You Don't Know My Name (The Black Angel Chronicles #1)(11)

“Are those little knuckle cracks supposed to be intimidating or something?” I ask, raising one eyebrow.

“Most people take it as a warning before I pound them into the ground.”

“I’d really like to see you try,” I say and laugh.

“Are you seriously laughing at me right now?” the girl asks, taking a step back. “Don’t you even know who I am?”

“Nope,” I say and shake my head. “I don’t even know your name, so you’ll have to excuse me if I refer to you as ‘that bitch whose ass I kicked’ from now on.”

That did it. The girl’s dark eyes fill with even more fury as she lunges for me, her right fist clenched and heading straight for my face. I can feel Claire’s body tighten beside me. But before the girl’s fist can reach my jaw, I grab her thick wrist with both hands, spin her around, and twist her arm behind her back. The girl whimpers with agony, her arm struggling to break free as I push her up against the wall, smashing her face into the coarse brick.

“Holy…! Stop! Please, let me go,” the girl begs as I push my knee into her back.

“If you ever, and I mean ever, touch Claire again, I won’t just twist your arm,” I whisper harshly in her ear. “I’ll break it. You got me?”

“Yes, yes, I promise. Please let go,” the girl cries out. I loosen my tight grip and let her free. One more twist and her bone would have snapped in two. What I really want to do is use one of my Krav Maga take-downs on her; rapid-fire punches to the stomach, then the kidneys, then her temple. I want to wrap both hands around her forehead and slam her to the ground. But that’d probably be frowned upon.

“So much for being the tough girl, huh?” I say as the leader runs for the cover of her friends. The girl shoots me a death glare, color rising to her pimpled cheeks, as her two friends begin to laugh.

“Shut the hell up,” the beaten bully yells, pulling on their arms. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Oh my God, Tess, that girl really kicked your ass,” one of the girls says as they walk away.

“I could have taken her,” Tess snaps. Name mystery solved. The group argues about the likelihood of Tess beating me up as she drags them out of earshot.

Claire’s small hand touches my shoulder. I turn around to see her still shaking, causing my heart to involuntarily clench. She used to tell me about girls picking on her and never inviting her to sleepovers or birthday parties, but I had no idea girls were putting their hands on her.

“Are you okay?” I ask, pulling her into a hug. Claire puts her tiny arms around my back. As she rests her head on my shoulder, a few teardrops escape her eyes and soak through my cardigan and onto my skin.

“They do that to me all the time,” Claire says, her voice soft.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have stopped them,” I ask, pulling out of our hug and looking into her dark brown eyes. Whatever Claire is feeling, it’s written in her big doe eyes. She cannot fake it and she never tries. And today, her eyes say she’s lonely.

“I didn’t know when to tell you,” Claire says, looking down at the ground.

“You can always just knock on my door. I live literally twenty steps away from you.” We had counted once last spring. Luke, Claire, and I figured out how many steps it took to cross from my house to their house. Twenty steps walking. Fifteen steps running.

“I just didn’t want to bother you with it,” Claire answers with a one-shoulder shrug. “We haven’t hung out in a while. Guess you’ve been busy.”

My stomach twists into a guilty knot. It’s true. It’s been months since I spent quality time with her, introducing her to bands, listening to her talk about the boys she liked. I’ve been spending more and more time with Luke and less and less time with her. I should have noticed the impact that was having on her. Claire’s incredibly sweet and smart but that’s where the similarities between her and Luke end. She doesn’t share any of her brother’s popular-boy traits. Just a last name everyone knows and a reputation she can’t live up to. I should have been looking out for her, protecting her. I’ve completely failed.

“Did you tell your brother?” I ask, taking her cold hand into my own.

“Oh, I don’t want to tell him,” Claire replies, shaking her head. “You know how overprotective he is. Who knows what he’d do. I don’t want to get him into trouble with West Point.”

The first time I ever saw Luke, he was sitting on the back porch with his sister. She was wiping tears from her eyes as he consoled her on the back steps. They sat together, looking out into the backyard, his big arm around her tiny shoulders. It was such a sweet moment between a brother and his little sister that when he looked up and noticed me at the window, I almost fell I backed away so fast, embarrassed by my intrusion.

“I’m so sorry,” I say and bite down on my lip.

“It’s okay,” Claire says, even though it’s not.

“You can always talk to me, okay?” I say, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Okay,” Claire says. She drops my hand and leans down to pick up the books and papers that have scattered on the ground between us. I get down on one knee to help her.

“I’d better go. Thanks for rescuing me.”

“Of course,” I say, handing over her notes and homework. I wipe the knee of my jeans as Claire walks away. After a few steps, she turns around.