CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

ZAC

I can’t take my eyes off of her as she shuffles back and forth between customers. She avoids a particular table with two men. Troublemakers, I presume.

“Here you go.” My waitress sets a Styrofoam container of food on the counter in front of me.

I hand her my credit card. “Add an extra ten for yourself.”

“Thank you.” She heads off for the register, and I turn my attention back to the blonde-haired, green-eyed goddess.

She walks toward the table of the presumptive troublemakers. Her shoulders are slouched and she’s tearing off a sheet of paper from her server pad. Their bill, I assume.

As she places it on the table, one guy grabs her wrist and tries to pull her onto his lap.

I push away from the counter, prepared to take action.

She snatches ice water off a table and dumps it in his lap.

He leaps to his feet. “What the fuck!” His cheeks turn cayenne pepper red. “Where’s the fucking manager?” He looks at the girl. His eyes are bulging. “You’ll pay for this.”

I think about twisting his ear and dragging him outside, but the girl scurries away and someone taps my shoulder. “Sir?”

I turn.

It’s my waitress. She sets my credit card on the counter next to a receipt and hands me a pen. “Could you sign this, please?”

I sign the receipt.

She picks it up and hands me a copy. “You have a good day.”

“Thanks.” I put the receipt and credit card in my billfold.

A woman in a blue dress is trying to calm down the man with the wet pants.

“I want that fucking waitress fired!” He points to the kitchen where the green-eyed girl has retreated.

“Please calm down, sir.”

“Calm down?” He points at his crotch. “She dumped water on me. I want her fired.”

I glance at the kitchen. A man wearing an apron and a backwards cap is reading the riot act to the girl. I know what’s going on and I know what will happen next. I pick up my food and head for the door, bypassing the man in the wet pants because I’m sure I’ll see him again someday.

I vegetate in a parking lot across the street from the café, and just as I suspect, the girl steps out the back door. She doesn’t make it ten feet before wet pants rounds the corner.

“Hey, bitch.” He’s moving fast.

She glances over her shoulder and takes off. I run after her.

Wet pants catches her before I arrive. He spins her around and she lashes out. Drags her fingernails down his cheek. Draws first blood.

I’m not close enough to stop what’s about to happen, so I holler. No one seems to hear.

“You fucking bitch,” wet pants says and hits her with his right fist.

She twirls somehow, and lands on her knees, then tumbles onto her back and bounces her head off the pavement.

I hear it and cringe.

You fucker.

Now I’m close enough to do something, and I lower my shoulder and strike him like a wrecking ball against a building. We go to the ground.

I end up on top. “You like hitting women?”

He’s panting. “What are you talking about?”

I didn’t think I could get any madder, but I just did. “Fuckin’ cock sucker.” I hit him like a jackhammer hitting pavement. He loses consciousness.

I get off and check the girl. She’s on the ground, not moving. I check her vitals. She’s alive. I tip her head. There’s a gash.

I need to get out of here and she needs a doctor. I did some damage to wet pants and apparently there aren’t any witnesses. I’d like to keep it that way.

I lift the girl into my arms and carry her to my pickup, setting her in on the passenger side. Gently, I close the door. A passerby gives wet pants a double take and walks in his direction.

I hustle around to the driver’s side and hop in. Starting the truck up, I stick it into gear, and head for my house. I dial Chris on the way. Chris was the medic on our Seal team. He saved a lot of lives.

“Meet me at my place and bring your medic bag.”

“What’s up?”

“Just meet me.” I drop the phone on the seat beside me and rub the girl’s leg. She doesn’t move.

I step on the gas.

* * *

I carry her into my bedroom, lay her on the bed, and take off her shoes and socks. Her jeans are ripped and bloody, so I carefully remove them. Her legs are long and lean. I cover them with a blanket and go downstairs to wait.

Chris shows up shortly thereafter. “What’s going on?”

“Got an injured girl up in my room.”

“Girl?”

“Yeah, come on.”

I lead him to my bedroom.

“She’s pretty.” He sets his medical bag on the nightstand. “What happened?”

“Long story short, a guy hit her and she fell and hit her head.” I touched the blanket that was covering her. “Skinned her knee too, so if you could check on that.”

He moves the blanket and winces. “Those blacktop burns can hurt.” He grabs a tube of salve from his bag, administers it to the wound, and applies a Band-Aid, watching her face as he does it. There is no change. She’s still unconscious and feels nothing. He moves his hand up by her head. “You say she banged her noggin?”

“Yeah.”

He observes the wound. “That’s gonna sting.” He splatters salve over it and waves the tube at me. “This stuff works miracles.”

“I hope so.”

Chris digs back into his bag and comes out with his stethoscope and a medical pen light. He checks her vitals and then pulls her eyelids back and studies her pupils.

I rub my forehead. “What do you think?”

“Well, I think she’s going to be fine. But . . .”

“There’s always a but, isn’t there?”

“If she doesn’t wake up in the next six hours, you’ll need to take her to the hospital.”

“Should I take her now?”

Chris scrunches his brows and shakes his head. “As you know, I’ve dealt with things like this before, and I don’t think you’ll need to. She’s going to be fine.”

I quietly exhale. “Thanks, Chris.”

“She’ll probably be groggy tomorrow, so you’ll want to keep her in bed. Give her ibuprofen if she has a headache. Do you want me to stay?”

“I’ve got it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“No problem.” He put his things back in his bag. “Did you see the guy who hit her?”

“Yeah.”

“He still alive?”

“Was breathing when I left.”

“Then I’d say he got off easy.”

“He did.”

Chris taps his bag. “I’ll head out. Keep a close eye on her and let me know if anything changes.”

“I will.” I make a move for the door.

He holds up a hand. “I know my way out.”

“Thanks, Chris.”

I watch him leave and I look at the girl. Fiddling with the blanket, I make sure she’s covered properly. Then I go to the other side of the bed, kick off my shoes, and lie down. I want to be here if she needs me.