CHAPTER69
All my vulnerable woe flits away into panic as I realize what Jake intends to do. Jake boxes and practices martial arts as a fitness regime, and he used to be a scrapper in his teens, always in trouble. I know he’s a fighter, but I’m still beyond terrified; Ray and Jake are equally matched in body size, similar in height, and definitely in aggression, so there’s no telling what the outcome will be, and I can’t bear it.
I run after him screaming his name manically. He’s much faster than I am, though, and he’s already out of the building tearing off in the direction of a lone figure walking in the distance. Jake can run like the wind. Even kicking my stilettos off and running barefoot, I can’t begin to catch up. My body pumping adrenaline fast, I get a cramp in my leg so badly I fall. Panic sears through me as I try to get up. They’re too far from me to really see what’s happening but the figures have collided, a jumble of blurry shapes, a joined mass of movement, arms coming out and throwing back with force.
Oh, my god. Jake, no!
One figure steps back, holding the other by the throat, and throws a punch with a short swing; the other hits the ground. Then the two are joined, rolling around once more.
I feel sick. I’m trying so hard to get up, dizziness and nausea fighting with my mind to take over, tears pouring down my face, full blown hysteria consuming me.
God, please, don’t let him hurt my Jake.
The cramp begins to fade, and I haul myself up and stagger toward them looking for anything to use as a weapon to defend him. My bare feet make running almost impossible.
I get closer and see Jake has Ray by the shoulders as he brings his knee up into the man’s abdomen twice, the contact thudding as Ray snorts out with pain at every collision then falls into a heap. Jake hauls him back up and delivers three precise blows to his face, head, and body before Ray crumbles to the ground again, motionless. Jake, in a powerful boxer stance, towers over him glaring with a fire I’ve never known from him.
I manage to close the gap and throw myself at Jake desperately, my clothes dirty and ripped, but I don’t care. I swing myself around his neck enveloping him, grabbing onto him in despair and relief, as if to shield him from harm.
“No more. Please, no more,” I beg, feeling his heart pounding through his chest as we press together; his breathing is shallow, and he’s perspiring. His arms come around my waist, pulling me in hard against his strong body, and he turns me so I can look down at Ray Vanquis. He’s completely out cold, laid out on the damp, dirty pavement looking pathetic. This devil of a man looks almost pitiful now.
“Tell me what you want me to do with him, Emma.” His voice is breathy, the serious tone terrifying, hinting that he’ll literally do whatever I ask, even if that means killing him. I catch the rage in his green eyes, making them almost luminescent. This is not my Jake. This is a primal, carnal version of my Jake, and I want him to leave. I need my normal Jake back. I need his face, his voice, and his arms here with me.
“Leave him here, leave him to rot in the street,” I whisper, burying my face against his neck as his hand comes to cradle my head protectively. He rests his mouth against my temple and breathes out slowly, some of the tension in his body releasing as he sags against me, using me to calm down and disperse all the anger and adrenaline coursing through his veins.
We stand silent for agonizingly long minutes as I watch Ray’s huddled body on the damp, dark ground. He doesn’t stir at all, and I begin to worry Jake has killed him.
“We should call the cops,” Jake utters flatly, finally. His breathing has calmed to normal with his arms around me, and it is all I can focus on.
“No, let him go. My mother blames me for enough already; this will only send her over the edge,” I stammer hopelessly. His fingers slide under my chin to bring my face to his, showing the confusion in the depths of those green eyes, and I shake my head.
“Please don’t make me tell you. Not right now. One day, Jake, I promise.” He frowns, pushing his forehead against mine firmly as though he’s trying to reel in the frustration and anger, but still respects my wishes. The fire blazes in his eyes, but he just exhales deeply. His jaw is tense, which only adds to that male aggression in his look.
I can’t help but think how breathtaking he looks in protective, fighter mode, with the scariness gone and just overwhelming masculinity left. He’s nothing like the men from my childhood who were aggressive and cruel. They liked to inflict pain on me, but Jake isn’t that way; for all his strength and power, he’s the gentlest person I’ve ever known when it comes to women. A real man, in my eyes.
He hauls me away from the lifeless body on the ground, then stops; thinking for a moment, he bends down and places a hand on Ray’s throat to check for a pulse, his other hand still on my waist. He pauses, taking a count, sneers, then straightens up.
“He’ll live, unfortunately,” Jake growls, then delivers a swift kick to the man’s ribs in passing, extruding a muffled grunt. He pulls me off in the direction of the apartment, his arm tightly around my shoulders now, keeping me pressed against him. I can feel the ripple of adrenaline still coursing through him, but we walk in silence.
“Thank you,” I smile up at him honestly. I know thanking him for physically beating someone up for me is wrong in so many ways, but somehow teen Emma, broken and cowering at the hands of that evil man, raises her sweet innocent head and smiles. Jake says nothing, just leans down and kisses me tenderly on the forehead, lingering a moment before giving me a gentle squeeze. We walk as he pulls me along until he stops to pick up my discarded shoes. Realizing I’m barefoot, he picks me up and carries me the rest of the way. I don’t protest; I just hold on and curl up within his embrace and feel safe.
Jake, my boss. My friend. My protector. The first person in my life who has ever risen to the challenge of being one for me. No one else in my life deemed me worthy of fighting for."
