RUSH (City Lights, #3)(74)

Then a hard, scratchy voice broke the silence, making me jump.

“That’s far enough.”

Three simple words and yet promising so much danger and violence. We froze, and Noah’s grip tightened on my arm until it was all I could feel; my body that was numb with fear.

“Your cash and your suitcase,” said the low voice. “Yell for help and she dies. Run and she dies. You won’t see her, blind boy, but you’ll hear her scream just before I slit her throat.”





Chapter Twenty-Four


Noah

Even through fear clenched my stomach like a vise, the ridiculousness of being mugged twice in one week wasn’t lost on me. The only difference was the first time around, I was alone, stupid, and looking for it; flying on adrenaline just like the good old days. But that night with Charlotte, the kind of fear that coursed through my veins now was slow and thick like sludge. I had one thought and one thought only.

Whatever happens, he doesn’t touch Charlotte.

“Turn around, now,” the man said, and I could hear the scuffle of his shoes, a dance from foot to foot. “Slow. Nice and slow.”

We turned.

“He has a knife,” Charlotte whispered to me in a voice so strangled by fear I hardly recognized it.

A knife, not a gun. “Run, Charlotte,” I whispered.

“No.”

“Run.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

Damn her. She was risking her life. For me. Had I been sighted, I’d make her run. I’d push her if I had to, but I was shackled by darkness. Weak. I could hurt her by mistake, or make things worse in ways I didn’t dare imagine.

“Shut up, both of you. No one’s running anywhere.”

He sounded about fifteen feet away but drawing closer. I moved between Charlotte and the mugger, keeping her behind my arm and gripped my white stick tightly in my other hand.

“Drop the stick.”

Fuck no. The cane was lightweight but had a long reach, and was the only weapon I had. Rage was fast drowning my fear in a molten flood at this * for threatening Charlotte, for making her so scared. But he sounded young. Possibly fast. Possibly able to chase Charlotte down if I f*cked up. Then things would get a whole lot uglier.

“Okay, man, be cool,” I said. The white-stick hit the ground, made a sound like defeat. “I’m going to give you my wallet. I’ve got at least a hundred bucks in there…”

“And her purse,” the guy said. “And her case.”

I ignored the last, and I leaned in to Charlotte. “Put your purse on the ground.”

I felt her comply, and I did the same with my wallet, all the while, my nerves were lit up like a switchboard, and I mentally screamed at my brain to f*cking work and show me the knife-wielding criminal on the other side of the black curtain.

“We’re going to back away now,” I said.

“Are you deaf too, f*cker?” the guy said. “I want the case. Instruments sell for plenty.”

“Noah,” Charlotte whimpered. “Let’s just do what he says.”

“Smart bitch.” I heard the guy move, a scrape of shoe against asphalt, and I jerked backward. He laughed. “You can’t see shit, can you? I could stab you in the throat and then f*ck your girl six ways from Tuesday, and there’d be nothing you could do about it, eh?”

Under the sudden thrashing of blood in my ears, Charlotte give a little cry. I reached and found her hand holding the violin. I pried her fingers loose—she was petrified by fear—and gripped it tightly in my own hands. The idea of giving her violin to this guy made me sick to my stomach. Charlotte’s parents had scraped by to save up for it; she’d had it since before her brother died…But what choice did I have? Charlotte was all that mattered.

“Here, man.” I set the case down, hating myself for giving it up. “You have everything now. We’re going to keep walking…”

“You don’t get to say what happens,” the guy scoffed. “I say. And I say I’d like some time alone with that sweet bitch over there.”

I heard the scuffle again and knew he was approaching even before Charlotte spoke.

“He’s coming,” she cried. “Noah…!”

My instincts took over; they were all I had in the first place. I shoved Charlotte behind me and barked at her to run. The guy rushed at me, and I grabbed the violin case off the ground and brought it up like a shield. I expected to feel the edge of his knife open my cheek, or plunge into my throat, as promised. But I heard his blade scrape against the hard plastic case. I shoved forward with all I had, and he grabbed on, locking us together as Charlotte screamed for help.

I smelled rotten teeth, sour sweat, alcohol. I think I had his knife-hand pinned between himself and the case, but that wouldn’t last. I yanked the case toward me, then shoved it back at him again. The guy grunted, I felt his knife tear the sleeve of my leather jacket, and then the case was ripped out of my hands.

The mugger hit the ground with another grunt, and then Charlotte’s hands were on my arm, pulling me away, crying for me to run with her. I hated that that guy was going to get her violin but Charlotte needed to be safe. I took her arm and let her guide me away, running like a f*cking coward.

I heard the quiet street open up to sounds: passing cars and voices, even at this late hour. We stopped to catch our breaths, and Charlotte’s hands were suddenly on me, patting me down, and it took me a second to realize she was searching for injury. She found the tear in my jacket, gave a little cry, and hauled up the sleeve to inspect my arm.