“How dare you!” Jack hisses, twisting the man’s arm even farther. Bree and Arthur aren’t far behind, calling out Jack’s name. “How dare you attack us, at our own home!”
He releases the arm and slams a fist into the man’s face with a crunch. But I don’t have the wherewithal to move as he whales on GingerWatchman. And maybe I like it a little bit.
Then Bree and Arthur are there, and Arthur runs to my side.
“Fuck, Bennett!” he cries. “Your arm!”
I shake my head. “Go make sure Jack doesn’t kill that guy. I’m fine.”
The last thing we need is a lawsuit on our hands.
Twenty-Eight
Bree
The human man is screaming in pain as Jack delivers another punch to his face.
“Jack!” I shout, reaching for him. “You’ve got to stop.”
“This is him,” Jack says, panting. “This is the guy. The guy who forced you out of your home!”
He lands another punch.
“I know, but you can’t kill him.”
Jack finally stops, his chest heaving with his fury. He turns to look at me, and then his eyes are drawn to where Arthur is crouched over Bennett.
“Bennett?” Jack calls out. “Is he alright, Arthur?”
I’ve already got my phone out, even though my hands are shaking, and I’m doing my best to dial 911. I run over to Bennett’s side and find that in the dim light, I can make out dark, dark blood streaming from his arm onto the gravel.
Oh no, he’s hurt. He’s really, really hurt.
“He’s okay,” Arthur says, contrary to my thoughts, “but he needs help.”
Jack snarls and raises his arm to punch the man again.
“Jack, stop!” I cry out.
Jack is panting, clutching the guy’s bloody collar. “He hurt Bennett!”
Before I can answer, the operator picks up. “What’s the emergency?”
“There was an attack at my home with a knife,” I say in a rush. “My boyfriend’s injured.”
I rattle off the address, then hang up the phone. Jack hasn’t moved, keeping the man under him pinned. I come over to get a better look, but it’s hard to make out the guy’s features with blood pouring from his nose and mouth.
Arthur helps Bennett up to a sitting position, and it isn’t long before we hear sirens. I rush out to the main street to show the ambulance around to the back alleyway. Arthur has finally gotten Jack to let go, and the man is still laying on the ground groaning.
That night is a long, long night.
Arthur
“Maybe if you’d taken us seriously when Bree first reported the stalker, this wouldn’t have happened,” I snarl at the cop. I know I shouldn’t push our luck, now that all our statements are in and GingerWatchman—who appears on his ID as Jerry Gresham—is behind bars and awaiting bail. But I want to stick it in their faces that we were right.
Bree takes my hand in hers.
“Sorry, officer,” she says, waving a hand as the cop gears up to argue with me. “It’s been a really dreadful evening, and we’d like to go home.”
