Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
“Don’t hurt me,” I finally manage to wheeze. “If you want money, you can have my money. I have tips from t-t-t-t-tonight.”
He smiles, showing a row of rotting teeth. “I’ll be taking your money, but not until I take you first.”
No.
I attempt to squirm, but he takes a menacing step forward, grip tightening on my arm, and the cold steel of a knife presses into my stomach. He’s not joking. One plunge and I’m dead. A tear bursts forth and rolls down my cheek as I realize what’s about to happen, but, mostly, it’s the fact that I am powerless to stop it. Never in my life have I felt so terrified.
Pathetically, I try once more, “My name is Bonnie, I’m only twenty-seven. I have a family. I have friends. I have a job and a home.”
I can’t remember where I saw to tell your attacker about your life, hell, it probably almost never works, but right now I’ll do anything to get away from this.
“Shut up,” he growls, pushing the knife in a little, just enough for it to remind me that he could kill me in seconds.
Closing my eyes, I can only pray.
Pray that I make it out of this alive.
Tears roll down my cheeks.
Then, as if my prayers are answered, the weight of the man is suddenly gone. Eyes slowly opening, I stare in shock as Western stands, holding the man by his shirt, the knife somehow now in his own hand. He tosses the man onto the ground harshly, as if he weighs nothing, before turning on the other one, panting with rage, the knife dangling from his fingers. The other man turns, scurrying off, not taking his chances.
From the ground, the remaining man stands, staring at Western as if he’s actually weighing up whether he can take him on or not, then, he turns and disappears into the night. Without a single word, Western managed to get two men to run into the cold night. Meeting his eyes, tears still rolling down my cheeks, I try to think of something to say but nothing comes out. My entire body goes limp, and I fall to the ground as a pained sound leaves my lips. It’s not a sound of relief, it’s a sound of pure shock and terror over the situation that very nearly unfolded.
I can’t breathe.
Hunching forward, bringing my knees to my chest, I drop my head into them and struggle to get any air into my lungs.
Figuring Western will turn and leave, I am surprised when I hear the gruffest, deepest, most masculine voice that my ears have ever had the pleasure of listening to, say, “Breathe.”
Lifting my head, I see Western squatting down in front of me, that knife still in his hand, elbows on his knees as he looks at me.
I’ve never been so close to him.
My breath hitches as I meet his gaze.
I have so many things I want to say, but nothing comes out, nothing except another strangled sob.
“Breathe.”
He repeats the same word, his voice so rugged it sends shivers up my spine.
I close my eyes again, and I focus on breathing, dragging air into my aching lungs and forcing it back out, until the terror slowly subsides and my body stops trembling. Only then do I open my eyes.
He’s still there, in front of me, just watching me.
His face is expressionless, but he hasn’t left me alone.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
A sharp nod, and then he stands.
I get to my feet, and he reaches out, opening my car door. Looking to him, just praying he’ll say something else, I wait for a moment. He doesn’t speak, so I slide into my car, legs still a little wobbly. Only when I have started the car and he has closed the door does he turn and begin walking away. Rolling down my window, I call out. “Western?”
He pauses, turning to look at me.
“Thank you,” I say again.
“My name isn’t Western,” he grates out, his voice that of a wounded man, deep and yet holding a hint of grit, as if it pains him to speak. “It’s Nightmare.”
With that, he disappears.
Leaving me alone in the parking lot.
Both humbled and afraid.
A mixture of emotion only he could manage.
5
“You need to quit,” Leo says, walking me into the club the next night for work. “I can’t have you working here where you could be fucking attacked in the parking lot.”
“We’ve been over this,” I explain. “I’ll park out front, and my boss told me they will have me escorted by a bouncer to my car from now on. Sometimes, these things happen. You can’t put your life on hold because of it.”
Pausing, Leo turns to stare down at me with a mixture of shock and anger. “I’m the only person who knows about this stupid little job you’ve taken, but let me assure you, Bonnie, that if your mother knew she would have half of the town in here dragging you out. Because I’m the only person that knows, I get a say in what happens. I don’t fucking like it, it’s dangerous, and you’re going to get hurt. You need to stop and find another way to get your damned story.”