Swiping at her eyes, Petra disappeared into the bedroom at Cara’s shrill cries.
I didn’t want to call anyone I knew, but I couldn’t bodily remove Oscar from here. And he had to go. Nor could I keep us safe if he broke down the door. Though he was only a little taller than me, he was scary strong when drunk.
With no choice, I got my cell out of my pocket and gasped, my action causing a flood of pain to spread just beneath my left boob. Gently, I rubbed my sore ribs where Oscar had landed a blow as I scrolled for Max’s number. He was the only one who could get rid of this dangerous pest, and hopefully, calm the landlord—ah, man! Max and Ila were having dinner with his father. At the red, sticky wetness on my fingertips, I blinked, then hurriedly glanced down and found the wet slash in my top—shit! My heart banged against my ribs. The dickhead stabbed me?
Gingerly, I lifted my faded black SFU t-shirt, and at the sight of the three-inch-long gash and seeping blood, I swallowed, bile tracking up my throat. At least it wasn’t deep. Before Petra saw the gore, I grabbed my open-front black sweater from the chair and drew it on. Darn, I couldn’t call Max. If he saw this, he would blow a gasket, then Ila would find out, and that would just convince her that I couldn’t take care of myself. With War keeping far away from fights, it left only one person. I hit his name.
“Ray?”
At Jack’s low drawl, my roiling insides calmed a little. “Jack, I need help. Everything’s fine,” I added quickly. No matter his sensual torment of me, he was worse than the other two put together when it came to my safety as I’d recently found out. “It’s my friend.” I reeled off Petra’s address as the pounding on the door grew, followed by…kicking? God.
“What is that?” Jack demanded.
“Please, just get here.” I rang off before he could question me further. I glanced around. The room was a mess with the coffee table overturned, magazines scattered, along with cushions thrown on the floor, and the side table near the front lying on its side.
I bent to pick up the table—damn, my side hurt. Breathing hurt. Shit. Lightheadedness swept through me, probably from the hit to my jaw.
Grimacing, I made my way into the bathroom, instead, searching the sink cupboard there until I found a small Tupperware container of first-aid stuff. Gauze in hand, I cleaned the wound with disinfectant, then pressed another gauze pad on it. Hopefully, it would stop the bleeding. Then I just stood there, praying the dizziness would subside. Man, I really needed to get to my dorm and lie down.
I left the bathroom and found Petra in the living room, carrying Cara and waiting for me.
She started apologizing again. “I’m so sorry, Ray—”
“It’s fine, and not your fault,” I reassured her. “I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you or Cara. But seriously, Pet, get a restraining order at least.”
She blinked, her dark eyes wet with tears and despair. “It won’t end. I just wish he’d go away. Permanently.”
“Hey…” I rubbed her arm. “You still have people who care about you. You aren’t alone. I’m here for you. Call Robert. He’ll keep you safe and Oscar away.”
Rob was her older, married brother, who worked as security for some company. And being built like a linebacker came in handy in his job.
I inhaled a shallow breath, the wound burning worse than Wilbur’s scratches. “Pet, I don’t think I can babysit, my head hurts—”
“No, no. It’s okay, honey. I called the agency and said I couldn’t make it. Told them I broke my ankle.” She shrugged wearily. “Well, that’s over. It-it’s really quiet out there,” she whispered, hope in her eyes. “You think he’s gone?”
“I don’t know.”
A knock on the door startled us. Petra’s eyes widened.
“Ray?” At the familiar, deep voice, I exhaled in relief. How did he get here so fast? Ugh, I really didn’t care, I was just glad he came. “It’s Jack.”
Petra blinked at me in surprise, then she hurried over and peered through the peephole before opening the door.
Jack stepped inside and cast a quick look around. Petra had put things to rights while I was in the bathroom. Then his gaze settled on me. “Ray?” He strode over. “That drunk lying outside?”
“It’s my ex,” Petra said, hugging Cara close to her.
“So, he’s responsible for the splintered door. The police will be here soon…”
“No, you can’t—” I broke off, I biting back a wince at the pain flaring in my jaw.
“Too late. He’s dangerous…” his words faded as his gaze settled on my jaw. His features morphed into a hardness I’d never seen in him before. “He fucking hurt you.”
Crap. If he saw the wound, it wouldn’t end well. He pivoted for the door and Oscar, but I grabbed his forearm. “Jack, don’t, please? I got in the way when he tried to strike Petra. She’ll get into trouble with her landlord again—she’ll lose her home.”
His rigid expression didn’t soften. “I’ll handle it.”
I bit my lip and lowered my hand. Sighing, and trusting him not to get my friend in trouble, I picked up my backpack from the couch. “Thanks, Jack,” I murmured.
