2

Will

The dim lighting in the lower-level bar hid the bruise on the side of Tina's face well. But I still knew it was there. I saw the yellow and blue marks when she walked past me toward the well-lit kitchen.

I sat at the end of the bar while she waited on tables and tried to ignore me.

Her piece-of-shit boyfriend was on the other side of the bar, nursing his fourth beer and arguing with a stranger about the Yankees.

"What happened?" I asked her when she returned with my whiskey.

"Nothing," she said and dropped the glass in front of me. Liquid sloshed from her shaky hand and onto the polished wood.

"Shit," she whispered and grabbed the towel in the pocket of her apron to clean it up.

I leaned in close to her ear. "Did he do this to you?"

"No."

She was lying.

I could tell by the way she avoided my eyes and the tightness around her mouth. I'd never caught her boyfriend mistreating her, but there was an awful feeling in my gut I couldn't ignore.

I'd been coming to the bar at least twice a week for months now. At first for my own pleasure, but after I spotted bruises on the waitress's body, I started coming for her.

I'd been trying to get her to open up to me for weeks, but she didn't budge.

Before she left, I slipped a card into her apron pocket. "Put that in your work locker," I said. "If you ever need to get away, you can call me or call that number. Someone will get you."

She frowned. "I don't need any help." Then, she grabbed the card, slammed it next to my drink on the bar, and walked away.

I sighed and dropped my head into my hands.

Damn it. It was too soon.

I stared at the amber liquid in the glass in front of me and beat myself up for not being more patient with her. I took the glass and threw it back, swallowing the burn as it seeped down my chest.

It was nearly two o'clock in the morning, the bar would be closing soon. I watched the boyfriend closely as he sucked back another beer.

I watched the highlights of the baseball game on the television while I waited.

Finally, the lights came on and everyone was told it was closing time. Some people groaned, but mostly everyone picked up their belongings and walked toward the front door. Her boyfriend struggled to get up. He tipped over a chair as he attempted to raise himself.

"Tina, get your boyfriend's drunk ass out of here," said the owner.

"Yes, Sonny."

Tina rushed over to the drunk and tried to put his arm around her shoulder. It kept falling off.

I walked over. "Here, let me help you."

"I don't need—"

I ignored her obvious attempt to get rid of me and yanked her boyfriend up by his waist. "Pull your car around to the front and I'll drop him into the back seat."

She hesitated for a second, then nodded and left.

Alone with the piece-of-shit, I was tempted to threaten him. But I knew whatever I said now, he wouldn't remember it the next day. Yet, I couldn't stop the words from coming out of my mouth.

"Listen up, asshole." I jostled him until he half stood with his arm around my shoulder. "You're going to sleep this off and not argue or fight with your girlfriend tonight. You got that?"

He mumbled something incoherent under his breath. His eyes were glassy and red and I was under no delusion that he understood what I'd said. But I was hoping, somehow, under the fog of his drunkenness, the words would seep through.

When we reached the entrance, I had to drag his ass up the front steps to the sidewalk. Tina waited with the car running.

The man dry heaved beside me, and I reacted quickly. Turning his body away from me and toward a trash can, I waited as he threw up the contents of the night.

It reeked of something foul and I had to swallow down my own nausea.

"I'm so sorry," Tina apologized, rushing toward me. But I shook my head.

"Just wait there. He's not done."

I held him up as he continued to empty his stomach into the dirty garbage.

When nothing more came out and he was only retching air, I used his shirt to wipe his mouth.

He could barely move. When Tina opened the backseat of the car, I practically pushed him inside, then lifted his legs onto the car floor.

Slamming the door behind him, I turned to Tina. "He should sleep the rest of the night."

She nodded. Probably as familiar as I was with the routine. "Thanks."

I wanted to say more, but she had refused my help, so I would take this as a win and keep it short. "You're welcome."

Saying nothing more, she opened the driver's door and started the car. I waited on the sidewalk with my arms crossed until she turned the corner. When she was gone, I headed toward my car.

With a sigh, I started the ignition, then rubbed my face with my hands.

I'd just put the car in reverse when my phone rang. It was two in the morning. Not many people called this number at this hour, except for my friends.

"Are you up?" Gabrielle's low voice came through the Bluetooth.

"Yes."

"Can you help me tonight?"

She always asked, despite me never having once turned her down.

"Yes."

"Thank you. I'll send you the address."

She hung up the phone. Our conversations were usually this short. She was busy, and I didn't waste her time asking questions. I knew what she needed me to do, and I was happy to do it.

My phone pinged with a new text message. Glancing at the address, I realized it wasn't too far from where I was now. It shouldn't take me more than ten minutes to get there. That was good because I knew how important timing was in these situations.

