Page 6 of Protector

The heavy tread of boots stopped just outside the door, and I panted through the agonizing pain that seemed to radiate from my head down into my toes, fighting to stay quiet.

“Celia?” A gruff voice called out, and I curled in on myself; squeezing the glass until the sides began to slice into my palm.

I needed the pain to stay awake.

The door handle shifted; first to the left, and then to the right, but the lock held. I breathed a sigh of relief just as there was a sound right outside the bathroom window.

“Oh, fuck.”

I gulped down a shaky breath before reluctantly bringing my head up. The first rays of sunshine had broken free from the horizon, obscuring the man’s face.

I closed my eyes against the blinding brightness and croaked, “No. Please.”

“I got you, sweetheart.”

You’re doin’ great, sweetheart. Absolutely fuckin’ perfect.

The carousel in my head spun faster as he began to climb through the window, making it appear as if there was more than one of him coming for me. I fought against the dizziness and dragged myself under the small vanity area with a soft whimper.

The man let out a rough curse as he squeezed through, before dropping into the tub with a grunt. I shrank back, ignoring the sharp stab of pain in my chest as I made myself as small as possible.

I tightened my grip on the piece of mirror, watching warily as the blurry figure moved away from me and toward the bathroom door.

A second man rushed in, only to stumble back into the wall with a startled cry. “Jesus Christ! Mary!”

“Celia,” the first man moved closer. “Do you know where you are?”

I was in hell.

I blinked and narrowed my good eye, straining to see my attackers. It wasn’t until the man knelt beside me, that I gasped in recognition. “Comedian?”

He gave a curt nod. “It’s me. Let’s get you checked over, yeah?”

His fingers trailed over my cheek, the contact sending a shiver through my body. I turned away and pulled the bloody towel up from between my thighs until it was under my chin; trying to maintain some sense of modesty.

“Angel, I’m gonna need your help.”

I glanced over his shoulder to see that Angel was slumped against the wall, fist pressed against his mouth, shaking.

She lost the baby…

Angel came, but it was too late.

“Get him out of here,” I whispered. “Please don’t let him see me like this.”

“I’m fine, doll.” Angel took a deep breath and stood tall. “Comedian, I need the first aid kit from my saddlebag and more towels. What else? Bleach, and um, fuck—just bring all the cleaning supplies.”

His jaw had settled into a hard line, and he ran a hand through his hair before quietly repeating to himself, “I’m fine.”

I reached up and gripped the edge of Comedian’s vest with a moan as my body contracted painfully. Sweat, or blood, ran from my hairline and I bit down on my lower lip to keep from screaming.

Comedian looked down, his mouth falling open in shock. “Fuck.” The skin bunched around his eyes as he backed away from me, the muscles jumping in his neck.

I saw the question in them but couldn’t answer as the bathroom disappeared into darkness again.

Movement brought me back to reality with a cry. Angel managed to stay on his feet as he pulled me out from under the vanity, but his skin still had a greenish hue to it. Comedian was nowhere to be found, and I briefly wondered if the sight of my blood had managed to shake the tough biker.

“How did you know to come?” I asked, my voice sounding like the rusted gate at the cemetery. It was fitting, really, as I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that I was dying.

---