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LOL, no, it’s not that kind of job.

Shows you what I know.

I’d be happy to teach you. *wink*

Someone knocked on my door and called out, “Room service.”

Gotta run, dinner’s here.

Enjoy. Stay safe.

Will do. See you Sun.

I was pretty sure I had a goofy grin on my face as I answered my door.Thanks AJ!

I called my dad the next morning, after seeing my charge safely on her plane, to let him know the assignment was complete. I couldn’t wait to get home. A home-cooked meal sounded heavenly after eating take out and pub grub all week.

I stopped to fill the tank and pick up a coffee. While I was pumping gas, I noticed a dirty, strung out guy approaching, his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans. Recognizing a potential threat, I adjusted my position so I was between him and the only other customer at the pumps, a woman with a child in the back seat. I stepped behind my black sedan to address him. I would have preferred to stay behind the bullet proof company car but then I wouldn’t be between him and the woman.

“Hey man, you okay?” I held my arms out in front of me in a non-threatening manner. I heard a door close. A quick glance back told me the woman was safely in her car.

“Got any smokes?” The guy scratched his neck. He had dilated pupils, and his lip kept twitching.

Fuck, he’s tweaking.

“I don’t, sorry.” I stepped back as he continued approaching. It was too late to get away. He’d be on me before I could remove the gas hose and get in the car. Besides, I was confident I could take him. I wanted to avoid using my gun if I could. It all depended on his next actions.

He pulled a hand out of his pocket and pointed a kitchen knife at me. “Then give me your wallet!” The morning sun glinted off the chipped blade.

I started to reach for my gun, but a pink compact car pulled into the pump behind him. A young brunette got out and put her credit card in the pump. She was singing along with a song and was completely oblivious to what was happening a few feet away.

I couldn’t risk hitting an innocent bystander, so my gun stayed in the holster. I’d have to do this the hard way, hand vs knife. The hard way always sucked. I adjusted my stance as I answered in a calm, even tone. “Sure man. Just let me grab it for you.” I wanted to move him as far from the girl pumping gas as I could.

I held one hand up and reached around slowly with the other as I spoke, intentionally drawing attention to my gun as I swept my jacket back. I hoped seeing it would discourage him from attacking, and he’d run away.

It had the exact opposite effect.

“Fucking pig!” He lunged at me, swinging the knife up and down wildly.

Instinctively, I brought my left arm up to block it. My only thought was stopping the attack. The dull, jagged blade sliced across my forearm, ripping it open. I ignored the pain and dripping blood, and stepped in close. His nose crushed under my fist. The sound of crunching bones told me I probably broke it. He dropped the knife and reeled back in shock and pain, bringing both hands up to his blood-covered face. A mix of blood and spit flew from his mouth as he hurled expletives at me. I stepped to the side, grabbed a wrist, and forced his arm behind his back. I kicked him behind his knee and shoved him to the ground. He continued screaming. I’m sure he wanted one of the gawkers to take pity on him and help. They didn’t.

I was about to tell one of them to call 9-1-1 but heard sirens approaching. At least someone had the good sense to call the police instead of streaming the attack on Facebook.

The police arrived and my bad guy, who’d been sobbing into his blood-soaked hands as I held him in place, started screaming again. He wriggled and squirmed to get away from the officer who was trying to handcuff him.

An officer handed me a gauze bandage. I thanked him and identified myself as I wrapped it tightly around the long, deep, bloody cut. That was going to leave one ugly scar. The only thing worse than a knife cut was a dirty, chipped blade knife cut. I looked around for the brunette and saw her talking to a police officer. I was relieved she was okay. She’d have a hell of a story to tell her friends later.

“I’ll give my statement after I get my arm patched up.” I told Sgt. Newman, the senior officer on site.

“Not a problem, Mr. Sheppard. Mind if I call your supervisor to verify your credentials before you go?”

“No, sir.” I handed him my business card and told him to call the main number. “If no one answers, I’m happy to give you John Sheppard’s cell number.”

He read the card. “Family business?”

I nodded. “I work with my dad and brother.”

He stepped away to make the call. He released me a few minutes later. “I expect to see you at the station tomorrow morning to give your statement, oh nine hundred.”

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