Page 40 of Savage Seduction

Maybe this jerk has been the one stalking me?“You’re a fan of his? The man’s dead,” I say, although everything in my soul is screaming, I was wrong about that. It hadn’t been my imagination when I saw The Butcher sitting at the bar tonight—right?Dread creeps into my chest, the anxiety making it heavy and difficult to breathe. This attack tonight was orchestrated. The Butcher sat at the bar and sent in his follower to kill me.

I know this to be true, even if I can’t prove it.

“You’re the one who got away,” the man says in a little boy’s voice and giggles. “We won’t let you ruin everything. He won’t let you leave him again.”

Enough of this shit. “I’m going to let you get up now, but if you make a move on me, I’ll drop you. Do you understand me?”

He nods, his Cheshire Cat grin fading into a dead stare.

I take the man’s hands, one-by-one, and place them behind his head before fully unweighting his shoulders—just like I was trained to do at the police academy. Bending down and grabbing ahold of his wrist, I help the man sit and then stand. He’s tall, wide shoulders, and thick midsection. He couldn’t have been older than forty, but he sure messed up the rest of his life by attacking me. One quick call to the police station and this guy would be behind bars awaiting trial.

Stepping over the fallen stall door, I push the man through it first and follow closely, not entirely sure what I’m going to do next. How am I going to secure him while I call the police? My tie, I think. I let go of him with my left hand and begin undoing my tie. Before I’ve even tugged out the knot, the man swivels around and suckerpunches me hard across the face. Mygrip loosens enough for him to pull free and run from the bathroom.

I blink away stars and rub my left cheek until the buzzing stops and the deep throb in my jaw starts. I guess I’m letting him go. I stretch my neck from side to side until I feel a satisfying pop. Ah, that’s better.

The bathroom mirror is the ultimate truth-teller. No matter what I looked like going in, I’m about to exit this bathroom a total mess. Turning on the cold water, I splash my face and wipe away the blood from the cut on my cheek and nose. I shrug. “I’ve honestly looked worse.”

There’s no way I can go back to the table without making a scene. Shooting Ben a text to meet me at my car, as I walk through the bathroom door and straight out of the restaurant. A few minutes pass before Ben exits in a rush, he halts for a moment to search the parking lot as his eyes land on me and he heads towards my car. The worry on his face is sweet and without anger—a definite relief.

“What’s wrong, Max?” he asks through the open window. “Are you feeling sick?”

I shake my head and get out of the car so Ben can see my face. Within seconds, Ben glances around the parking lot. “What happened? Did you pass out in the bathroom?” He reaches up and touches my cheek. “Someone hit you, didn’t they? I’m going to call the police.” He pulls his phone from his pocket.

“No!” I say far too quickly. “Please don’t call them. I know too many people there—and this is a sensitive situation.”

Ben looks like he wants to protest but then nods. “Okay.” He sighs. “I’ll leave this up to you.”

“There’s so much we need to talk about, but I don’t have the energy right now.”

Ben clears his throat, and I can tell he wants more… he wants to know why I ran to the bar with a knife in my hand… wants to know why I was attacked in the restroom and why I don’t want to involve the police. Without a word, Ben nods and backs away a half step.

“Ben, you deserve answers, and I plan to give them to you… but” I say and look away. “Just not tonight.”

“I need to ask one thing?” he asks.

“Absolutely.”

He reaches for my cheek again and gently caresses the mark I know is there. Ben’s face wrinkles with worry. “Are you safe to be alone?”

The softness of his words and true concern for my wellbeing isn’t something I usually feel from others.Come home with me.No, I’ll be fine.My contradictory internal dialogue is battling for supremacy.

“Thank you, Ben,” I say. “Your concern means a lot to me. I’m making you a promise.”

“Which is?”

“I promise I’ll be fine tonight, and I promise I’ll tell you everything… when I’m emotionally ready.”

He half-smiles his acceptance. “I look forward to it.”

“I’m sorry about tonight.”

“Don’t be… things happen sometimes that are out of our control,” Ben says. “Next time.”

I’m glad there’ll be a next time, I think. “Definitely,” I say, reaching for him.

Ben steps into my embrace. I squeeze him tight and push my head into the nape of his neck and shoulder. Ben slowly brings his arms up and around me and holds me in silence for a few moments before he pulls away.

Ben once again caresses my cheek, softly palpating the swollen area. “Not to sound too much like a doctor but clean the wound well and apply ice when you get home.”

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