Paradise Falls (Paradise Falls #1-5)(2)
Elliot offered his hand.
“Come on.”
Jennifer pushed herself out of his reach and grit her teeth against the pain as she stood. She would die before she let herself be in an enclosed space with Elliot Katzenberg ever again. She learned her lesson the first time. Hobbling over to the bike, she picked it up and start wheeling past the car.
Elliot calmly reached out and seized her hair. Frizzy auburn curls, woven into a single loose braid, hung to her waist. When Elliot’s fingers closed around it and tugged, the pull on her scalp froze her still as liquid terror swirled in her stomach. She let out a little whimper. His voice clawed its way from memory to the forefront of her mind, stinking of grain alcohol and cheap fruit punch. Shut up, Jenny.
“Let go of me,” she said.
The rational part of her mind was rapidly losing to the part of her that wanted to shriek, punch him in the face, and somehow hope he’d let go. She’d never outrun both men with an injured ankle. Elliot was the quarterback in high school. She knew from experience kicking him in the belly only made him mad. The first time she tried that, he hit her harder. His younger brother screamed his lungs out to get everyone else’s attention at the party to finally pry him off her. Franklin wasn’t there to save her this time.
“Get in the car,” said Elliot. “I’m giving you a ride.”
Fight-or-flight won out. Jennifer tried to pull her hair out of his grip by jerking her head, but his hand tightened and yanked her back. She grabbed at his wrist, trying to soften the pull on her scalp. He turned and pushed her towards the open car. Her ankle sent pain up her leg, and she let out a scream. Grayson kicked the front seat forward to shove her in the back seat. Through the corner of her eye, she saw something moving towards them. The two men spotted it too, and all three stopped their movements.
A long sleek car rolled down the street and came to a stop behind her fallen bicycle. The expensive car looked so out of place that she could hardly believe it was there. The softly purring engine went silent and the driver’s door swung open.
“Who the hell is that?” Elliot looked at Grayson, who shrugged in response.
The driver was almost as tall as Grayson, but about half as wide, with a powerful angular build. His green eyes looked right at her, and she saw a flash of something that resembled recognition. Of all the things to think at that moment, she thought he had pretty eyes, set in a narrow clean-shaven face framed by long dark hair tied loosely behind his neck. He looked out of place dressed in a salmon polo shirt and khakis, like he’d be better suited to a uniform, or maybe a suit of armor. He walked up to Elliot.
“What are you doing?”
“What are you, the crossing guard?” said Elliot. “Gray, get rid of him.”
Grayson put a meaty hand on the stranger’s shoulder and gave him a little shove. The stranger looked at him with more curiosity than anything else. Jennifer’s breath came in quick, short gasps, and even though it was futile, her good leg trembled to run. The stranger stared at Grayson.
“You really don’t want to do that,” he said, then turned to Elliot. “Take your hand off Miss K.”
“Miss K?” Elliot blinked. “What? Look, get the f*ck out of here before you get hurt.”
Jennifer’s eyes darted back and forth between them. They were like the wrong ends of two magnets, forced together. Nausea coiled cold in her stomach. This was like being dragged back to the house and the party all over again. Elliot still held her hair, but he was distracted. I could hit him. I could punch him right in the throat. There was a vein on Elliot’s neck standing out, pulsing. Her hand balled into a shaking fist that started to move, until she stopped herself. If she did that, then he would hurt her back much worse.
“Let go of her. Now.”
Confused, Elliot stared at the stranger. He had that same look on his face when Franklin chased him out of the back bedroom, like a petulant child deprived of his favorite toy. Elliot’s lips pulled back in a sneer, and the fingers on his free hand twitched before balling into a threatening fist. Grayson grabbed the stranger’s arm and tried to pull him away.
Jennifer never saw anyone move that fast in her life. The stranger flowed out of Grayson’s grip and stood behind him before the heavier man could react. He brought the heel of his open hand down on Elliot’s wrist, and Elliot barked out a sharp cry of pain and released Jennifer’s braid. She stumbled away and leaned on a lamppost, clutching at the pain in her scalp. Elliot stepped backwards until he leaned on the car, and rubbed his wrist.
Grayson positioned himself behind the stranger.
“Show me what you’ve got,” the stranger said.
“Do you have any idea who you’re f*cking with?” Elliot snapped, stretching to his full height.
“Elliot David Katzenberg. Son of Senator James Katzenberg. You’re the head of the city planning and public works office.” He glanced over his shoulder at Grayson. “He’s your assistant. Grayson Carlyle. Father is the chief of police. Do you know who I am?”
“No,” Elliot said, blinking.
“I’d be glad to show you.”
Jennifer nearly jumped out of her skin when a siren went off. A quick pulse and a flash of the lights came from Brock Edwards’ cruiser as it rolled the wrong way up the street to park in front of the Dodge. The state trooper stepped out, scowling. Edwards pushed fifty with a spare tire hugging his midsection, but he was as compact and powerful as he ever was. He left his hat in the car and marched over to Elliot. The strap on his sidearm was unsnapped.