Page 37 of Bad For A Weekend

“Shit. Okay.” He pulls his cell from his pocket and dials, pressing the phone to his ear.

I tuck my face into his neck and cry, not caring if I soak his shirt with my tears. Relief mixed with an adrenaline crash flood my system and I couldn’t stop if I tried. I recognize this feeling. I’ve been here before, and I have no idea how to not be here again.

“I’m so sorry, Bay. So fucking sorry. I swore you’d be safe with me, and look what happened.” His voice is as pained as mine and hearing it sobers me.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Like fuck it wasn’t.” He tightens his hold around me, and even though it hurts—both from the bruises that I’m certain line my body and his sheer strength—I pray he doesn’t let go.

“It all happened so fast.”

“I should’ve been right by you.” He glances around. “Let’s get you out of here. I need to call your dad.”

“Okay.” I don’t bother arguing, even though I know it will only put Dad more on edge.

In front of the building, cops, fire trucks, and EMTs are already blocking the road. I must look a mess because paramedics rush over the second they spot me in Owen’s arms. I don’t know if he’s still carrying me because I lost my shoes or if he can’t bear to not be touching me. Either way, I don’t complain. The only thing holding me together is his protection and care.

“Bring her over here.” An EMT guides us to an ambulance with a gurney sitting just outside. “What hurts?”

“My head, mostly. I was hit with something, and I think I’m bleeding.”

“Fuck,” Owen curses, gently setting me down.

The paramedic pulls on gloves and carefully digs through my hair. “We’ll need to take you to the hospital. This needs stitches.”

“Are you okay for a minute? I need to see if we can find this guy,” Owen says.

It makes sense because no one wants him caught more than I do, but I don’t want to be here alone. He sees my panic and curses again, running a hand through his hair and looking around.

“Ziggy!” he calls out, and my best friend comes running. I’m relieved to see him and Sara, who follows close behind.

“What happened in there?” Ziggy asks, then spots me being looked over by the paramedic. “What the hell?”

“Someone grabbed me at gunpoint. He hit me on the head and pulled me down a hall by my hair. I don’t know how Owen found me, but he did.”

“Shit.” Ziggy takes my hand.

“Can you stay here with her? I knocked the guy out, but he’s probably awake by now. I want to see if I can find him,” Owen says.

“Yeah, of course. We’ll stay right here.” Sara takes my other hand.

“Do not take her anywhere until I return,” Owen instructs the paramedic, who is half Owen’s size.

“Okay. I won’t.”

Owen stops a police officer, and though I can’t hear what he says through the utter chaos around me, the police officer glances over at me, then nods. After making sure the cop comes to stand guard over me, he disappears into the massive crowd.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” the paramedic asks.

“I think just bruises. He punched me in the stomach too.” I show him my arms and legs marred in what will surely be some horrific bruising.

“Does this hurt?” He presses against my ribs, and I wince.

“We’ll take some X-rays as soon as your...”

“Bodyguard,” I supply.

“Oh. Okay. Should you call a parent or guardian?”

---