The Virgin's Night Out (30 page)

Then he lunged for her.

Rocki shifted her weight and kicked. The fucking corset threw her balance off, but she managed, driving the sidekick straight into his gut. As he stumbled backward, she settled back onto her feet. “I’m not the helpless girl you remember, jackass.”

Cutting a wide berth around him, she started toward her car. She was going to get inside, lock the fucking door, and get away from here. Once she did that, she’d call the cops.

Wine. Chocolate. Flowers. All accounted for. Cole was going to swing by the shop first, make sure she wasn’t there. Part of him kind of hoped she was, and part of him—the very perverted, very male part of him—was wondering if he could talk her into modeling a few pieces she had in her store...for him. It was a fantasy he’d been living with all damn week.

Although he realized that might be sort of rushing things.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her, though.

All the time—she was in his head, all the time. Could you fall in love that fast? Was it healthy to even
think
he could have fallen in love that fast? He was just a couple of weeks out of a break-up, and although it hadn’t been a bad one on his part, he realized he should maybe take things slower with Rocki.

Be patient.

Make sure he wasn’t just reacting to Rocki because of some latent issues with Mara—

His phone rang.

And the ringtone had him swearing.

Speak of the devil...or the Wicked Witch of High Street.

He almost ignored it. But he figured he might as well see what she wanted so he wasn’t ignoring phone calls every ten minutes for the rest of the night. Parking in front of Rocki’s store, he answered the phone.

Dwayne was still damn fast, a fact that Rocki figured out only seconds before she would have been in her car. She saw him coming and darted away, refusing to be caught between him and
any
object, even if it was her car.

“You need to leave me alone,” she warned him, her voice shaking. He needed to leave her alone, and he needed to do it now because damn it, that look in his eyes was terrifying.

Damned terrifying.

“Do I?” He sneered and made another grab for her. This time, thick, strong fingers caught the sleeve of her coat.

With a desperate jerk, she tore away from him, stumbling a little before she caught her balance. “Stop it, Dwayne. You think you’re not going to get
caught
, you fucking idiot? You’ll be the first person they look at.”

He only laughed. This time, when he came after her, he moved too fast. She hit him—something in her hand snapped—she felt it, the hot, vicious pain so bright and hot. Blood fountained from his nose and spilled all over her as he took her down.

The air exploded out of her lungs and seconds later, she was struggling to breathe at all as he shoved his forearm against her throat, using his other hand to tear at the busk of her corset. “Bitch.
My
fucking bitch and you won’t forget it this time.”

Black dots swirled in front of her. Pain, ugly and clawing, tore through her.
Couldn’t black out—couldn’t
. Her right hand was useless. But she’d be damned if she would let this happen to her again. A sweet gust of air rushed into her lungs as he lifted his weight just a little, still struggling to loosen the corset—

The absurd, foolishness of those actions might have made her laugh hysterically if she could have spared the breath. There was no way he’d get her out of it
that
easily. But between his weight crushing her, and the corset itself, she couldn’t laugh at the futility of it—he might as well have been trying to tie his shoes using his teeth.

It cleared her brain just a bit, though. Enough for her to flex her left hand, still laying curled and free on the ground beside her. He thought she wouldn’t fight. Bastard. Brushing her hand along the ground, she searched for something—
anything
. When her hand touched something round, cold and smooth, she gripped it. A bottle—all the bottles that littered the back parking lot. They usually pissed her off.

Just then, she could have kissed the litterbug.

Curling her hand around it, she lifted it. “Dwayne...”

The sound of a scream froze his blood.

Forgetting about Mara’s whining demand for answers, forgetting about everything, Cole took off running up the narrow alley that ran between Rocki’s store and the building next door. As he ran, he called
9-1-1
.

He tore into the back parking lot just in time to see her bringing something down on a man’s head.

She was pinned beneath him—pale, struggling.

Cole exploded.

With a roar, he dove for the other man, taking him down.