Despite the late hour, the streets weren't empty. They weren't as busy as Times Square, but more people were walking about than one would expect in a residential neighborhood.

When I pulled up at the address, the lights were on and I could hear shouting and a baby crying from my car. The sound of this stranger's voice awoke the beast inside of me, one I tried hard to control in situations like these. But it wasn't easy.

I drew in a deep breath, then turned off my car and raced up the porch steps. Banging on the door, I announced myself. "Open the door, or I'll break it down."

The baby continued to cry, but the shouting stopped for a second.

"Who the fuck is that?" The man's voice penetrated through the thin wooden door. Peeking through the cut-out window, I saw a woman wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt holding a sniffling, red-faced baby, probably about eight months old.

The woman didn't answer the question.

So, I answered instead. "I'm not the police, but you need to open this door before I break it down."

The woman moved toward the front door, but he pulled her back. "Don't you fucking move."

The baby screamed again, and the mother hushed him soothingly, clutching him to her chest.

Then she turned to the man. "I'm leaving."

"The hell you are."

"Get out of my way."

She tried to walk past him, but he stepped in front.

"The only way you're going to leave this house is through a body bag."

My stomach churned, and it took everything in my power to push the memories aside and focus on this situation.

The man reached for her, and I sprang into action.

With my boot, I kicked the door open in one motion, knowing exactly where the wood was weakest.

The woman jumped, and the man stood still for a second, probably in shock, then grabbed her and put one arm around her neck and the other around her waist.

Coward.

Using his woman and his baby as a shield, thinking I'd walk away. What he didn't know was that I was trained in hostage situations.

I also knew that the angle he held her could never snap her neck. At worst, he could block her airway, but I would reach him before he could ever choke her out. So, I took my time and tried to diffuse the situation first.

Raising my hands in a show of surrender, I hoped to calm him down. "Let's talk about this," I said.

He narrowed his eyes incredulously. "You just broke my door down and you want to talk? Who the fuck are you, man?"

"I'm here to take your woman and baby someplace safe until you're ready to be with them again."

He shook his head. "Nah. That's not gonna happen. So, you can take yourself on out of here."

The man didn't sound drunk. He wore a business suit and tie, but it didn't mean he would be easier to reason with. A drunk man was slow and sloppy. This man didn't seem to be either.

"Then let them go, so we can discuss it."

"There's nothing to discuss. Now, get out of my house before I call the cops. This is still New York and you're breaking and entering."

I knew if he somehow managed to call the police, I would be the one in handcuffs. Sometimes, it was a lot harder to put a man away for emotionally abusing his partner than breaking down his door.

But I wasn't backing down. And neither was he.

Throughout the stand-off, the baby had stopped crying. His big watery eyes stared at me. And a roar simmered deep in my belly.

"Fine. I'll leave."

I prayed my tactic worked. I dropped my hands slowly to my sides and walked backward towards the door. I knew I could reach for my gun behind my jacket, but I hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Just as I turned my back and placed my hand on the knob, I heard the woman's swift intake of breath. As I'd hoped, he had either released her from his hold or at the very least loosened his grip.

This is my chance!

I closed my eyes, visualizing my movements, remembering exactly where the man had stood ten seconds ago.

Then, I whipped back around and grabbed the man's shoulders, pulling him toward me before he could tighten his hold on the woman again.

She escaped his grasping hands and ran toward the front door.

I held the man in a vise grip, my arms in the perfect position to snap his neck if I wished to end the son-of-a-bitch's life.

"My car is outside. I'll be right there behind you."

The woman blinked several times as she looked between us for a moment. Then she clutched her baby tightly to her chest and ran out the door.

My fingers twitched to finish this. I'd come into these homes enough times to know it didn't always end here. Sometimes the women came back, and sometimes the men found them. Sometimes, there was a happy ending, and it was those times that kept me from pulling my gun and ending it right here.

The man tried to kick behind him, but this wasn't my first scrimmage. "You're going to get yourself some help because you're no good right now for her or your baby."

"Fuck you, man. Who the hell are you, anyway?"

I leaned into his ear and whispered, "I'm that baby all grown up."

Then I jerked my knee up and slammed his temple hard against it.

Lights out, asshole.

I closed the door behind me and hoped he got the message.

When I returned to the car, the baby slept peacefully in his mother's arms. She leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. Creases formed around her mouth and a tear fell down her cheek.

"Is he all right? Did you… you know…"

A part of me wanted to. It always did.

"He's fine. He'll have a headache in the morning, but he'll be alright. Just make sure you take care of yourself."

She sighed. "I will."

I nodded and hoped that was the truth. I hoped she would not return and give him another chance, not until he got his shit together. I hoped she and that baby would have a long future together because that had not been the case for me and my mother.