“You’re going to kill him,” she said breathlessly.
And as I stood there, processing the nickname and the memories that came with it, only one thought crossed my mind.
I should kill him.
So, I raised my club one last time and looked down at my balled-up opponent.
* * *
“No! Stop!”I exclaimed.
Even though my body was scared and tired and sore, I rushed to catch the golf club before it had a chance to connect with Tommy’s head. I gazed into JoJo’s angry eyes, trying to figure out where the hell this had all come from. For the second time since he had hired me, I was being saved by a man that claimed to not care about anything. For the second time this fucking month, he had come to my rescue and showed a side of himself that I would have never thought existed.
Which made it harder to see him as a bad guy.
“JoJo, look at me,” I said softly.
His wild eyes met my own, but he didn’t say anything.
“I’m okay. I’m safe. Just give me the golf club.”
His eye twitched. “He was about to--.”
I nodded. “I know, I know. But he didn’t. He didn’t because you were here. Thank you. Thank you for saving me, JoJo.”
He growled. “Stop calling me that.”
I slowly lowered the golf club while he was distracted. “My apologies, Mr. Ryker.”
And when he looked down at Tommy, who kept writhing in pain while throwing up onto the concrete, JoJo drew in a sobering breath.
“Call 9-1-1. He needs an ambulance,” JoJo commanded.
I stuffed my hand into my purse. “Of course. I’ll get it done.”
I leaned against the wall and watched JoJo pace with the golf club over his shoulder. I called for an ambulance and it didn’t take long for them to show up, but the police had a hell of a lot of questions for the two of us. JoJo was kind enough to escort them back inside the building so they could review the security camera footage from the garage. And as I watched them load Tommy into the back of the ambulance, I felt the adrenaline finally wearing off.
Which caused my legs to buckle beneath me.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I gotcha,” a paramedic said.
I started sobbing out loud, not caring about whoever saw. The kind man with big arms walked me over to one of the police cars and started looking me over, starting with the bruises on my wrist. Tommy had gripped me so tightly that he left marks, and with the way he shoved my skin against the brick I had little pock marks of blood rising to the surface.
I just want to be done with this life.
“Is there anything else you’d like me to look over before I head out?” the kind man asked.
And that’s when I remembered. “Could you take a look at my tongue? I’ve got a few stitches underneath it from an accident I had at work.”
He nodded. “Of course. Stick it out for me.”
I showed him where the stitches were, and he snapped on some gloves. He lifted my tongue and looked all around my mouth before clicking his little flashlight off. The smile on his face made me feel comforted. His boyish features gave him an innocent look that drew me to him. And after he was done checking out my mouth, he stood.
“Everything looks like it’s healing well. But are you sure you want to stick to that story?” he asked.
I furrowed my brow. “Come again?”
He thumbed over his shoulder. “Seems as if you have some troubles at work. Are you sure this is something you did to yourself?”
