Now, both he and the bulky guy—who for some reason hasn’t said a thing yet—square up against my boss. I’m frightened for him, but waste no time using the fact that I’m free to finally pull my jeans up. I try to get up, gripping onto something soft and soggy, not looking down to see what it is—my focus too intent on the two men sizing Charlie up, not one yet making the first move. I somehow manage to get to my feet, stumbling a little as I do, but a grip onto the side of the dumpster stops my fall, the pain in my pelvic area making me double over.
“Are you okay?” Charlie asks me, not looking my way. His eyes are set square on the two men.
No, I’m not okay. Everything hurts, especially my groin which pounds like a motherfucker.
“I’m fine,” I answer, wiping off all the dust that’s gathered on my jacket and jeans. I’m going to need a long shower and then get rid of these clothes—preferably burning them.
“Which one of you arseholes want to go first?”
What the fuck is Charlie doing goading these two? Little guy was one thing, but now he has two beefy guys ready to take him down. One part is telling me to run, while the other part can’t seem to find my legs. For some reason, Charlie hasn’t told me to use this time to escape. Why?
Then all too soon, I find out exactly why. I’m in no danger now that Charlie’s here.
Knowing they have an advantage, both guys step forward to throw punches. Charlie ducks under the punch from the guy who was holding me down and gives him a quick jab in his ribs. He bowls over, gripping onto his side, momentarily incapacitated from the blow, but then Charlie knees him in the nose, another crunch permeating my ears. I still can’t move as I watch this beast of a man, mouth still wide open at what I’m witnessing. With lightening reflexes unlike anything I have ever seen on a man, Charlie grabs the bulky guy’s arm, throws it over his head, and with his other hand, pushes his elbow in. The inevitable snap comes soon after followed by a cry of pain from the guy who hasn’t spoken a word yet. Another knee to the face, and both guys have broken noses. Charlie steps forward, ready to go again, but the two hard men are not so hard now. They take off, running as fast as their feet are able. My eyes follow them until they disappear out of sight, then they land back on Charlie, a scowl marring his face as he looks towards where they fled.
With a quick flick of his coat, his face changes, his eyes focusing in on me standing there, my mouth still agape. It’s only when I see concern in his eyes that I falter. Without thinking, I run to him, throwing my arms around his waist.
“Thank you,” I muffle into his coat, snuggling my face into his chest. I’m safe now.
Charlie remains stoic, clearing his throat. “Did you know any of them?”
Lifting my head up, I notice the discomfort on his face. He doesn’t want me cuddling him. I step away, giving him the space he’s after, his sigh of relief like a punch in the gut.
“No. I don’t know who they are.” My fuzzy head starts to clear a little, my mind jolting to Charlie and the way he handled those three men like he’s Jack fucking Ryan. “Where did you learn to fight like that?” He certainly didn’t learn those skills from the gym. He’s been places, learnt that shit from somewhere.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re okay.” There’s defiance in his voice. He doesn’t like me prying into his private life.
I’m about to answer that I’m fine again when the revving of a familiar bike comes into view, spewing dust up in its wake.
Chris, immediately coming to a stop, throws his helmet off, scowling in the direction of my boss. “I heard you screaming on the phone. What the fuck happened?”
Running towards Chris, I lay a hand on his chest. “It’s okay. Three men jumped me, but Charlie scared them off.”
Chris’s head snaps to mine, both concern and anger burning in his deep blue eyes. “Some men fucking jumped you?” I nod my head. Chris frantically searches my body. “Did they hurt you? I swear, I’m going to kill those mother…”
“Chris, stop. It’s fine. I’m fine. If it wasn’t for my boss, I wouldn’t be.”
Chris wraps his arm around me, pulling me into his chest, his eyes square on Charlie now. “Thanks for your help. I can take it from here.” Chris’s jaw is ticcing, his lips forming a hard line. He’s pissed that he wasn’t here to save me himself and even more pissed that he’s had to thank someone else for doing his job. I can read him like a book.
My eyes dart to Charlie, who simply nods his head and walks back into his shop like he hasn’t a care in the world. I should be reeling from my attack, but all I can focus on is what I saw. All I can think about is the way he took those guys out so effortlessly you would think he was simply taking out the trash.
“What the fuck happened here?” Chris asks, his voice panic-stricken and angry.
Exhaustion setting in, I sigh. “Can we not talk about it right now? All I want to do is get home and take a shower. I smell like shit.”
“Do you still have that spare helmet in your boot?” Unable to speak, I nod my head. Tears want to spring, but I’m willing them down. “Go get it. I’m taking you home.”
“I can dri…”
“Fuck, Bri, will you just listen to me for once? The car can stay here. I can bring you to work next time.”
I note the fact that he didn’t say tomorrow. Just next time. I don’t want to argue with him. I simply haven’t got the energy to. So I open the boot and grab the spare helmet while Chris grabs my bag and phone which are still scattered on the floor from my attack.
Then it dawns on me.
I was attacked. They were going to rape me—teach me a lesson. A lesson for what?
Chris takes the helmet from my hand and places it on my head. He grabs the helmet in both hands, making me look at him. “I’m going to get you home, okay? You’re safe now, baby. No one will ever hurt you again. Got it?”
Tears well my eyes as I nod my head. Chris zeroes, his eyes narrowing, anger present from my distress. He drops his hands from my helmet, grabbing mine to pull me to the bike. His swift movements tell me he wants to get out of here as quickly as possible and have me home where I belong.
Pulling my leg up to wrap it around the bike, I wince, remembering the pain from being kicked.
“What’s wrong?” Chris asks, panicked.
Stealthily, I climb on his bike, wrapping my arms around him. “I’m fine. It’s okay. Please, let’s just get home.”
With no further hesitation, the bike’s engine comes roaring to life, and then we’re off, cool air hitting my body. With a slight shiver, I place my hands into the pockets of Chris’s jacket and concentrate on watching the world go by.
With the advantage of being on the bike, we beat the rush hour traffic, zooming past all the cars, and arriving home a few minutes later. Chris is off the bike, immediately tending to me, careful with every movement he makes—almost as if he thinks I will break. He takes my helmet off, brandishing a sad smile before grabbing my hand and leading me to the elevator. On the way up, he simply takes me into his arms, kissing the top of my head.
That’s when the dam bursts. Great, big, fat tears spill out of my eyes and soak into Chris’s jacket. All the while he just holds me, gently leading me to our apartment. I continue to cry as he runs a bath and undresses me. When the water’s filled, he gently places me in the bath, the warmth of it stinging my vaginal region. I close my eyes against the pain, desperately trying to hide a wince that wants to let rip.