by K. F. Breene
“Restraining order?” Sean said, feigning surprise. “Well, then, it looks like Jim is an unwelcomed guest. I suppose it might be time for that guest to leave.” Sean was still talking in light tones, but steel crept into his voice.
“Leave?” Jim said in malevolence. “Is that what I should do, Krista? Leave?”
“Yes, Jim. Please leave.”
“Well, then,” he stared, his voice grating across her bones. “Maybe you would walk me to the door. Old friends, you know?”
Krista nodded her assent, not wanting him loitering around her house unattended, and led the way. Sean stayed close, his body between her and Jim, making himself the first casualty if Jim decided to get violent.
They made it to the door in a tense progression. Jim hesitated at the threshold and raked down Krista’s body, sparking a long-forgotten terror. With shaking legs, she huddled closer to Sean, barely fighting the panic that threatened to pull her under.
“Krista, would ya mind grabbin’ the crap you left behind in my car?” Jim asked politely.
Krista knew very well he didn’t have anything of hers. She took it all or threw it away when she left. “That’s okay, Jim. Keep it.”
“And have you report I stole it? I don’t think so.” He was standing just inside the door frame. And wasn’t moving.
“I’d rather not, Jim. Please leave.”
His whole body flexed and his eyes flashed again. He coiled.
“Let’s humor him,” Sean said smoothly. “Let’s all go outside and see what there is to see.” Sean gave her a squeeze of encouragement.
Krista knew Sean was strong, and for all she knew he could fight, but Jim was the king of the wrong side of the tracks. He was the top of the heap, and the way he got there was fighting and mayhem. In all the time Krista had known him, Jim had never lost a fight. Not even against more than one person—his record was bringing down five.
Krista sighed, a tear leaking out. What other choice did she have? They would have to bodily push Jim out of the house to close the door, and if they did manage Jim would just wait until Krista was alone again. Jim was no dummy, and Krista didn’t have a bodyguard. Sean couldn’t be present all the time, nor would she want him to have to. She needed the cops.
She threw a glance toward the kitchen, finding Ben waiting eagerly with a terrified expression and a sign that said, “Called cops. On Way.”
On the way was subjective in San Francisco. Even with a light workload, like in the Sunset, they could take forever dodging traffic and pedestrians. Krista had to stall, and Jim had to speed things up. It all came down to the resistance in the middle.
Sean.
“Fine,” Krista said, another tear dripping down her face. It was all about to come to a head.
Jim nodded and led the way, looking back twice to make sure they were following. They got to his car, which was across the street. It was a shiny, black Mercedes only a couple years old.
“Where did you get this?” Krista asked despite herself. Jim wasn’t ever one to have much money.
“Thinking of switching up for a real man?” Jim said with an over-inflated ego.
“Whatever. What do you have that’s mine?”
On the sidewalk by his car, Jim turned back to them. He planted his feet and looked Krista square in the face.
“What do I have that’s yours?” He turned his eyes to Sean. Suddenly the air compressed around them. “Better ask: What does this fool have that’s mine?”
Sean patiently guided Krista behind his back, knowing what was about to happen, knowing that without him to interfere, Jim would make a grab for her and stuff her into his car and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop him.
“Look, bro, Krista has already acknowledged that she is happy here without you. It doesn’t matter who her choice is, so long as it’s not you. Why don’t you just head out?” Sean reasoned.
Jim took a step toward Sean, thick arms poised and bowing slightly so he could look directly into Sean’s face. “Krista doesn’t know what she wants. Never did. She needs a man to show her what she needs.”
The air seemed to crackle with electricity. The hairs on the back of Krista’s neck and arms stood on end. It took her a second to identify the change. It was Sean.
He was still calm, but now he stood balanced on both feet, ready for action. The greatest change, however, was in his eyes. Krista could just barely make them out from where she stood behind his protective frame; like the sea before a storm, all seemed calm, but a great disaster loomed on the horizon, hinted at with the torrid gleam and deadly depth. Anger was seething just below the surface; a wildness she had never seen in him before was ready to be unleashed.
