Gentleman Sinner(3)

Thwack!

I wince, my face bursting into flames when a hand, one that’s not from my memories, connects with my cheek. But I beat back my tears, locating the grit I called on many years ago but haven’t needed since, the strength and fortitude to just survive. I shut my mind down and wait for the next hit, breathing in more calm.

‘You should have kept walking, bitch.’ His foul odour is starting to get down my throat, making me heave, and my body jerks forward when he grabs the front of my coat, yanking me up, breathing all over me. I open my eyes, not only to remind myself that I don’t know this man, but because his face is close and I might get a glimpse in the darkness. Teeth – dirty, rotten, jagged teeth are the first thing I see, chapped lips grinning around them. ‘Tryin’ to help the poor slag, huh?’

I look up and see pure, filthy evil in his eyes, his pupils dilated. I’ve seen eyes like these before. They’re eyes full of cruel intentions. I keep my mouth shut, knowing I shouldn’t fuel the situation, but when his grubby hand reaches for my thigh and strokes up toward my stomach, and then to my breast, I whimper, my fear reaching new heights. I can take a few slaps, but that. No. No, I can’t go there again. I’ll fight him with all I have. ‘Please no.’

‘Hmmm,’ he hums, his nasty grin widening. ‘Think I’ll have a taste, since you seem so—’ He’s cut off dead in his tracks when the roar of an engine saturates the air, and the alleyway is suddenly illuminated by headlights. I squint, blinded by the sudden brightness, and blink back some of the glare, working to gain some focus, my heart beating wildly. I can feel his grip on me loosen. ‘Fuck,’ he curses, his voice now shaky rather than menacing. I hear a car door slam. I hear pounding footsteps. And then my attacker is suddenly catapulting backward with a startled yell, jerking me sharply as his hands are ripped away from my coat. The sound of him hitting the bricks of the wall opposite makes me flinch, and when my vision clears, I recoil, seeing the back of a rather large man towering over the trembling body of the scum who was about to . . .

I shake my head violently, not prepared to allow my mind to go there. Whoever has just shown up seems as menacing, though definitely better dressed. He’s wearing a suit, his blond hair wavy and falling to his ears. The headlights bathing the alley give me a perfect view as he drags the arsehole who just cuffed my face up the wall by his sweater. I’m held rapt by the widening of his eyes, the evidence of narcotics lessening by the second, being replaced with fear.

‘No, please,’ my attacker cries, pushing himself further against the wall.

The suited stranger says nothing, just holds him by his throat against the wall, making the man’s eyes bulge. I can’t move. Dare not, either. But when a faint whimper sinks into my ears, I look down at the woman beside me. She’s restless, her bare legs kicking out, her head rolling. My natural instinct has me on the ground next to her in a heartbeat, with no consideration for strange suited, large men and drugged-up arseholes.

I shush her gently and move in close, feeling so sorry for her when she turns her face into me and nuzzles into my neck, like she’s hiding. Like she’s looking for protection. I don’t know why, but I sense it’s here now. ‘It’s okay,’ I whisper, rubbing her bare arm, feeling how cold she is. I quickly check her pulse and then remove my coat, fighting to get it around her shoulders, focusing on her and not what could be a pretty nasty scene a few feet away. I have no tolerance for men who knock women around. But I also can’t bear violence.

My attention remains on the woman until the sound of a car door shutting pierces the air. The spaced, even beats of shoes hitting the ground fill my ears, almost ominous in their approach. The suited guy is still across the way holding my panicked attacker against the wall, which tells me the footsteps are someone else’s. I wrap my arm around the woman’s shoulders and cast my eyes to the right until they find the car, which I note through my shock is a Bentley. And then my view is suddenly hindered by a pair of trouser-covered legs. Long legs. Thick legs. Strong legs. My eyes slowly start to creep upward, over thighs, a suit-jacket-covered torso, a neck . . .

Until I get to a face.

His piercing blue eyes force me to blink back the shine.

I swallow, inhale, and hold my breath as he looms over me.

He might be wearing a suit, but his strength isn’t concealed. He’s a muscular beast of a man. My mouth falls a little lax on my exhale, my mind unable to comprehend such formidable power. He looks frightening, yet those cobalt eyes hold a softness within them as he stares down at me, his brown hair limp and falling across his forehead. ‘Who are you?’ His deep, rough voice penetrates my skin.

I remain mute, just staring, my mind working hard to try to tell me whether I should be scared.

‘Who. Are. You?’ he demands, sounding menacing.

‘I was walking home from work,’ I rush to explain. ‘And heard . . .’ My words fade when I realize I don’t know the name of the woman in my arms.

‘Penny,’ he prompts, nodding towards the woman. ‘Her name is Penny.’

I swallow nervously, unable to stop my eyes from scanning the pile of muscle and power standing over me. He knows this woman? ‘I heard Penny. She sounded distressed.’

His head cocks in question. ‘And you came to help?’

I frown a little. ‘Yes.’