The next few seconds passed in a blur, yet some parts were insanely clear. He could remember shoving the bastard to the pavement, could remember driving his fist into his face, once. Twice.

Then he remembered, clear as day, a hand on his arm.

Rocki.

Then there were sirens.

“You’re wasting you’re fucking time,” Dwayne said, his voice thick and nasally, distorted by his broken nose and a swollen lip.

Between the head injury Rocki had dealt him with the broken bottle and the damage Cole had done, the man was not in good shape. But he was still belligerent and full of attitude as he fought against the cop who was slapping him into cuffs.

“Stupid bitch won’t do a damn thing,” he said, smirking at her. “Not a damn thing.”

Rocki stared at him. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

She was pale, shaking from the strain and cradling her right hand. But she wouldn’t go to the hospital. Not yet. Not until she saw that fuck into the police car. Not until she saw them take him away.

And not until she told him. Not until she let him know. He wouldn’t control any part of her life. Not through her memories, not through fear.

Although her legs shook under her with every step, she wasn’t going to hide meekly behind the cops. Even as they tried to pull her back, she evaded them. Clayton tried to block her way and she stopped, looking up at him. “Relax...I’m not going to try and kill him or anything.” Shifting her gaze, she stared around her friend to look at Dwayne. “I want him to suffer more than that.”

Cautiously, Clayton lowered his arm.

Rocki didn’t try to get any closer. “You think I won’t press charges this time,” she said quietly. “Because I didn’t last time. But that’s where you’re wrong. I’ll press charges...and if I can see your ass in jail, I’ll pat myself on the back for it.”

He snarled. “You fucking bitch.”

She smiled.

“I’ll fucking gut you—” One of the cops stepped between them then and started muscling him into the ambulance waiting to take him in for treatment... before he was hauled to the police station. “Should have already done it!”

Rocki ignored him, focusing on the silent, somber-eyed man who waited by yet another ambulance. This one was hers, she suspected. She needed to get her hand looked at. And she was feeling more than a little...disconnected. Shock, maybe?

She didn’t know. Didn’t care. The only thing that mattered just then was getting to Cole and wrapping her arms around his waist. Pain shrieked through her as she hit her busted hand, though, chasing some of the fog away. Whimpering, she shifted around, resting her side against Cole’s front.

As one of the paramedics approached, she shot him a narrow look. “My white knight...”

He didn’t say anything, just curled an arm around her shoulders, his face pressed to her hair.

He was shaking. Shaking almost as badly as she was.

“Damn it, Rocki...”

She closed her eyes at the broken, hoarse sound of his voice. “I’m okay.” Then she flinched as the medic twisted her arm upward. “Okay, I’m hurt...but I’m okay.”

His mouth pressed to her temple. “I don’t think I want to let you out of my sight. Not for a year, at least. We could go to the beach. Stay there for a year. I can make sure you’re safe. You can heal. We’d both be happy.”

“Hmmm. Don’t tempt me.”

“Before you go taking off to the beach, you need to hit the hospital,” the paramedic said. He had a sympathetic look on his face as he gently wrapped her wrist. “You need x-rays.”

Her belly cramped and fear shot through her.
X-r
ays. Those weren’t bad. Right? She could do that. Something had to be broken. She needed to get it set, she knew that. Even though the medicine the paramedic had given had taken the edge off the pain, it still hurt pretty bad. She could handle going to the hospital, getting x-rays and letting them set it. No reason to feel terrified.

But she could already feel that terror creeping through her.

Focusing on the paramedic, she tried not to let the panic show. “Yeah, I figured as much.” The inside of her cheek was all but bloody from how many times she’d bitten it to keep from crying out. Her fingers were fat and swollen, discolored. “Damn, I did a number on them, didn’t I?”

“You did.” A smile twitched on the paramedic’s lips as he glanced at her. “The man may have a head like a rock, but maybe he’ll think twice before he messes with you again. I suspect you broke his nose.”

“Not enough,” Cole muttered behind her. He pressed his lips to her neck and sighed. “It’s not enough.”