Ben stood in the middle of the street, phone clutched in his hand, staring at Sean with wide eyes.
“I think it’s time for you to go, Jim,” Sean said with finality, his ease and polite manner dropped.
Jim answered with a flurry of movement. Before Krista could react, or even blink, Jim’s fist was traveling toward Sean’s face. Sean was not so slow, however. He easily moved out of the way with a slight movement, and threw a punch of his own. His landed square on Jim’s jaw.
Thus the dance begun. It appeared Sean did know how to fight. And like everything else he did, he did it exceptionally well. He moved like a panther, sleek and agile and full of purpose. If it were any normal man Sean was fighting against, Sean would’ve won easily. But it wasn’t a normal man. It was Jim. Jim was colossal—huge and mean and immovable.
Jim threw another punch, which Sean again dodged, landing another of his own on the side of Jim’s face. Jim, sensing he was outmatched boxing, threw his body at Sean. Krista jogged back and to the side quickly, narrowly missed by the two brawling men.
Sean met the assault and forced him back, throwing punch after punch into Jim’s hardened cords of muscle, pushing him away from Krista. He was paying a price. Jim was landing his own body shots, powering his fist into the sides of Sean’s body.
Where Jim’s fighting style was raw power, Sean’s was lithe and polished. Sean probably couldn’t punch as hard, but he landed his shots better. If Jim got Sean to the ground, though, the raw power might win out.
“Ben, what do we do?” Krista yelled, looking for a weapon or some way to help Sean.
Ben was dancing from foot to foot, stepped closer then further away, watching the fight with fearful eyes. “Kris, I don’t know how to help—I’m no match for either of them. I don’t even know how to fight!”
Sean landed another punch to Jim’s side--kidney perhaps--but took a hard hit to the rib cage. They were both tiring, but neither planned on giving up. It didn’t seem to be about Krista or possessions or anything focused anymore. This was now a fight purely fueled by testosterone, and the winner would have to beat the loser senseless to get what he wanted.
Stupid man-code.
Jim had Sean in a bear hug and was trying to grapple him to the ground. His muscle was gym muscle, though, engineered. Sean, on the other hand, was made outdoors, his muscle moving and straining in harmony, keeping to his feet, using his free hands to ram his fist into Jim’s head or body, wherever he could.
Both men were bloody at this point. Tired and bloody. The fight couldn’t go on much longer. The winner would be decided in the next fifteen minutes, and the loser would be unconscious.
It was then that they heard the sirens—finally! The police cars were at the end of the street, cruising along. Ben jumped into the road to flag the police down, prompting the unmistakable roar of the engine as the cops realized a fight was in progress.
Jim rocketed a punch to Sean’s head, having him staggering back and then blocking another, feinting and throwing one of his own, hitting Jim just as squarely.
It was still anybody’s fight. They were well-matched. Krista had no idea Sean could fight like that. It showed that she really did have a type, and he was dangerous. Sean might be a nice guy that treated her well now, but once upon a time he wasn�
�t so pure.
Another police car sped down the street as a young cop jumped out of the first car to arrive, mid-twenties, about six foot, and wound too tight. “Break it up!” he shouted, throwing a glance down the street for backup.
Krista didn’t blame him.
An ex-Marine-looking guy jumped out of the second car with a crew cut and chiseled jaw. He was a portly man in his late forties, probably senior in this partnership. His Taser was out before he reached his partner or the fighting men.
Sean tried to raise his hands and step away, showing respect for authority. Jim, on the other hand, used that as an advantage to hit Sean square in the jaw. Sean was hurled backwards, his tired body falling and sliding along concrete. Jim rushed to pounce.
Krista screamed and Ben surged forward, but before either of them could do anything, ex-marine cop shot two spears from his Taser, hitting Jim along the side.
Jim shouted and convulsed, tumbling to the ground in agony, screams of rage echoing down the block.
