by Brenna Zinn
Her heartbeat sped up and adrenaline rushed wildly throughout her body, yet the scene around her somehow slowed down to one individual frame at a time. Each pounding step the stripper took and every thrusting swing of his arms appeared to be in extreme slow motion. Tatum could make out the rise and fall of his black tee, the puffs of dust rising around his booted feet each time they pounded the concrete and the pure hatred emanating from Mad Dog’s steely gaze.
A flash of movement from the parking lot across the street drew her attention from the advancing attacker. She turned and saw Bennett, clad in a white, long-sleeved shirt and dark dress pants, pushing his leaning body off his car. Once upright, he sprang forward, his long legs punishing the ground as he dashed across the asphalt. He opened his mouth. “No!”
That one word seemed to bounce off the walls of her mind and dully echo over and over again.
Mad Dog turned his thick neck and head toward the parking lot, then glanced back and forth between her and Bennett. His pace faltered, but the knife gripped in his fist remained poised for attack.
Unbridled terror held Tatum spellbound. Her rushing blood roared like a freight train in her ears. Once again, she attempted to scream, only to find her throat had closed. The muscles in her chest tightened. She couldn’t breathe. Her whole body felt as though it were controlled by someone else.
The boom box she toted slipped from her numb fingers. She vaguely registered the crash of the heavy portable stereo hitting the pavement. Too much was happening. Her quiet world had gone insane.
Just as suddenly as the slow motion began, time resumed its normal speed. Mad Dog raced forward, coming so close she could hear his heavy, labored breathing. At the same time Bennett jetted across the street. When the stripper swung his knife, Bennett leapt. He tackled Mad Dog, the force of the impact propelling them off the sidewalk. They slammed into the metal siding of the warehouse, Mad Dog taking the brunt of the collision. Mad Dog slipped to the ground, only to be hauled up by Bennett, who had one fist twisted into Mad Dog’s shirt and the other hand clutching the redhead’s wrist. The deadly switchblade remained clenched in the Mad Dog’s grasp.
Bennett pounded Mad Dog’s wrist several times against the side of the warehouse until the knife fell and skipped across the concrete sidewalk. Mad Dog snarled. Using his free hand, he sucker punched Bennett in his side. Bennett uttered a low groan, sending shivers of dread down Tatum’s spine.
Don’t hurt Bennett. Please, God, don’t let him hurt Bennett.
Bennett unwound his hand from Mad Dog’s T-shirt and receded one step before drawing back his arm. The muscles in his broad shoulders bunched then lengthened as he swung forward. A sharp crack sounded milliseconds after Bennett’s fist found its mark on the side of Mad Dog’s jaw. Spittle strewn with blood shot from Mad Dog’s mouth, spraying thick lines of pink across Bennett’s white shirt and the concrete below.
With a powerful thrust, Bennett pushed Mad Dog back into the metal exterior of the building and stepped away. The heavyset stripper sank to the ground in a heap.
Bennett gave Tatum a quick glance. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, finally locating her voice. Never in her life had she been so glad to see someone, especially in one piece. “I’m more worried about you.”
A strange look of confusion briefly crossed Bennett’s face. “I’m okay.” He returned his sights to Mad Dog but continued to talk to her. “You have your cell phone on you?”
“Yes.” She fumbled for her bag. Her hands shook so badly she could barely open the zipper. After rummaging blindly through the contents of her purse, she pulled out her phone. “Got it.”
“Good. Call the police.”
Her numb fingers refused to obey. She tried three times before successfully pressing 9-1-1 and then the dial button. “It’s ringing.”
Bennett kicked the self-exiled stripper on the sole of one of his well-worn boots. “You need an ambulance?”
“Fuck you.” Mad Dog angrily shook his head as though trying to regain his bearings while being upset that he lost them in the first place. “That bitch is going to pay for what she did to me,” he snarled and ran the back of a fleshy hand over his wet mouth. “She cost me my job. Now I might lose my truck.”
“You were going to assault her because of a vehicle?” Bennett asked, incredulous. “You ignorant redneck. She didn’t fire you. You walked away from the job. All you had to do was audition for one of the stripper positions.”
