Masters at Arms (Rescue Me Saga, #0.5)(7)

“Good girl,” he said, though he knew she didn’t hear him.

With Karla out of harm’s way, he could devote his full attention to the bilge rats slowly approaching him. He stood and set his legs, preparing for battle. The one on the far left held a switchblade. The one on the right wore brass knuckles. The pimp just wore a cocky smirk.

You may think you have the upper hand, punk. But I’m going to show you different.

“What’s the matter, soldier boy? Haven’t been able to get into her pants yet? Mebbe I need to show you some moves.”

Okay, perv. Now I’m pissed.

“Yeah, I’d like to see that.”

Adam knew his commanding officer would be pissed, too, if one of his master sergeants was tossed in jail, so he waited for one of the punks to make the first move. The few people waiting for buses scattered to the other end of the terminal, out of danger. Except for the passed-out wino, but he wasn’t in the way.

Adam didn’t have long to wait. The man carrying the knife lunged with his body his weapon pointed toward Adam’s gut. Adam answered with a spinning hook kick to the side of the man’s head. The knife flew from his hand as he fell to a heap on the floor.

That should even the odds a little bit.

Movement. Out of his peripheral vision, Adam saw the dickhead with the brass knuckles move, expanding the area Adam needed to defend. The first punch headed straight for Adam’s kidney. He swung away to evade contact. His two-week bender must have slowed down his reaction time. But at least the impact of the blow landed on Adam’s shoulder blade and not his kidney. The dickhead followed with a bare-knuckled blow to his mouth. Adam groaned at the impact. Focus, man.

Adam stepped back. He needed room. Swing. Now! His roundhouse kick landed squarely against Brass Knuckle’s ear. The man reeled sideways until he hit the bank of chairs. He sat down abruptly, the expression on his face one of stunned disbelief. Dazed. The man’s eyes glazed over as he curled onto his side.

Breathing hard, Adam turned toward the pimp. Now, prick, it’s just you and me.

Once again, Adam waited for the man to make the first move. Without his bodyguards, he appeared to have lost his bravado just when it would have become a fair fight. The pimp backed away from Adam, toward the ticket counter. Adam stalked him like a puma.

With his peripheral vision, Adam watched two of Chicago’s finest enter the building with weapons drawn.

“Hands in the air!”

Adam complied, but apparently they knew their usual suspect and one of the officers had the pimp face down on the floor, hands cuffed behind his back, within fifteen seconds. Adam spoke with the second officer briefly to let him know what had happened. He was grateful they only asked for his name and cell phone number. They could follow up with him later if they needed more information.

But Adam needed to make sure Karla was all right.

*

Karla huddled in the bathroom stall. She’d locked the stall door in hopes of protecting herself if those guys had come after her. Yeah, some protection. The so-called lock barely kept the door closed for privacy, much less safety.

She couldn’t stop shaking. Her stomach clenched and heaved. At least there was a toilet nearby if she got sick. But it was awfully dirty in here.

The sounds of the fight outside brought tears to her eyes. Adam had only wanted to protect her and now he could be killed. All because she was stupid and selfish.

I just wanna go home. Please, God, protect him and help me get back home.

“Hands in the air!” Then silence. No more grunts, crashes, or groans. Her heart pounded against her chest. She closed her eyes. The rush of blood pounding in her ears blocked out any other sound. Tears streamed down her face.

Please let him be all right. Oh, God, let Adam be all right.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open caused her to back up against the tile wall. She held her breath, hoping they would think she’d left. Stupid. They know you’re in here, Kitty. They can see your feet.

“Karla? Hon, you okay?”

The wind gushed out of her lungs. She’d held her breath so long, she gasped for air several times. Oh my God. Adam!

“It’s over. You can come out now.”

She dropped the backpack, fiddled with the wobbly latch, and opened the stall door. “You’re alive!”

“You know, I think I am.” He sounded surprised.

Relief was short-lived. Oh, no! His beautiful face! “You’re bleeding!” Blood trickled from his lip down to his chin.

“I’m fine. How are you doing?”

Me? How can he think about me at a time like this?

Maybe he was out of his mind from where they’d hit him in the head. Remembering freshman health class and all the times she’d watched Mom patch up Ian, Karla rushed to the sink and pulled out a wad of paper towels, wetting them with cold water. She blinked away the tears. She’d caused him this pain. If she hadn’t run away…

When she turned, she realized she’d never be able to reach his face.

“Kneel down. I need to clean you up.”

He waved her hand away, dismissing her. “I said, I’m fine.” His tone hurt her feelings. She was only trying to help. After all, his injuries were all her fault.

She remembered the tone of voice her Mom used to get Ian to obey her when he’d been stubborn, even when he had grown much taller than Mom. Karla pulled herself to her full five-foot-six-inch height and straightened her shoulders. “I. Said. Kneel. Down.”