Page 42 of Friar
“Wrangler’s checking the alley,” Hawk said, holding the door open for me.“Wait here a sec.”
I stepped outside, the crisp autumn air a sharp contrast to the warm shop.The shopping bag dangled from my fingers, swinging slightly in the breeze.The street seemed oddly quiet for mid-afternoon.A few cars were parked along the curb, but the sidewalk was empty of pedestrians.Even the coffee shop next door had its blinds half-drawn, the OPEN sign flickering weakly in the window.
Hawk frowned, scanning the area with narrowed eyes.“Something’s not right,” he muttered, reaching for his phone.
That’s when I saw it, a black sedan with tinted windows idling across the street, engine running.There was something ominous about its stillness, like a predator waiting to pounce.My heart stuttered in my chest as a chill that had nothing to do with the weather crept up my spine.
“Hawk,” I started to say, pointing toward the car, but the words died in my throat as the sedan’s engine revved, loud and threatening in the quiet street.
Everything seemed to slow down.The car lurched forward, tires squealing against asphalt as it swerved across the center line, directly toward me.Headlights gleamed in the afternoon sun, blindingly bright as they bore down on me.
I couldn’t move.Couldn’t breathe.My muscles locked in place as primal terror flooded my system.The shopping bag slipped from my suddenly numb fingers, the small green hat and booties tumbling onto the dirty sidewalk.
Time stretched and warped.I could see the driver’s silhouette behind the tinted windshield, a dark shape without features.I could hear Hawk shouting something, his voice distant and distorted as if I were underwater.I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs, each beat a desperate plea to run, to move, to protect the life growing inside me.
But I remained frozen, a deer caught in headlights as death barreled toward me at forty miles per hour.
The world exploded into noise and motion.A motorcycle’s engine roared, cutting through my paralysis as effectively as a slap to the face.Nugget appeared out of nowhere, his bike a blur of chrome and black paint as he swerved between me and the oncoming car.Time compressed, then expanded.One second he was astride his motorcycle, the next he was airborne, launching himself toward me with reckless abandon.
I caught a glimpse of his face, eyes wide with determination, jaw set, before his body collided with mine.His arms wrapped around my waist, one hand cradling the back of my head as he twisted mid-air, positioning himself to take the brunt of our fall.The impact knocked the breath from my lungs.We hit the ground hard, skidding across rough concrete that tore at my clothes and scraped my exposed skin.
Behind us, metal screeched against metal as the black sedan clipped Nugget’s abandoned motorcycle.The bike spun wildly across the pavement, sparks flying as chrome scraped asphalt.The car never slowed, tires squealing as it rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.
Nugget’s body covered mine completely, his bulk creating a cage of flesh and bone that protected me, protected my baby, from the worst of the impact.I could feel his heart hammering against my chest, his breath hot and fast against my neck.For several long seconds, we lay tangled together on the sidewalk, both too stunned to move.
“You hurt, darlin’?”Nugget finally asked, his voice rough and breathless in my ear.He shifted his weight carefully, lifting himself just enough to look down at me.
I did a mental inventory of my body, probing for pain beyond the general shock.My palms were scraped raw, stinging and flecked with tiny bits of gravel.My hip ached where it had hit the ground.My lungs still struggled to remember how breathing worked.But nothing felt broken, and more importantly, I felt no cramping or pain in my abdomen.
“I don’t think so,” I managed, my voice thin and shaky.“The baby…”
“Let’s get you up, nice and easy,” Nugget said.He moved with surprising gentleness, helping me to a sitting position before checking me for injuries.His calloused fingers probed a scrape on my elbow with unexpected tenderness.
“Where’s Hawk?”I asked suddenly, looking around for my missing guard.He’d been right with me, and now I didn’t see him anywhere.
Nugget’s expression darkened.“He took off after the bastards.Don’t worry, brothers are already on their way.They’ll find Wrangler too, wherever the hell he is.”
“You were following me?”I asked, still trying to piece together what had happened.“I thought I spotted you earlier.”
“Friar didn’t trust the security detail to be enough.Asked me to shadow you, keep my distance so it wouldn’t feel like too much crowding.”A grim smile twisted his lips.“Good thing he did.”
I swayed slightly as I stood, suddenly lightheaded.Nugget’s arm circled my waist immediately, steadying me.“Easy now.”
The world tilted and spun around me as delayed shock set in.My hands trembled violently, fine shivers that traveled up my arms and spread through my entire body.Each breath came in a shallow gasp that didn’t quite reach my lungs.Black spots danced at the edges of my vision.
“Hey, hey, stay with me,” Nugget said, his voice suddenly sharp with concern.He guided me to a nearby bench, forcing me to sit before I could collapse.“Put your head between your knees.That’s it.”
I complied, too disoriented to argue.The position helped, blood gradually returning to my head, the black spots receding.Nugget kept one hand on my back, a steady pressure that anchored me to reality.
“Deep breaths,” he instructed.“In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
I focused on his voice, on the rhythm of breathing he was setting.Slowly, the world stopped spinning.The trembling in my hands subsided to a manageable tremor.When I finally sat up, Nugget was watching me with an intensity that left me with so many questions.
“Friar’s gonna have my ass for letting you get banged up,” he said, his attempt at humor undermined by the tightness around his eyes.“Those scrapes look painful.”
I glanced down at my palms, at the tiny pebbles embedded in raw flesh, at the trickles of blood that were already beginning to dry.My jeans were torn at the knee, revealing another angry scrape beneath.But it was the realization of how much worse it could have been -- would have been without Nugget’s intervention -- that hit me hardest.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice breaking.“You saved my life.Our lives.”