The young cop ran at Sean, Taser at the ready, “Get down!”
Sean complied instantly, lowering to the concrete slowly with his hands out wide.
Krista ran toward him, tears falling freely, feeling a little sick about the whole thing. “But he was protecting himself and me, officer! It isn’t his fault!” Krista yelled, inching forward toward a newly handcuffed Sean.
“It’s okay, Krista,” Sean panted. “Let the men do their jobs.”
Ben stepped up to Krista, shaking just as hard as she, scared beyond words.
The ex-Marine cop yelled then, and they all turned to see him grappling with Jim. The young cop jumped off of Sean and sprinted to his partner, yelling for backup in the walkie-talkie-black-shoulder-thing.
It took both of them to wrestle Jim to the ground, and another blast with the Taser to keep him there while they cuffed him, panting and blustering with fatigue. Docile Sean looked like a golden child in comparison.
The cops broke up again, each getting identification from Sean and Jim. It turned out there was a warrant out for Jim’s arrest, not that anyone was surprised, for beating a man senseless in a bar fight. Also, with a little help from Krista pointing out Jim’s car, which had Seattle plates, the cops were able to determine the car was stolen.
She knew a car that nice didn’t belong in the hands of a slacker-asshole like Jim.
Sean checked out flawless, of course, although he was still left face down and handcuffed on the sidewalk while backup arrived with flashing lights and sirens. It didn’t seem to bother him. He was resting and in pain, probably wanting a pain med and some quiet so he could get some shut eye right there on the sidewalk.
The half-block was swarmed with men in uniform holding their belts and looking severe. The heads peeping out of their houses were still doing so, and everyone walking their dogs or kids stopped to look on. The reinforcements helped load Jim up into the police car, kicking and screaming at the cops and yelling threats at Krista. One thing that struck a chord with her was Jim screaming that if he ever found Sean with Krista again, he’d kill Sean. Jim was just crazy enough to do it. Krista did not want Sean in danger because of her.
The policemen, once Jim was safely in the car, although still yelling, deliberated with each other on what happened before backup arrived, and what was left to be done. It was then the cops, men all, milled and flocked and finally decided to get an account of “what transpired” from Ben and Krista. Purely logical, after all—find out what started the ruckus.
“Men are such time wasters when they’re in a group!” Krista spat, looking at Sean lying on the dirty cement. “A couple of guys would have a job well done by the time a group of guys finish talking about what to do first, who has the bigger penis, and who plans on pulling Alpha dog. Meanwhile, Sean is laying there!”
“That’s not helping, Krista,” Ben said quietly as the ex-Marine guy finally started walking over.
“Ma’am,” he started.
She nodded impatiently while Ben rubbed her back.
“Why don’t you start from the beginning.”
With a barely suppressed sigh, Krista told him all about Jim, and what happened when she got home. Next Ben filled in the gaps, explaining his fear of Jim and then calling Sean.
Krista found out that when Ben called Sean asking for advice, Sean was at the door a heartbeat later. He didn’t know Jim, didn’t know what he was capable of, but he did know that she needed help, and he wanted to be there to provide it. The cop nodded to that, making a few notes on his little pad.
When Krista informed the cop, for the second time, that she had a restraining order against Jim, applied for and granted in Seattle, the ex-Marine-looking guy looked at her piercingly for a heartbeat too long, blinked once, then wrote that down.
He asked, “And how did you know him in Seattle?”
“He was my ex-boyfriend. Is my ex-boyfriend. I broke up with him and he tried to come after me.”
“And did he serve time for that infraction?” the cop asked, looking at her closely.
“Yes.”
The man nodded. “And did you know he was coming to visit you in San Francisco?”
Krista was positive they had covered this. “No. I haven’t heard from him since I left Seattle. I didn’t think he would follow me.”
“No communication with him since you moved here? Or any of his friends or family that might have relayed your whereabouts?”
“None. No communication at all. I asked how he found me and he said Internet and phone book.”