The paramedic’s gaze met his—a look passed between them. No, a broken nose wasn’t enough, not nearly.

“What? No...oh, no...” Rocki came up off the table, shrugging away Cole’s hands, ignoring the look on the doctor’s face, ignoring just about
everything
except for one thing.

The door. The door was all that mattered. Because she had to get out of here. He’d just said
surgery
. She’d been prepared for x-rays and maybe
one
shot while they set the bones.
Not
surgery.

“Calm down, Rocki...” Cole caught her around the waist, one gentle hand stroking her hair back. Through the thin cotton of the T-shirt he’d rummaged up from somewhere—she wasn’t putting on those stupid gowns—she could feel the warmth of his back. And if she hadn’t been so
terrified
, she might have relaxed against him, just let him hold her for a while. But the doctor had said
surgery
.

“Calm down?” She shook her head. “No. I won’t calm down, damn it!”

“Ms. Monroe, listen, if we don’t do the surgery, your hand isn’t going to heal right. It’s not just a simple break and the bones in the hand are delicate.”

In the calm, logical part of her brain that could still think past the pain, past the terror, she knew he was making sense. And damn it, she needed her hands. But,
surgery.
Rocki didn’t have too many crippling fears, but surgery was probably one of them. Alright, not probably. It
was
one of them.

Feeling like a foolish child, she turned around and pressed her face against Cole’s chest. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.

“Shhh. It’s okay.”

As she curled against him, Cole thought his heart was going to break. She’d been clinging to control by her fingertips all night, made it through the questioning from Clayton, tolerated the exam, although he’d suspected she had a fear of doctors even then.

Glancing up at the doctor, he asked, “Can you give us a minute?”

He slipped out of the room without another word, and as the door shut behind him, Cole cupped his hand over the back of Rocki’s neck. “You’re afraid of doctors, huh?”

“Not doctors.” Her voice was muffled. She shuddered against him, but he heard her well enough as she whispered, “Surgery. Needles. Those things. Doctors are just fine as long as they don’t use needles. And they can’t do surgery without needles.”

He rubbed her back. He’d followed the ambulance in his own car and he’d snagged his gym bag, figuring she might want to get out of the blood-stained clothes she’d worn. The pretty, pale pink vest-like corset she’d had on over a long-sleeved peasant blouse was ruined. Now she was wearing his faded
Star Wars
tee over a pair of scrub pants and she was trembling. “Sweetheart, you can’t let your hand stay broken, and if you don’t let them fix it, you’ll probably lose some use of that hand.”

Rocki sniffed.

“You don’t want that, right?”

“I’m debating,” she mumbled.

At the sulking, pouting sound of her voice, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Rocki...you need your hands, right?”

“I guess.” She sighed and lifted her head, staring at him. Those bitter-chocolate eyes were a little too bright and her face was flushed pink. The pulse at the base of her neck was racing. “You probably think I’m some sort of basket case.”

“No.” He stroked a hand through her hair and tugged her close, resting his brow against hers. “I think you’ve had one hell of a bad night and now you have to do the one thing you hate. Who wouldn’t be pissed?”

“Pissed. Terrified...yeah, pissed sounds better.” She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. “Today really kind of sucked, you know that?”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes. “Although I can think of one really good thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re
here
.” He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could get that image out of his head, wishing he could do something to wipe away the sound of her scream. “Damn it, Rocki.”

“Hey...” She eased away, peering up at him. “I’m fine. Well. Mostly.” She gave her hand a look of acute dislike and then looked back at him. “I’m fine. But now that you mention it...I can think of a good thing, too. You were
there
. And you’re here now. So that’s two good things.”

There was a knock at the door.

“It’s probably the doctor.” Good thing, because he needed a minute to get his balance again, to calm down before he broke. He kept thinking about how easily he could have lost her. And he’d just found her .

Rocki went white. Then she closed her eyes. “Come in.” Without turning to look at the doctor, she blurted out, “I’m about to have a panic attack, even thinking about surgery...can you do something about that?
Please
?”