“It’s the same thing in my book,” the redhead shouted back. He placed his fingers on his chin and gingerly pushed it from side to side. “I think you broke my fucking jaw.”
“Good,” Bennett retorted. “You’re lucky that’s all I did.”
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” a woman asked through the earpiece of Tatum’s phone.
As Tatum answered the emergency operator’s questions, Bennett reached down to help Mad Dog up. Mad Dog scowled, but accepted Bennett’s hand. Suddenly the hefty man yanked Bennett’s arm, causing him to lose his footing and fall forward. When Bennett’s face came close to Mad Dog’s, the former stripper head-butted Bennett, sending him staggering backward until he landed hard on his ass. Apparently sensing his advantage, Mad Dog shot up and dove for his knife. Bennett wasn’t far behind. He scrambled to his feet and lunged at Mad Dog.
Mad Dog turned to face Bennett, kicking madly, the blade in his beefy hand. He lashed the switchblade in erratic patterns, making Bennett bob and weave to avoid being sliced or stabbed. But Mad Dog got in one lucky swipe. A dark red stain bloomed on the stark white of Bennett’s left shirtsleeve.
Tatum screamed.
“Tell me what’s happening,” the 9-1-1 operator’s voice, calm and reassuring, sounded on Tatum’s phone.
Bennett pulled his right hand back again and hit Mad Dog with a powerful blow. A loud crunching sound penetrated the evening air. The stripper’s flailing legs immediately stilled.
For a moment, all Tatum could do was watch in horror as blood quickly spread through the crisp fabric of Bennett’s shirt. He had come to her rescue and had been stabbed for his efforts. How badly, she didn’t know. Bright beads of blood formed and dripped from his arm, pooling near his left hand which drooped on the sidewalk.
Her heart lurched as hot tears formed in the corner of her eyes, then spilled down her cheeks. “Send an ambulance, please. Hurry. Please!” she begged through gasping sobs. “Someone’s been hurt.” Someone I truly care about.
* * * * *
A pretty, young nurse did wonders to distract Bennett from the drab, tiny space allotted to him in the emergency room and the strong smells of hospital sterility. The nurse finished wrapping his arm with a roll of gauze and fastened the wispy end with a metal clasp. Her fingers lingered on his biceps. She raked her gaze from his injury, over his bare chest and up to his eyes, then sucked on the edge of her pink bottom lip.
According to the nametag neatly sewn on her scrubs atop the swell of one amazing breast, the woman administering this immensely personal care was Gina. Petite, with long, chestnut locks pulled back in a jaunty ponytail, Nurse Gina ticked off many of the boxes on his list of desirable female attributes. Yet despite this woman meeting so many of his physical preferences, only the tall Texan with hair the color of fresh cream interested him.
Tatum.
Tatum had ridden in the ambulance with him, refusing to let him out of her sight. During the entire trip to the emergency room, she had touched his arm, his leg or his feet, making certain he knew she was still there. Even as he had fought Mad Dog in front of the warehouse, Tatum had looked fearful about his safety, something he’d seen only from his mother or Anne. Her continued display of outright concern for him simultaneously touched him deeply and tore at his soul.
Tatum was chipping away at the brick wall he’d built around his heart. After so many years of disappointing relationships with his father, his grandfather, and even his mother, he’d needed the carefully constructed p
rotection from continued heartache. At school he’d needed to protect himself from the bullies, so he learned how to box. At home he’d needed to shield himself from the indifference and loneness, so he became an expert at distancing himself emotionally. Both skills had served him well up to now.
Somehow through their easy banter, her never-say-die attitude and her beautiful exterior, Tatum had slipped past his defenses. The only other person who had managed to do so was Anne. Although Bennett had tested his stepmother by being standoffish and sometimes downright hateful, Anne had never once let him down. Time and time again his stepmother been there for him, demonstrating absolute care and unfaltering love. Anne had been and continued to be the one brick keeping him from totally sealing off his heart.
Bennett broke his daze into the bright glare of a fluorescent light panel to see Nurse Gina slide her hand down the gauze bandage onto the skin of his forearm.
