Page 86 of Burn

The throb of pain in my hands dissolves, and I know my knuckles are broken, but I don’t think anything has ever felt as good as hitting this mother fucker does, so I keep going.

Someone pulls at my shirt, and I slam my elbow back, connecting with whoever deigned to stop me. It’s only seconds before two hands grab me and pull back hard enough to drag me away from the pile of flesh and bones that used to be a man.

Nope. Not enough.

I push forward, but hands land on my chest this time, and I hear the voice.

Jordan’s voice comes in loud and clear, “Enough! He’s had enough. You’re done!”

I can barely breathe, and my voice is desperate when I boom, “He fucking touched her!”

He keeps talking. I know I respond, but none of it sinks into my chaotic brain. It’s not until a choked gasp sounds close behind me that I remember Lex is here.

Oh, fuck.

She’s on her hands and knees and has crossed most of the rough ground to get to me. I step to her and fall to my knees. I’ll probably feel it tomorrow, but my adrenaline has every pain receptor blissfully muted. I pull her into my lap, and grip her face, and fuck. Her right cheek is already covered in a deep purple bruise. Blood from her nose has covered her lips andchin and has started to dry. Her stormy eyes are frantic and somewhat unfocused.

Concussed. She’s for sure concussed.

She tries to turn her head to look toward that piece of shit bleeding out on the ground, but I catch her chin and pull her focus back to me, pleading with her. “Stay with me, Lex.”

Her eyes roam my face, scanning from one side to the other, up and down, back and forth, but they stay on me until paramedics pull us apart.

???

“Ms. Donnelly, I know this is hard,” the officer says in a calming tone. “But it’s important we get the details while they’re fresh in your mind.”

Lex is seated in the back of an ambulance. Her eyes are glassy, and she stares straight ahead, focused on nothing in particular. The cop has asked her the same question three times, and I’m getting unreasonably angry.

Can’t this idiot see she’s concussed?

The officer clicks the end of her pen, again and again, and I have to stop myself from ripping it out of her hands and throwing it across the lot.

“Let’s try again. Do you know the name of the person who assaulted you?”

I groan, scrubbing my hand down my face. The coppery smell of blood fills my lungs, and the female officer shoots me an annoyed look. I’m about to snap, demand the cop back the fuck off, when Lex’s shaky, quiet voice breaks the tension.

“His name is Aaron Turner.”

“Okay, good. What did you consume tonight?”

“Some salad, a little bread…” Her voice trails off.

The officer nods. She wasn’t asking about dinner. I know it, she knows it, but Lex is too out of it to understand the question, so I step in closer. She flinches away from me, and my stomach drops. I move away, not wanting to… fuck. I don’t know. I turn to the officer. Her eyes are fixed on me, narrowed.

“She had a few glasses of champagne. I’m not sure how many.”

I glance at the name badge: Delacroix. Constable Delacroix studies me, her gaze flicks from my face, down my arms, to my hands, still covered in blood, before shooting back up to my eyes. Her tone is terse when she says, “I asked Ms. Donnelly, not you. Do you make it a habit to answer on her behalf?”

What the hell?

I stand up straighter, cross my arms, and say, “Excuse me?”

Constable Delacroix smirks and nods knowingly, “Oh yeah, big, tough man. Squaring up with a woman?”

Oh, come on!

“I had five or six glasses of champagne over the course of the day.” Lex’s hollow voice again cuts through the thick intensity lingering between the officer and me.

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