Driving back to the hotel, he reclines the seat all the way back, folds his arms over his chest, tucking his hands in so they don't slip out, and assures me, “I’m just resting my eyes.”
“Umm-hmm.”
At the traffic light, I marvel at how serenely beautiful his features are when his larger than life personality isn’t playing across them. His arched brows frame heavily lashed eyes, and his nose has a slight curve, which can only mean it's been broken before. Then there are those perfect, sculpted lips that mine love to kiss. I marvel at how quickly I've fallen head over heels in love now that I've stopped fighting the attraction.
A car honks a short burst bringing me back to reality. Easing into traffic, Jocko asks, “You good, Juicy?”
“Yes, Jocko. I’m good.”
He chuckles as he drifts off to sleep again, “Yes. You are. You are very good.”
When I turn the blinker on at The Cottages, he doesn’t move. He's sound asleep. Making the turn at his building, the headlights shine on two men walking across the parking lot, and they stare at me as I drive by. The hair on the back of my neck rises, but I ignore it. I’m with Jocko, and I don’t need to be afraid.
I turn into the empty parking spot in front of the suite. Taking the keycard from the center console, as quiet and as quickly as I can, I open the car door and step out, then push it shut, but I don’t latch it. I push it just tight enough to turn the interior lights off.
Leaving the car running so Jocko doesn’t wake up, I walk to the door of his suite to get Lucifer myself. The two dudes are now walking toward me down the sidewalk in front of the rooms, and they whistle, then say something vulgar. The only word I can make out is “pussy,” but their tone and intent are defiant and frightening.
Ignoring them but trying to get in the room as quickly as possible before they arrive, I focus on sliding the keycard into the slot. I hit the hole, and it slips in. Right when the green lights and the latch unlocks, they swarm me—one on each side. One pushes the handle down, and the other shoves me against it. The scream that escapes is smothered by the sound of my body slamming against the door.
There's a split second of sheer terror when I realize how bad this situation is. Then I hear the car door open, and a deep, menacing voice behind us says, “Let her go, or I will fuck you up!”
A knife blade flashes as my head is jerked back by my hair and the cold steel presses against my throat. My heartbeat pounding in my ears drowns out all ambient noises, but I hear, “Stay back, or I'll cut her,” as the door swings open.
The ominous voice commands. “Stay.”
“That’s right. Stay back, you worthless piece of shit.” The dude with the knife boasts as he pushes me inside.
I’m spun around to face the door as the other dude tries to slam it.
A massive man fills the frame, grabs him, and snatches him back out.
He squeals like a terrified coward.
The door bangs shut.
The room goes dark.
The ominous voice commands. “Guard Alert.”
There is no sound.
No barking.
No snarling.
Nothing.
Until the sound of bone-crushing and blood-curdling screams deafen me.
“OU!”
I fall to the ground free.
“GET HIM OFF! GET HIM OFF!” Over and over and over.
The door swings back open and bangs hard against the wall.
The massive man fills the doorway again.
“JORJA?” Jocko searches for me.
I try to answer, but my throat's too dry.
“JORJA!” Jocko shouts over the screams as he charges into the dark room. It’s a command, demanding I obey.
I manage to sputter. “I’m here.”
He finds me, drops to his knees, and grabs me by the shoulders. His grip's bruising. “Are you alright?”
For just a moment longer, I’m not. Then our eyes connect. The fierceness I see scares me.
I throw my arms around him and cling to his strength. “I’m fine… now!”
His arms encircle me, pulling me tight against him, and he holds me. “I gotcha. I gotcha. It’s alright.”
I start to shake. “I have never been so scared in all my life.”
He stares down at me and says, “Me either.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Jocko
The screaming stops, and she freezes. She looks up at me, terrified again, searching my eyes. “Is he dead?”
I smile. “No. He's fainted from the pain.” I glance over at Lucifer, and her eyes follow.
“Are you sure? He looks dead.”
“If he was dead, Luce would let go.”
“Oh. That's good to know.”
I pull her into my arms again and hold her. “Jorja, I’m going to grab a blanket to wrap you up in. Sit right here. Don’t move.”
“I’m not cold.”
“You're in shock. Trust me.” When I stand, she draws her legs up and cuddles herself. “Close your eyes. Don’t look. I'll be right back.”
She nods.
I see the knife lying on the floor and secure it. I double-check Lucifer’s bite. His long canine teeth are sunk to the gums in the arm of the motherfucker who was going to rape my girl. I pat him on the back. “Good job, buddy.”
He looks at me for a command to release, but I don’t give it yet. Hurrying into the bedroom, I snatch a blanket off the bed and rush back to Jorja.
“Okay, Babe. Look at me.”
She opens her eyes, and I offer my hand. She takes it, and I can still feel her trembling as I pull her to her feet. Wrapping the blanket around her, I shield her with my body and walk her past the blood and chaos to the car. I open the back door and tell her. “Get in and wait.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t look.”
She nods as she climbs in the backseat. I close the door and dial 911 to report what happened. Then I toss the knife on the hood and set about securing the two thugs.
The perp I knocked unconscious lays face down in a pool of his own blood. Grabbing him by his shirt and pants, I lift him up. Two teeth are left behind as I tote his unconscious body into the room. I set him down beside Lucifer.
“Luce, let go.”
He blinks, shakes his head viciously one more time for good measure, spraying blood from the mangled mass, then he opens his mouth and releases the arm. It flops to the ground.
He’s bloody, so I quickly check his body for injuries, but it isn’t his. I praise his courage, bravery, and loyalty. “Good boy. Good job, Lucifer. You nailed the motherfucker. Excellent work, buddy.” Then I tell him to, “Sit. Guard.”
He sits—ears alert. Eyes focused. Tongue hanging out. Hassling from the effort. But fierce.
I roll the perp over and stare at him. I’m trained to maintain calm on the battlefield, but this is entirely different. I’m tempted to stomp his fucking cock and bust his goddamn balls, but I hold my temper in check. The rules of engagement in the civilian world are different. Instead, I lift him by his shirt, examine his wound, making sure Lucifer didn’t sever an artery. The last thing we need is for him to bleed out, then I rearrange his nose for him, plastering my fist in his face, just for good measure. The sound and the feel of his facial structure caving is satisfying.