A sucker punch to the gut from Geoff temporarily distracted me. I grunted, focusing on them, ending it quickly.
Khalid got a broken wrist, Geoff and Alaric broken noses, the nameless idiots a few broken ribs. When I’d finished with them, we’d gathered an audience, and they lay on the ground, moaning.
They all got off easy.
“Last warning,” I said. “Find me again, you’re dead.”
I wiped my bloody nose, looking for Abigail. I might have a black eye, and my ribs would hurt, but they were still rich boys relying on privilege to win their fights. They didn’t know what to do with someone like me, someone who not only fought back but knew how to fight.
I looked for Abigail and just barely found her before she left the boat. She stumbled, her head lolling to the side.
That was when I intervened.
The guy gave me one look before trying to brush me aside. “Get out of here, dog.”
I ignored him. “Abigail?”
She barely lifted her head, eyes glassy. “Theo.” She smiled brightly when she said my name.
That more than anything made me suspicious. Had she been drugged?
“Abigail, how much have you had to drink?” I narrowed my eyes, trying to see how dilated her pupils were.
“I like it when you glare at me.” She said it like it was a secret, giggling.
Definitely drugged.
My attention turned to the fucker holding her. “What the fuck did you give her?”
“He’s giving me roses, Theo. I think he likes me. I wish you liked me.”
A heartbeat hung in the air. I didn’t have a minute to contemplate her confession, because I was too busy realizing this guy was the guy. I thought he was another date-raping privileged fucker who didn’t understand the meaning of the word no, like the assholes I’d just reacquainted with my fists.
He was the fucker terrorizing her?
His eyes widened, then he dropped her. He fucking dropped her. I grabbed her by the waist before she hit the floor, holding her up. He sprinted out the door, pushing drunken and high revelers out of his way, heading for the dock.
Everything in me wanted to run after him. But if I let Abigail go, she would fall. Or worse, go to the hands of someone like Khalid. So I watched him run, memorizing everything about him. Chestnut hair. Blue eyes. About five foot eleven. Cleft chin.
Abigail leaned into me, murmuring something I couldn’t hear. I attempted to get her walking, but she was fading fast.
I lifted her into my arms. Her head fell to my shoulder, arms around my neck, burying her head in the crook of my neck. I couldn’t help but think about how nice she smelled, how good
she fit in my arms, and how fucked the reason for holding her was.
Her asshole peers made whooping noises as I carried her out. Bright flashes went off, taking pictures.
When we got to her room, Abigail fell to the bed easily, already asleep. I made sure her head was situated properly on her pillow. She hadn’t worn shoes, and the bottoms of her feet were dirty. I wondered if they’d hurt at all tonight.
An ache in my chest formed that I quickly ignored.
She was like a princess amid all the downy silk sheets. Her dark brown hair curled around her face.
I pushed away a stray strand, pausing.
Eyelashes fell on soft cheeks, and her pouty lips parted for hushed breaths. She didn’t look wicked when she slept. Could she really have been hurting all this time?
I tried to shake off the thought, but it lingered.