“I get off at midnight,” she volunteered. “I’d be happy to check in on you at home to make sure you’re doing all right, if you like. Wouldn’t want you to have any problems with your stitches during the night.”
Before he could tell the voluptuous nurse he’d have to pass on her more than kind offer, a doctor whisked through the small opening in the light-blue curtains separating the space from the others in the emergency room. Charts in hand, the hunched old man looked more like a mad scientist than a physician. Tangles of white hair thrust from his head at odd angles. Behind thick, round glasses, his eyes appeared frighteningly close to popping out of their sockets. Bennett half expected him to raise his thin hands, tilt back his head and shout, “He’s alive!”
Nurse Gina released his arm and stepped aside, making room for the doctor in the small space. She ran the tip of her tongue over the top of her pert little mouth and winked before exiting the same way the doctor had come in.
“Okay, young man, you’re sewn up and ready to go. The laceration in your arm was deep, but the stitches worked out nicely. The ones below your skin should melt away on their own, but the stitches on top will need to be taken out by your physician.” The doctor scribbled something on a small yellow pad, ripped off the page and handed it to Bennett. “This is a prescription for pain medication. Aside from your cut arm, your bruised ribs are going to hurt like the dickens once the meds we’ve already given you wear off.”
Bennett leaned forward bed to take the paper. Bright balls of light whirled before his eyes. His head spun. He felt his upper body sway as though he’d just stepped off a dizzying carnival ride.
“Steady now.” The doctor gingerly grabbed Bennett’s shoulder and guided him back onto the mattress. “You’re going to need some rest. Lucky for you, you have several people sitting in the waiting room to take you home. I asked a nurse to escort them back here to collect you. As soon as they come and the wheelchair I asked for arrives, you can go home. I think I hear them coming now.”
So did Bennett. Lyle’s voice, as twangy and loud as ever, boomed over the sounds of the emergency room. His crazy father had no sense of decorum. Not even in a hospital.
Lyle ripped aside the curtain, revealing not only Anne, but Tatum. Still dressed in the same small leotard top that showcased her flat stomach, and a pair of cutoff sweats over skintight leggings, Tatum clearly hadn’t gone home since they’d arrived at the hospital in the ambulance. Though the deep lines of worry that had creased the fine skin between her brows were gone, concern still lingered behind her emerald gems, which were puffy and rimmed with red.
Lyle, on the other hand, looked positively ecstatic. Bright-eyed and face glowing beneath his Stetson, he smiled the smile of a man who had just won the lottery. Even his long handlebar mustache seemed to have a little extra curl.
“That’s my boy,” Lyle announced, charging up to the side of Bennett’s bed. He gave Bennett several congenial slaps on his knee.
His boy?
When was the last time his father sounded so happy when calling Bennett his son?
“You really got Mad Dog good. His jaw is broke and so is his nose,” Lyle continued with surprising enthusiasm. “I wish I’d have been there to see the fight for myself. That dumb son-bitch might have got in a lucky punch to your side and cut you up a bit, but you plumb knocked the boy out. He’s still laid out somewhere in this hospital. The cops are waiting for him to get patched up enough to tote him off to jail.”
Bennett stared at his father in disbelief. After a lifetime of trying to gain the old man’s attention and favor, he’d finally done so by clocking one of his former employees?
Unbelievable.
Anne tsked and skirted Lyle to stand near the head of the bed. “I’m just glad you’re all right.” She placed a soft, cool hand on Bennett’s forehead, then combed back his hair with featherlight fingers. “You really had us worried. When Tatum called Lyle to tell him you’d been hurt and were in the emergency room, we didn’t know what to think. I had to convince your sister to stay at College Station until we knew for sure how you were doing. She was fixin’ to climb through the phone when we told her you were here.”
“Well, you can tell Camma that I’m fine. I got little more than a scratch.” Bennett forced himself not to lean into Anne’s gentle caresses. He was a man and his father was there.
“You got fifteen stitches in your arm,” Lyle said, nodding toward Bennett’s bandaged biceps. “That’s a hell of a lot more than just a scratch. Should leave a mean-looking scar. No one will mess with you once they see that scar and know you got it in a knife fight. When you’ve got kids, you can tell them you got it from wrestling a bear.”
