“Aww, don’t be like that,” one of the men called, obviously falling into the latter camp. “We just want to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk to you!” I screamed. I quickened my pace as the adrenaline began to course through my body. Don’t look at them, Olivia, don’t get them excited to come after you.
But my yelling had obviously infuriated them.
“What’s your problem, slut?” one of them called after me. “You think you’re better than us? You ain’t nothing but a whore shaking your ass in a club. Like a fucking skankass bitch!”
It took a lot to scare me. But I was officially scared.
I started to run.
The men started to run, too.
They caught up to me in no time. They were bigger and stronger and they were wearing work boots, while I had on these ridiculous high heels.
I looked around wildly for a store I could duck into, somewhere I could get away from these guys. But the two of them surrounded me, forcing me up against the brick of the building behind me.
“Don’t touch me,” I snarled.
The man grinned again, showing his gnarled teeth.
His friend started to get anxious. “Come on, man,” he said, glancing around nervously. “Let’s just get out of here.”
“First we play.” The one with the bad teeth had a glint in his eye that terrified me. It was s a glint I’d only seen before in my old foster dad, a horrible man who still haunted my dreams at night.
I closed my eyes tight and thought of Declan.
I knew I should fight, that I should kick and scream and bite, but I also knew that men like this one got off on that, that if he was going to do something to me, I should protect myself and float away, out of my body, until it was over.
I felt him move toward me, felt him reach out and grab roughly at my breast, pinching the nipple. His other hand grabbed my chin and squeezed, pushing my cheeks together. I bite the inside of my mouth to keep from screaming and the taste of blood hit my tongue.
I whimpered, which excited him even more.
“Ooh, baby,” he said. “You like to be a bad girl, don’t you? You like to be taught a lesson.”
His friend wiped his lips and then giggled maniacally.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I could feel myself drifting away, going to the place I went whenever things like this happened. It started when I was ten, and my foster father held me down while he shoved his hand in my pants and told me to be good.
Fight, Olivia. I could hear Declan’s voice in my head. Don’t fade away. Fight.
I snapped out of it and bit the thug’s hand.
“You bitch!” he shrieked and pulled back. “The fucking whore bit me!”
He reached out and slapped me across the face so hard I could hear ringing in my ears. My cheek burned and my skin felt like it was vibrating.
It was so shocking that for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. It was like the wind had been knocked out of me, even though I was still standing. A second later, my knees started to buckle.
That’s when I heard the car.
It was black with tinted windows and the driver’s side door opened and a second later the sound of shoes scraping against the sidewalk filled my eardrums.
It was Colt.
I blinked my eyes a few times, quickly, wondering if I was seeing things. The ringing in my ears was subsiding slowly, but perhaps I was hallucinating.
Everything was moving in slow motion and then Colt was there, in front of us, and he grabbed the men who slapped me by the back of his shirt and threw him to the ground.
“Get away from her,” Colt growled, his voice making it clear he wasn’t messing around. “You keep your fucking hands off her.”
For a moment the man’s eyes darkened and his pruny face set into a determined expression. “Oh, yeah?” he asked. “What the hell are you going to do about it?” His friend, who was lingering in the background, stepped forward and pulled a knife out of his pocket. The blade glinted as he popped it open.
I gasped and put my hand to my mouth.
But Colt didn’t even hesitate.
He stepped forward and in one fluid movement, knocked the knife out of the man’s hand. The knife went skittering onto the pavement, coming to a rest near Colt’s feet. He picked it up and dropped it into the sewer grate.
The men looked at each other nervously.
“Hey, man,” the one who pulled the knife said. “We don’t want any trouble.”
Colt took one step toward him, and the men went running down the street.
He turned to me.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I wasn’t. My cheek was throbbing where I’d been hit. The adrenaline was leaving my body and I was starting to feel the pain.
“You’re not.” He cupped my chin tenderly and lifted my face, studying my cheek. “It’s already starting to swell. Stay here.”