Page 27 of My Girl to Protect
Then I hear him. “You think you can just leave me?” Rick’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and angry.
I slow down.
Cammi’s voice follows. “I already did.”
My chest tightens. She’s scared. But she’s holding her ground. My protective instinct surges, but I have to do this right. I can’t hurt her. But Rick better pray she doesn’t get hurt. Because all bets are off the minute that happens.
“You don’t get to decide that,” he snaps.
I edge closer. Just enough to see. And there they are. Cammi stands with her back against the wall, her hands slightly raised, her body tense. Rick stands in front of her. A gun in his hand. He’s too close.
Fuck.
“You’re coming home,” he says.
“No,” she replies. Her voice shakes. But it doesn’t break.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he warns, lifting the gun slightly.
My vision narrows. I take in everything. The angle of his arm. The distance between them. The way his weight is distributed. He’s not trained. Doesn’t know how to handle a gun. Good. That gives me an opening. I slow my breathing.
One move. That’s all I get. I shift my stance slightly. And then, I strike.
I move fast. No hesitation. No warning.
My hand clamps down on his wrist before he even realizes I’m there, twisting hard and sharp, forcing the gun upward and away from Cammi.
“What the—” He doesn’t finish.
I drive into him, using his own weight against him, shoving him off balance and away from her. The gun goes off. The sound explodes through the alley. Cammi screams. It takes all my willpower, but I don’t look at her.
I can’t. Not yet. The need to protect her is greater. Rick recovers quicker than I expect, his other hand swinging wildly toward me. His movements are sloppy and uncontrolled. I block it easily, redirecting the force and slamming a fist into his cheek, keeping him off balance.
“Stay down,” I growl as I try to dislodge the gun from his hand.
His hold tightens. But I dig my thumb and forefinger hard into his wrist. He shoves at me, but I’m immovable. I tightenmy grip on his wrist, twisting harder until I feel the resistance weaken. The gun slips. I wrench it free.
But Rick doesn’t stop. He charges at me again, tackling me hard. We hit the ground. The impact rattles through my body, but I’ve taken worse. The gun slips from my grip. In that split second, he secures the gun again.
I roll, shifting my weight until he’s trapped beneath me and the gun is between us. I grapple with him. My hand closes over his wrist again, and I yank.
He thrashes beneath me, panicking now. “You think you can take her from me?” he spits.
“She’s not yours,” I snap.
Then, he struggles to point the gun toward me. My grip tightens on his wrist, and I try to turn the weapon away. And then, it fires again. The sound is deafening.
Everything freezes. I wait for an episode to drag me under, already breathing to stay in the present. Bringing an image of Cammi to mind.
A loud gurgle sounds beneath me. I look down. And the sight of Rick, with blood bubbling from his mouth, brings the focus back. Rick chokes. The fight drains out of him instantly. His body goes slack beneath me.
I quickly slide off him, placing the gun beside his body. My breathing is steady even though everything inside me is anything but. I should feel remorse, but I don’t. I’m not sorry he’s dead. He terrorized Cammi, and that’s unforgivable. Silence crashes down around me.
“Cammi,” I say, turning immediately.
She’s still pressed against the wall. Frozen. Her entire body shaking. I move to her side quickly.
“Hey—hey, look at me.”