Anne sighed and shook her head as though she too couldn’t believe the crazy things that sometimes made their way through Lyle’s lips.
“Are you all right?” Bennett asked Tatum. To his relief, she didn’t bear the marks of being hurt. No Band-Aids or gauze dressing showed on any visible parts of her body.
“Yes,” she said, her voice soft. “Thanks to you. I don’t know what you were doing in that parking lot, but I’m so glad you were there.”
He’d actually been in and around the warehouse for most of the afternoon, waiting for her to finish with the two strippers. When he’d heard she was there, he’d about come unglued. The warehouse wasn’t exactly on the best side of town. Though her height might intimidate most people, or at least make them think twice about pulling anything funny on her, he doubted she could protect herself if she had to. He just never imagined she’d actually need physical protection. Who knew one of the former strippers would try to attack her?
A cold shiver rippled down his spine. If Mad Dog had hurt Tatum in any way, Bennett most likely wouldn’t have stopped punching the deranged man until he’d killed him.
“You can thank Lyle for that. He told me you were there. I thought you might like to get a bite to eat after your practice,” Bennett replied. Despite his better judgment, he’d decided to give in to the temptation that was Tatum one more time. The craving to kiss her lips, touch her skin and release himself deep within her had grown too strong to resist. He hated himself for wanting her so badly, not to mention his lack of restraint, but he was a man. A man with needs he could no longer deny.
“Ah, here’s the orderly.” The doctor pulled the curtains completely aside, making room for a thin young man in green scrubs pushing a wheelchair. “Once we get your undershirt back on, he’ll take you down to your car, if one of you will drive around to the emergency room doors.”
Tatum dangled the key to Bennett’s car. “I’m driving him home.”
“How did you get my keys? Where’s my car?” Bennett sat up too quickly. Once again stars danced before his eyes.
Lyle pushed him none too gently back down onto the bed. “Don’t get your drawers all balled up into a wad, boy. I drove your fancy car to the hospital. When Tatum called to say you were on your way to the emergency room, Anne and I stopped at the warehouse and checked on your vehicle. We figured the keys were still in the ignition, and they were. Didn�
��t reckon you wanted your car stolen, so Anne dropped me off and we met here.”
Anne nodded. “I believe Tatum’s truck is still there though.”
“Don’t worry about my truck,” Tatum waved a dismissive hand. “If it gets dinged or scratched, I’ll never notice. If I’m lucky, someone will steal it and I’ll be able to get a new one from the insurance money.”
“Then it’s settled. Let’s get the h-e-double hockey sticks out of this place.” Lyle adjusted his Western hat as though saying good riddance to the emergency room. “Hospitals give me the willies.”
As Lyle and Tatum made room for the orderly to come closer to the bed, Anne bent over Bennett. She placed a quick kiss on his cheek, then whispered in his ear. “I really like that girl. I don’t know if you’re fishing for a woman these days. If you are, you have a keeper on your line.”
Bennett glanced at Tatum. She chatted casually with Lyle, her megawatt smile captivating his father just as it had done him so many times. His heart ached as it squeezed in his chest. Yes, Tatum might just be a keeper for some man. A man who deserved her. Unfortunately, he wasn’t that man.
For once, Bennett won an argument with his father, although he understood and disapproved of Lyle’s motives for giving up the fight so easily.
After they all had arrived at his downtown Austin condo, Bennett had professed to feeling absolutely fine and not needing anyone to stay behind to watch over him. The fact that the furniture appeared to be spinning and the marble floor kept shifting below his feet didn’t keep him from telling the small lie. Now that he was at home, he would be fine. Nothing that a few hours sleep and the meds in his pocket couldn’t fix.
The game changer to the heated discussion didn’t happen until Tatum volunteered to stay with him and sleep in his guest room. The conspiratorial look exchanged between Lyle and Anne hadn’t gone unnoticed. The two meddlers seemed all too happy to leave him in Tatum’s care and practically ran out of his home when the blonde beauty made her offer. Too physically drained to fight any longer, he’d agreed to let her stay.
