Jack and Djinn (The Houri Legends, #1)(6)
“Well, have you?”
“A little. Coupla beers.”
“Then I don’t want to come over. You’re mean when you’ve been drinking.”
“I’ll be nice, I promise.” He stepped toward her, and she backed away. He grabbed her arm in a vise-like grip and pulled her to his car. She wanted to jerk free, but there was a couple getting out of their car nearby, and if she resisted, he would pitch a fit, causing a scene. And he’d blame her for that when he finally got her alone, and then he’d take it out on her.
She got into his truck, making herself as small as she could, sitting close to the door. Rap buzzed from the speakers, the bass cranked loud enough to rumble in her gut. His hand wandered over and clutched her leg, wandered up to her crotch, and fumbled there. She took his hand in hers and moved it lower down. He turned to glance at her, swerving on the road in the process. Shit, Miriam thought, he’s been drinking more than I thought. Sometimes it was hard to tell with him.
“Ben, you shouldn’t be driving.” She tried to ignore her fear and sound calm. “Why don’t you pull over and let me drive? I’ll take us to your place, okay? I’ll come over and we’ll watch a movie. Just let me drive, please?”
“Shut the f*ck up. I’m fine.” Ben blinked, peering sideways at her and then back to the road.
“You’re drunk, Ben. Just let me drive. Please. I’m begging you.” She touched his forearm and looked at him pleadingly. “Just pull over. Let me drive.”
He knocked her hand away, and the truck swerved, angling across the centerline and into the oncoming traffic. Horns honked, headlights flashed. “See what you made me do, you stupid bitch? Almost got us killed.”
“Ben—”
“Just shut the f*ck up, will you?” Ben turned the music up even louder, so loud her ears throbbed. Then he rolled down his window, letting the cold wind blow over them.
Miriam huddled against the far side of the cab, her seat belt pulled tight, hands gripping the armrest on the door. Finally, after a nerve-wracking twenty minutes, they pulled into the parking lot and Ben swung his truck into his designated spot, threw the door open, and lurched out. Miriam sat in the cab, not wanting to get out.
“Less’go,” Ben slurred, wavering on his feet.
Shit, shit, shit, Miriam thought. He was hammered. When she didn’t immediately get out of the truck, he lumbered over to her door and wrenched it open, yanking her out. She fell to the ground, scraping her hand on the grit of the asphalt.
She straightened and snatched her arm free, shoving Ben away. “Leave me alone, Ben,” she warned, backing away from him as he took another step toward her.
He grabbed for her, nostrils flaring like a bull’s, eyes rage-blurred and booze-hazed. “Don’ tell me what to f*ckin’ do, bitch.” He lunged at her, hard fist cracking against her cheekbone. Stars exploded in her head and she fell backward, slamming into the ground, bruising her tailbone and smacking her head. Ben was standing over her, one hand bunched up in her shirt front, beer breath sour and overwhelming, fist cocked to strike again.
A lance of heat washed through her gut and set her blood alight. No, not again. She was standing up somehow, pushing Ben away despite his greater strength. She was burning up, her mind an inferno of rage, her skin on fire. She struck Ben in the chest with a flattened palm and he stumbled backward. Her handprint was seared into his skin through his shirt, a blackened palm-shaped brand burned deep in his flesh. He was cursing, pulling at the shirt to keep it away from the open wound, glancing up at Miriam in shock and fear. Before she could register what had just happened, Ben was across the intervening space, his huge fist slamming into her gut. She stumbled backward, gasping for air, eyes watering, hands clutching her belly. Another blow, this one to her side, followed immediately by a third to the same spot. Agony blew through her, leaving her breathless and limp, leaning back against a car door, blinking, trying to breathe, trying to see, unable to even plead for the mercy she knew she wouldn’t get. His fist cracked against her face, knocking her head backward, stars flashing like sunbursts. Another wicked punch to her ribs, and she felt something crack inside her. She braced herself for another blow, slid to the hard grit of the asphalt, stifling whimpers behind clenched teeth.
The blows stopped abruptly, and she heard a voice, distant and muffled. “Hey! Leave her alone, *!”
Through tear-blurred eyes, Miriam saw a man wearing a motorcycle helmet pulling Ben away, throwing lightning-fast punches to Ben’s torso, followed by a vicious uppercut that left Ben laid out on the asphalt. Miriam clawed at the car, struggled to her feet, blinking to clear the tears of pain.
Her rescuer rushed over and wrapped a gentle arm around her shoulders.
“Come on!” His voice was kind and deep and musical.
He gently guided her to his motorcycle and helped her on, pulling her arms around his waist. The bike rocketed forward, the back tire stuttering sideways. Miriam clutched at his stomach with frightened fingers, feeling his rock-hard abs through his thin T-shirt. She laid her head against his back, barely breathing through the throbbing pain. Her ribs were broken, she was sure of that, and at least one eye was going to be black within minutes. Her savior twisted the throttle, and the back tire squealed as he guided the motorcycle out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Once they were away from Ben, her rescuer slowed down, obviously trying to be considerate of Miriam’s possible injuries. As carefully as he drove, however, the slightest motion of the bike sent spears of agony through her, and Miriam closed her eyes, focused on pushing down the tears of pain and anger.