7. Cat

Chapter 7

Cat

T he delivery guy is a total asshole, especially when Ranger’s not around. He always gives me and the other girls a hard time. Usually, I can handle it and I don’t let it bother me. He runs his mouth, I ignore him. He unloads the truck, I sign for it and he leaves. A few bad words and threats from him don’t faze me. I’ve handled worse. But this time, he’s decided to get handsy. All the times we’ve ignored him I guess has taken its toll on him, because now he’s determined to get what he wants. Whether I want to give it to him or not. When I shove him away, I expect him to get the hint. But he doesn’t. He pushes me up against the brick wall, the back of my head bouncing off of it and the texture rough against my back.

He’s pushing me against the wall, holding me in place with his body and one arm and his other hand is around my neck, forcing me to look up at him. “I know you’re just a whore for the club. Nothing but a cunt to be used.”

His breath is rancid and I try to pull away from him. Flashbacks of my past start filling my mind and I fight even harder. I won’t be a victim again. But the guy is big and strong. I can’t even get him to give me an inch of room to be able to fight with, or even breathe.

My arms and body are tired from struggling, and right when I’m about to stop, out of nowhere the asshole is pulled off of me and I can breathe again. I’m taking deep ragged breaths, trying to calm myself, but all I can do is watch as Saint pummels the delivery driver.

Saint has a hold of him and kicks his ass, and with each punch he throws, he threatens the guy. He warns him, “You better quit your job because if I see you ever again it’ll be the last anyone ever sees of you.” Each word is slow and deadly. Saint glances at me while he’s saying it and I know what he sees when he looks at me. I’m disheveled, scared and hurt. As if he can’t handle seeing me this way, his hold tightens on the man until I’m sure he’s going to die from lack of oxygen. When I’m sure there’s no turning back, the man will take his last breath, Saint releases him and he falls to a bundle to the floor. He’s moaning and groaning, begging for Saint to let him go.

But Saint shows no mercy. He rears back and kicks him and I’m sure I hear a few ribs breaking under contact. “Get the fuck out!” he bellows at him and kicks him again.

The asshole pulls himself off the floor, leaving behind a puddle of blood. He staggers to the door and leaves the delivery where it stands and flees in his truck, spinning tires, pulling out of the lot.

I slide to my rear on the floor, still trying to catch my breath.

Saint walks over and squats down to look at me. He puts his hand on my knee, and I jerk from his touch. I wait, ready for him to ask for compensation for stepping in. I look at him, waiting, but he just pulls his hand back. “You okay, sweetness?”

I nod my head at him and watch as he cleans up the blood and then starts to bring the delivery in. I get up to help him but he pulls up a stool, pointing at it. “Have a seat. I got this.”

I watch as he brings everything in and starts putting it all away. When I’m a little more steady on my feet, I go to help him. We work side by side, emptying boxes, checking things off, putting it away and breaking down boxes.

The normal mundane task makes me feel more at ease.

When we are down to the last box, we both reach for it at the same time. I put my hand on his. “Thank you, Saint. I know you didn’t have to step in, but I want to thank you for helping me.”

He turns his head to the side and looks at me questioningly. “What do you mean, you know I didn’t have to help?”

I feel my face heat. I guess I’ve upset him. “I just mean, well, the guys I’m used to from before would have not interfered; they would have let it happen, you know, so I just want to say thank you, that’s all.”

He looks at me intently and it makes me wonder if I’ve really pissed him off now. I can see the vein in his neck vibrating under his skin. I must look scared, because he instantly calms and tries to make a joke with me. “First of all, we’re square. You saved me from that killer hangover.” But then his hand flips over and he grabs on to mine, stroking his thumb across my fingers. “Second of all, I know you don’t know me that well, but I promise you this, as long as there’s a breath in me, I’ll always be there for you. I’ll always help you out.”

He looks at me so intently, I can barely breathe. His words hit me right in the heart and I raise my other hand to rub across my chest. He’s right; I don’t know much about him, but what I do know is that he’s not like any man I’ve ever known before. He already has a hold on me in more ways than one. What was at first just lust has now turned into something else. I not only want him, I fucking need him. I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to respond or what he’s waiting for, but we stand there, the one lone box between us, and stare at each other.

“I’m also sorry that I pulled away from you a few minutes ago. Old ghosts, you know.” He starts to talk, but I stop him. “But I know. I know you won’t hurt me. Not like that.”

His face pinches and I know I’ve probably told him too much about my past, probably stuff he doesn’t want to know, but I feel guilty for pulling from him when all he was doing was trying to help me.

He nods his head at me, tightening his hold on my hand.

I look down at our joined hands. His is big, mine small. His is dark, mine light. Even with how different we are, I think we’re more alike than I first thought.

I pull away first, the chemistry so strong between us that I know if I don’t pull back, I’m going to jump into his arms any minute now.

We finish the box and once everything is cleaned up, we go to the back door. He flips the lock on the double doors and we’re standing so close together the attraction between us is undeniable. My body is quivering with need and anticipation. I’m praying he’ll touch me, damn the consequences.