
Dammit,
I’m sorry I didn’t come out sooner.”
“Not . . . your . . . fault . . .” I sucked in more air and kept my words brief. I clutched my wrist, missing my bracelet already. “Robbery. Took my jewelry.”
He gently eased me in his arms and held me like I was a piece of china. “You’re shaking all over, Remi. I’m so sorry, love. I’m here. You’re okay. I’m okay. Everything’s okay.”
Warm tempered steel enveloped me, and I dissolved into the safety of his arms, my face buried in his chest. My voice wobbled. “I thought he was going to kill me—” I stopped and closed my eyes as hot tears fell, for once unable to stem the tide. “I hate crying in front of people. It’s stupid.”
“Shhh, let it all out. You’re crashing. I got you. I promise.”
Snippets of the attack rushed at me. “He—he got the bracelet my dad gave me the day he died. I—I can’t imagine not having it. I need it. It keeps me centered . . .” I stopped, unable to say more without losing my shit.
He took a step back to better meet my eyes, his hands cupping my shoulders with care. “But you’re alive. That’s all that matters, right? If anything had happened to you . . .” His mouth thinned, and his chest heaved as he took a deep breath. “I wanted to go after the wanker, but I couldn’t leave you here on the ground alone . . .”
I nodded, wiping at my face. “You scared him good, I think. You have moves I’ve never seen.” My eyes flicked over his shoulder, part of me still paranoid.
He touched my cheek, his voice soft yet deadly. “He’s not coming back, but if he does, I’ll bloody kill the bastard.”
I nodded, feeling just as bloodthirsty.
My beloved bracelet was gone.
He adjusted the neckline of my dress, and I looked down. Part of the bodice and shoulder had been ripped and were barely hanging on. Sequins were dangling by threads. He took the ends of one side and tied them in a soft knot, arranging it so you couldn’t see my bra.
“Perfect. Money I need down the drain.” I sighed, rubbing my arms. “It would have been wrong to return it anyway after wearing it.”
He paused, his eyes concerned. “Remi? Maybe this isn’t the time, but if you need a loan, I can help.”
My mouth parted.
He continued to surprise me. The cocky Dax I knew from Whitman had a whole different side to him.
“You’re—you’re sweet to say that, and I didn’t mean to hint that I needed help. I’m fine.”
A furrow lined his forehead. “I’ve been around long enough to know that when a girl says she’s
fine
, she’s usually lying. Why are you worried about returning a dress? I want the truth.”
I shook my head. “It’s just . . . I lost the deposit on my reception—money I’d been saving for months when I worked at Minnie’s Diner
.
Lulu—she bought her own ticket, and she’s offered to pay for all my entertainment, but I won’t let her. When I get back to Whitman, I’ll have to find somewhere to live, pay rent, pay bills . . . stuff I didn’t plan for.”
I nibbled on my bottom lip. “Besides, obviously there are other things to worry about—like you saved my life, thank you, and you have a monstrous black eye coming up.” More details came into focus. I touched his face with gentle fingers that lingered across the scruff on his jawline. “At—at least there’s no blood.”
“For you, I’ll wear it as a badge of honor.” His eyes burned into mine.
My stomach fluttered.
What did he mean?
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He leaned his forehead against mine. “Anytime. I hear bodyguard work pays well. Maybe I should go into that after I graduate?” His hands pushed my hair out of my face, trailing his fingers through the long strands.
His touch was exactly what I needed.
Without much thought except for comfort, instinctively I pressed myself against him, fitting into his arms as easy as breathing. He leaned against the brick wall of the neighboring building and wrapped me up, sensing my need to be grounded.
I felt safe. Secure. Like nothing would ever hurt me again.
I don’t know how long we stood like that—maybe a minute, maybe five—but soon our breaths were in sync; the rise and fall of his chest in perfect accord with mine. One of his hands traced down my spine and then up. He outlined my shoulder blades with his fingertips. His hands drifted to my hips then caressed back up to my hair, massaging my scalp. I wanted to purr, and if it were possible, I sank even further into him. Not even a pin could have fit between us.
But what had started as an innocent hug changed. Fire licked my skin everywhere he touched. Of their own accord, my hands slid down to his waist and teased the line where his jeans rested on his hips. I went further, my fingers toying with the V at his hip until I felt him harden against me.
The chemistry had always been like that with us. Feverish. Ready in an instant.
That long weekend we’d been together, we’d never stopped touching each other. One glance from me and he’d been there on his knees, asking what I wanted, what I needed to feel good. I’d done the same, not able to get enough of him. Even when he wanted to tie me up or hold me down.
We’d been a bright burning sun, and we’d exploded at the end.