Page 4 of Claiming Becca

“Shit!” I slam on the gas and turn onto the street in the direction they are running. Stopping on the side of the road, I hop out of my truck and take off toward where they were headed. Running between trailers and jumping a fence, my eyes scan the area, looking for them.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Stopping dead in my tracks, I make a 180 and go back in the direction I just came from. The guy has Becca cornered in an alley, pushed against the side of an apartment building. His forearm pressing against her throat, and his other hand unbuttoning her jeans.

“You’re going to pay today, bitch! I’m going to fuck you, then kill you,” he snarls in her face. Her eyes widen as she tries to gulp in the air. She claws at his arm, leaving bloody marks as she does.

Taking my pistol out of my holster, I slowly and quietly approach them. Lifting my pistol, I press it against his temple, and his movements stop. “I suggest you take your hands off her before your brains paint the side of the building.”

He slowly raises his hands in the air and backs off. Becca falls to the ground, gasping for air, her hands clutching her throat. I glance at her quickly to ensure she’s okay before returning my full attention to the guy. He turns and faces me. My body tenses with recognition.

“Brock?” I question. He looks away guiltily. “What the hell are you doing?”

“She stole something of mine, and I was trying to get it back.”

“It was mine first. I was just stealing it back,” Becca rasps out. I scowl at her; she should have just let it be.

Ignoring that, for now, I glare at Brock. “So you’re going to fuck and kill her? What? As punishment?”

His eyes flash with anger. “You don’t live on the streets, so you have no idea what it’s like.” I scoff and shake my head in disgust.

He chose this life. He didn’t have to live on the streets, either. He had a promising career in baseball and threw it all away for the next high. Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I slowly lower my gun and find Jarrod’s name. He’s the only decent guy I know in the police department. He and my brother went to rookie school together. Jarrod stayed here while my brother went to the city to become a detective. He answers on the first ring.

“Hey Jarrod, I have a guy here you might want to come pick up. I found him assaulting a sixteen-year-old girl.” I explain to him.

“I’m 17,” Becca murmurs. Brock scoffs next to me, but I ignore them both.

“Alright. Where at?” he asks. I search for the street sign. I know these streets, but the chase turned me around.

“Connor!” Becca screams. I pivot on the ball of my foot just as Brock lifts his pistol toward me. Before he can get his gun up, I raise mine and pull the trigger. My pulse beats heavily in my neck as he falls to the ground.

He clutches at his chest, where deep dark red liquid begins to seep through his fingers. Closing the distance between him and me, I grab the gun off the ground, making sure the safety is on and push it into my jeans. Pacing, I look from him to Becca, who is trembling and huddled against the apartment building.

“Connor? Are you alright, man?” Jarrod yells in my ear. My ears ring as I suck in a breath, trying to calm my still-racing pulse. Putting my gun back in the holster, I move toward Becca to ensure she’s okay. She has her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth with tears streaming down her face.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” I answer Jarrod. Leaning down in front of Becca, she stares at me, unseeing.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, hiding her face from me. She puts her forehead on her knees. No longer able to ignore the need to comfort her, I run my fingers through her hair, trying to soothe her.

“It’s alright, Becca. I’m okay. You’re okay.” She takes a shuddering breath and lifts her head again to look at me.

“I shouldn’t have left your apartment. I should have stayed. This would never have happened.” She wipes at her face and looks toward Brock. “He… He was going to…” She stops talking and leans her head back against the house.

“Connor?” Jarrod is in my ear again, reminding me he’s still there.

“Yeah,” I answer him.

“I’m on my way. Did you shoot the guy? Is he still alive?” he questions. My attention returns to Brock. Standing, I walk to him, inspecting his wounds. His eyes are open. He’s bleeding out, but he’s still breathing. I’ve never killed a man before.

Sucking in a breath, I look away and take in my surroundings. No one has come out to investigate, which shouldn’t surprise me, but for some reason, it does. Becca’s been living this? For how long? Did the kids at the playground run home scared? Or is this something they’re used to?

“Connor?” Jarrod’s voice brings me out of my thoughts. Remembering his question, I answer him.

“Yeah, I shot him, but he’s still alive,” I answer. “For now, anyway. He’s bleeding out.”

Jarrod sighs. “Leave him. Get the girl and go home. I’ll get him a medic and take him to jail.”

Disbelief settles in my stomach. “What? Don’t you want a statement?” I ask, staring down at Brock. He will go free and be back on the streets before the day ends. If he survives, which doesn’t seem likely with how labored his breathing is.

“Connor—”

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