The complete fight response that overpowers my tired muscles, jumping into action as I eat up the space between where I am and where they’re attempting to double team and take her down.
“Motherfuckers,” I mutter under my breath as I sprint to where she is.
“Get off of her!” My order is loud and the two creeps whip their heads around.
“Hey, isn’t that …” One of the pricks trails off, trying to get a better look at me.
“Hayes!” Colleen’s voice is desperate and so much smaller than I’ve ever heard it.
That alone makes my fury ratchet up several levels, because this is not a weak woman by any means. The need to murder these two with my bare hands is palpable, and the sensation ripples down my back muscles as if I’m a dog ready to attack.
I reach them and just begin swinging. Fist on bone, saliva on my hands, followed by blood.
There isn’t a rational explanation of why I can fight off these two men when I’m only one person. Probably because they’re impaired, I smell alcohol all over them, or maybe my adrenaline is just pumping so hard, but my punches are landing square and effectively. The one guy is knocked out cold before I even have to fire another back at him, which makes me believe taking down the other won’t be too difficult either.
I knock his body on one side of the jaw with a right hook, and he stumbles, but stays up, staggering backward. I see it in his eyes, he’s weighing whether he should come back at me, try to combat me. A split second later, he must decide that it’s not worth it, because the piece of shit scampers off into the night.
“Get in my car,” I order her, not sure when the bozo on the ground will wake up, or who might be still in this parking lot.
“But my—” she stammers, shock speaking for her.
“Colleen. Get. In.” My voice leaves absolutely no room for argument.
I walk robotically, my hand at the small of her back, ushering her toward my vehicle. I don’t care if her car gets stolen, if someone says something about it being here in the morning, or what not. There is absolutely no way I’m letting her drive home alone right now.
All but hauling her up into the passenger seat of my Range Rover, I make sure she’s completely in before stiffly putting my bag in the back seat and climbing behind the wheel. I seem to be moving on auto-pilot, my body stuck between the chaos of the fight and coming down to complete and utter exhaustion. Reality sets in, the buzzing in my ears growing stronger. There are too many emotions coursing through me right now, and my mind feels like it’s slipping into a spiral I won’t be able to come out of.
“Fuck!” I growl, slamming my hands against the steering wheel.
In the passenger seat, Colleen visibly jumps, and I try to take a deep, calming breath. I’ll only scare her more if I get myself worked up right now, but I’m pissed as all hell that I didn’t at least get a picture of the two men who attacked her.
I’m weary to look at her, but I know I have to. I know I have to put on a soothing voice and make sure she’s okay, make sure that they didn’t …
The thought of either of them touching her makes my blood curdle.
Slowly, I turn my head toward her, trying to assess her physical and mental state in the dark lighting in the cabin of my SUV. Her hair is half torn out of the clip or hold it was in, falling around her face haphazardly. It’s roughened, frizz puffing up in chunks. There doesn’t seem to be any visible marks on her face, but when I get down to her blouse, I see that the seam at her right shoulder is completely torn. There is a gaping hole there, the white gauzy fabric ruined. There are a few buttons missing down the front of it as well, and I have to clamp my teeth down on my tongue to stop from growling in rage again.
Thankfully, her skirt seems to be intact as my gaze falls farther down her body, because if it wasn’t, I’d probably drive out into the night to catch and maim those guys myself.
“Are you hurt?” I ask her the simple question, praying that I get the answer I want.
She meets my