Page 79 of Taming Her

The woman screamed again.

Griff slipped to the right, raised his arm, and whacked it down hard on the hand holding the knife.

A satisfying clatter rang out as the metal hit the ground.

Griff threw himself at Tall Guy, using his weight to knock him flat on the cobbles and keep him there.

He was breathing hard as he snatched his cuffs from his belt then dragged the man’s wrists and harnessed them in the small of his back.

“Get off me, you pig. I’ll fucking have you for this.”

“You are under arrest for carrying a dangerous weapon, resisting arrest, and assaulting a police officer,” Griff said, his throat tight. “You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

“You bastard, I haven’t done anything wrong.” Tall Guy was snorting, his eyes closed tight.

“Shut the hell up,” Griff said, using his knees to keep him pinned to the ground.

“Ambulance and backup is on the way,” James said, applying a wad of gauze to the wounded man’s gushing cheek.

“What was going on?” Griff asked the woman.

“He… he attacked us.” She pointed at Tall Guy. “We were walking home, he pulled me in this alley and demanded money, then when my Terry, my boyfriend, dragged me off him, he got really nasty.” Her hands shaking, she pointed at Terry. “Will he be okay?”

“Yeah,” Terry said, blood dripping from his chin. His blue shirt was spattered with scarlet. “I was ugly anyway, won’t make much difference.”

She sobbed and rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and making James’s job of stemming the flow of blood all the harder.

A siren was drawing near. Griff would be glad to have backup; the asshole beneath him was a wriggler, and strong with it. He kept his eye on the end of the alleyway, knowing soon the piece of shit would be hauled into a van and locked up. There was no way he’d escape jail time, and it was the best place for him.

* * *

Griff’s shift finished a little later than he’d planned, but there was nothing he could do about it. Paperwork had to be done.

He drove back to the cottage, the golden orb of the sun rising over the wheat fields. He braked when a deer ran in front of him, then, frustratingly, became stuck behind a slow-moving tractor in the lanes. Any other day he wouldn’t have minded delays, but this morning his nerves were on edge and it had nothing to do with some dickhead trying to stab him in a dark alley.

All in a night’s work.

Eventually he pulled onto his driveway, the sound of the crunching gravel beneath the tires a signal to his body he was home. He yawned, even though his mind wasn’t tired.

He had to know.

Had to find out.

Was she still in the cottage?

He slammed the car door and a pheasant scrambled from beneath a holly bush.

Letting himself into the house, he dropped his keys on the hallway table. He stooped to remove his boots then stood, eyes closed, and took a long deep breath. He tipped his head back and braced for whatever emotions, be they good or bad, would besiege him in the next minute.

A sweet, sugary scent whispered up his nostrils. He opened his eyes and stared at the door to the kitchen.

Music was playing. Singing laced within it.

Ava.

He pushed the door open, his heart lifting.

There she was singing to a happy tune and wearing a floral cooking apron over shorts and a t-shirt, fluffy pink slippers and her hair piled high.

---