N. Walters - MacNamaras Lady

He started across the road at a lope. He already had his cell phone out, dialing 9-1-1. “Hey, let her go.” The men ignored him and pulled the woman deeper into the shadows. The guy’s hands were all over her even as she struggled.

He heard a voice answer his call and put the receiver to his ear just in time to hear, “And what is your emergency?”

“Two guys attacking a woman.” He quickly gave the address and hung up, stuffing his phone in his coat pocket. The woman screamed again and cursed her attackers. He recognized that voice.

Fury jolted through him like a runaway locomotive. Missy. They had his Missy.

T.S. didn’t think about the fact one or both men probably had weapons. He simply attacked, grabbing the first man by his arm. He was a big son of a bitch with gold loops in his ear and a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude. But T.S. was no slouch. He’d grown up in the projects and if there was one thing he knew how to do it was fight dirty.

He didn’t waste time trying to reason with them. He’d sized them both up in an instant and these were the kind of guys who talked with their fists. He slammed his closed hand in the guy’s face. It didn’t seem to faze his opponent. He shook off the punch and whirled with a roar of anger. At least he’d released Missy. He didn’t look at her, couldn’t afford to be distracted.

The guy came at T.S. and he didn’t waste time. He wished like hell he was wearing his steel-toed work boots, but his heavy-soled dress shoes would have to do. He brought his foot up and drove it right into the guy’s balls. His opponent’s eyes glazed over and his hands immediately dropped to his groin. Then he dropped like a stone.

There was no time for him to pause to enjoy the picture of the big guy rolling in agony on the sidewalk. T.S. spun back around to Missy and her other attacker. The guy was wrestling with her, but she was holding her own, scratching at his face, jabbing at him with her keys. Her attacker brought his hand back, curling his fingers into a fist.

T.S. roared and leapt forward, grabbing the guy’s hand and using his grip to pull him away from Missy. “Run,” he yelled at her.

This new opponent was wiry but tough. He smirked at T.S. then pulled out a knife. It was long and sharp with a black handle and a silver pommel shaped like a skull. And from the way he held it, he was obviously a pro at using it.

He took a swipe and T.S. jumped back, barely keeping the blade from slicing through his coat. He kicked out and hit the guy’s knee. The leg buckled, but his opponent danced aside before T.S. could follow through with a punch.

Missy edged along the building, moving steadily around the guy. Why the hell wasn’t she running back to Lucas’ place like he’d told her?

The knife swung toward T.S. again and he jumped back. The blade ripped through his sleeve. The guy obviously kept his blade sharp, damn him. T.S. was going to have to pay for the damage to the damn tuxedo rental.

The guy on the ground was stirring, rolling to his knees. T.S. spun around, delivering a roundhouse kick to his head and the guy hit the pavement again.

That moment of inattention cost T.S. as knife guy jabbed at him. He felt the blade sink into his upper arm and swore as he jerked back out of range. He dimly heard Missy yelling and sirens getting closer. All his attention was on the man currently trying to slice and dice him.

Footsteps echoed on the pavement behind him. T.S. didn’t dare turn to see who it was. He hoped like hell it was the cops. His arm was beginning to hurt like a motherfucker, but he ignored the pain and the blood seeping from the wound.

Knife guy’s eyes widened and he whirled around and took off running. T.S. wanted to chase the guy and grind him into the sidewalk, but he couldn’t leave Missy. The footsteps were closer now and he could hear someone yelling. He turned to face this newest threat.

“Thank you.” Missy threw herself into his arms. His injured arm protested but he ignored it. She was safe and she felt so damn good snuggled close to him. Nothing else mattered. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight to his chest, breathing a sigh of relief.

“You’re okay?” He pushed her away and studied her face in the dim light coming from the street lamp.

She nodded and tugged her coat closed, but not before he caught a glimpse of her ripped dress and what appeared to be nail marks on her skin.

A low growl of anger was ripped from him. Missy’s eyes widened but she didn’t move away from him.

“You okay, man?” Lucas was beside him, tugging at his coat. “Let me look at your arm. You’re cut.”

“I’m fine,” he protested, not wanting Missy to move away from him.

“Ohmygod, you’re hurt.” Her gaze went to his hand and he realized there was no hiding the blood dripping from his fingertips.

“I’m fine,” he assured her. Although the pain was sharp as Lucas helped him remove his coat, he was alert. He’d had worse. But not in a lot of years.

A black and white pulled up next to them, lights flashing, but siren now off. Two officers climbed out of their vehicle, guns drawn. “What’s going on here?”

Missy stepped forward into the light and both men slowly lowered their weapons. “I was attacked.” She pointed her finger at the guy sitting on the sidewalk with Cain Benjamin, who had come with Lucas from the wedding reception, standing next to him like a sentinel. “By him and another guy. One got away.” She pointed down the road. “Skinny white guy, about five foot ten, black jacket, white T-shirt, brown hair, dead blue eyes. He has a knife.”

One officer reached back into the car and grabbed the radio. While he was calling in to dispatch, the other officer came over. “What happened to him?” he pointed at T.S.

“He saved me.” Missy’s voice quavered and T.S. pushed Lucas aside and drew her into his arms, ignoring the blood seeping from his injury.

“It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

“And who are all of you?” the officer asked.

It was Lucas who responded. “Friends. They were both at my wedding reception just down the road. Missy called on her cell phone, her voice frantic. When she said she was being attacked, we all ran down.”

T.S. noted there were six other friends from the reception besides Lucas and Cain. Justin was there but, now that the cops were there, he melted into the shadows and disappeared. No one else noticed in all the confusion. T.S. couldn’t blame him. He wouldn’t mind doing the same thing and taking Missy with him.

Missy was shaking and he knew it was a combination of cold and shock. “I need a blanket.”

One officer put cuffs on the guy T.S. had brought down while the other one got a blanket and tried to put it around Missy. T.S. took it from him and put it around her shoulders himself.

More footsteps pounded on the sidewalk. He glanced up and almost smiled. Candy raced down the sidewalk. She was wearing sneakers and an old leather jacket over her wedding dress. Katie Benjamin was right behind her.

“Missy!” Candy cried and went immediately to her best friend.

T.S. hated to release Missy, but he suddenly wasn’t feeling so good. His stomach was queasy and the world was slightly blurry. He blinked to clear his vision, which worked, but he wavered slightly. Not good. Lucas caught him before he fell.

“Hey, buddy.” Lucas ripped the arm off T.S.’ already-destroyed shirt and wrapped it around the injury, which was now throbbing nonstop. “Time to get you to a hospital. You’re going to need stitches.”

“Only if Missy goes too.” He dug in his heels on this. He wanted a doctor to check her over and clean those scratches on her upper chest.

“You’re both going.” Candy stood beside Missy, determination radiating from her. She might be small but she was fierce when it came to protecting those she loved. T.S. liked that about her.