The cop nodded and wrote something else down. “Have you had a name change in the past?”
“No. I thought two state lines would end the problem. I didn’t realize he would come after me.” She was starting to lose her patience. What did it matter? She had a restraining order. Which he broke. In doing so, he broke the law. End of discussion. She was sure there was a patrol officer somewhere in the picture who wouldn’t be thrilled to hear Jim left town, broke the law a few times, then got picked up by the cops in San Francisco. So do your fucking job and leave Sean alone!
The man looked up at her, his eyes stern and disbelieving, “But he went after you in Seattle, correct?”
“Yes, right after I broke up with him. Well, about a month after. I had gotten the restraining order a day before. I assumed he was pissed with that--well, he was pissed--but I assumed that was all. Seattle is not all that big. Crossing town is a little different than crossing two states.” Ben put his hand on her shoulder to calm her down. She took a big breath and finished with, “I didn’t realize it would turn into this.”
“Uh huh. Well.” The police man put his notes away and looked around, ending with looking at Jim in the back seat of the cop car. Jim was looking out at Krista with hatred.
“Assuming everything we have against him sticks, he will be going back to prison.” The cop looked at Krista pointedly. “He will have a set bail, though. He would be on his second strike, not third. He’ll probably go back, but not for as long as you would hope. Restraining orders are only good if the perpetrator is caught. I have seen cases like this before. I have every reason to believe he’ll go after you again.”
Krista’s heart sank. It was obvious when he pointed it out, but she had chosen not to think about it. Now, though, she had no choice.
“I can’t really afford a bodyguard, so what can I do?” Tears came to her eyes.
The cop’s face softened. Even severe men, maybe especially severe men, hated seeing a girl cry. “First thing, make sure you’re not listed with an address anywhere online. Make sure your number is unlisted. Make sure your Facebook page can only be viewed by friends, and none of those friends share an acquaintance with that man.”
Krista nodded. She doubted that would stop Jim. It looked like the cop shared her view. He continued with, “The best thing you could do, and it isn’t ideal for you probably, is to move and change your name. It is the only way to be absolutely safe.”
; Krista sighed again and looked at Sean, who was still lying on the sidewalk with his face against the cold concrete. “I did move. He still found me.”
The cop nodded, but she could hear his unsaid comment. She needed to move again, and this time follow through with everything else he’d said, including changing her name. Still looking at Sean, lying on the cold cement peacefully, she nodded with tears starting to obscure her view. It would mean she’d be moving away from the guy she loved. She had only just reconciled with him, and now she would have to move away.
She knew her luck was too good to be true.
“That bitch!” she said to herself.
“Who, ma’am?” the cop asked, half reaching for his notepad again.
“Oh, nothing.”
The cop just looked at her, but it was enough for her to continue with, “Lady Luck. She’s a bitch.”
The severe-looking ex-Marine smirked and snorted, but didn’t comment. He probably agreed. Most people did.
The police finally got around to deciding they had enough paperwork to do with Jim, and would let Sean go with a warning. Being that he was protecting his girlfriend, the warning wasn’t all that harsh.
“Sean, we need to look at you,” Ben said when they walked into the house. “Maybe take you to the hospital.”
“He didn’t break anything. Just bruises. I’ll be fine,” Sean said, grabbing for Krista.
“We need to look at her, too,” Ben replied, eyeing her throat.
She hugged Sean, who winced. With Krista now subject to the same scrutiny, Sean relented.
“I have a salve that might help.” Ben took off down the hall. He was back in a flash with a complete first aid kit that had been taking up room in the cabinet that held Krista’s makeup. He opened it up and dug around, coming out with a small brown bottle.
“Sean, take off your shirt, please,” Ben said, looking closely at Krista. He shook the bottle and took the lid off. He veered in toward Krista’s throat. “This will reduce the appearance of the bruising. It doesn’t smell great, but it works pretty well. It works better on darker skin, but it’ll still help. I use it from time to time when I bang my arm or leg or something.”
