Page 40 of Stalked

A soft scream came out of her mouth as she saw the impact. It had to have hurt—had maybe even broken his arm—but at least Steve was still on his feet. A blow that severe to his head would’ve killed him.

In the corner of her mind the agony of what this meant—the Watcher had found her again—tried to take control, but she wouldn’t let it. She couldn’t have a breakdown right now. She had to help Steve.

“Call the police!” she yelled at the cashier. “My friend is being attacked.”

She didn’t wait to see if the cashier did it; she just ran through the doors.

The guy pulled the club back for another swing, but Steve was more prepared this time. The attacker swung from the side rather than in a downward motion and Steve ducked. He brought his uninjured arm up like he planned to use it to punch the guy, but the man was too far away for Steve to be able to reach him. The stick gave him all the advantage.

He brought it down at Steve again, with not as much force, but it still knocked Steve to the ground as it hit his shoulder. He got back up, but the attacker was already bringing his arm around again.

“Hey, leave him alone!” Rosalyn didn’t think through the wisdom of being unarmed, smaller and pregnant when facing the attacker, just knew she had to get him away from Steve. The best way to do that would be to bring as much attention to the situation as possible.

The motorcycle man looked at her, but she couldn’t see his face through the darkened visor.

“Yeah, you, get away from him. Somebody help us!”

Rosalyn might not be able to do much but she could scream her head off. She also reached for bottles of oil that were stacked by the front door as she ran past them, throwing them as she went. None of them got far enough to hit the attacker, but at least she was making enough of a spectacle of herself to draw even more attention.

Other people were coming out of the store and a car on the road had pulled in to see what was going on. The motorcycle man realized the situation and threw his stick down and sped off. Nobody could do anything to stop him.

Rosalyn ran over to Steve.

“Are you okay?”

He was still cradling the arm he’d used to block the first—and hardest—hit. “Yeah. I’m okay. I don’t have much feeling in my arm, but better than if he had hit me in the head.”

Rosalyn clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering at the thought. “It would’ve killed you.”

“Probably not. But it definitely would’ve knocked me unconscious long enough for him to finish the job.”

They heard sirens heading toward them.

“I told the clerk to call the cops. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Steve tilted his head sideways and looked at her. “You had the clerk call the police?”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure my oilcan throwing was going to stop the motorcycle guy, so I thought we better get reinforcements here as soon as possible. Is your arm okay? Let me look at it.”

She took a step toward him but stopped when he backed up. She tried not to let his actions hurt her feelings. It probably wasn’t personal. He was in pain. Trying to figure out what had happened. Cop mode.

It wasn’t long before two police cars and an ambulance were pulling up.

“Do you mind waiting by the car?” Steve asked. “It’ll be less complicated if I talk to the locals alone at first.”

“Yeah, okay.” She shrugged. “I’ll be over at the car.”

A paramedic walked up to them before she went, so Rosalyn waited. She wanted to make sure Steve was okay.

“Ma’am, were you hurt in any way?” the paramedic asked her.

“No. I was in the store, nowhere near the guy with his club.”

“Guy on a motorcycle came up, had an expandable baton.” Steve began rolling up his sleeve so he could show his injuries to the paramedic.

Rosalyn gasped when she saw his forearm. It was swollen and already turning purple.

The medic took Steve’s arm in his hand. “Can you move all your fingers without pain?”

---