They’d come help her. They’d get here in time. If only she could scream. She had to get out of this. This couldn’t be happening to her.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Buttons scattered across the alley as he jerked her blouse open, revealing her little pink bra. She’d worn the blouse for Dante, her favorite blouse. Pink and white checks with tiny heart buttons. She’d even chosen white shorts to match. She was lying on the filthy ground now in her white shorts, felt the moisture from the ground seeping through, knew they’d be ruined. She was ruined. Tears pricked her eyes, the burn making her blink. She didn’t know whether to keep her eyes open, to try to see what he looked like, or keep them shut so she wouldn’t recognize him, so he might let her live.
What was it her dad had always tried to teach her? She couldn’t remember. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be inside the shop with the guys. The guys were in there. They’d help her.
He grabbed her breast, squeezed it hard. It hurt. Oh, it hurt. He moved the knife down along her throat to her chest.
“You’re mine, bitch. Always mine.”
He cut through her bra. She was shaking so hard now that chills racked her body. He bent down and licked her nipple.
Bile rose in her throat and she turned her head away. She wouldn’t watch. She couldn’t.
But now she remembered what her dad said. Fight. Don’t give in.
This was different. No way was she going to die. She’d do anything not to die.
Then he cut her. Oh, God, he was cutting her. It burned like her skin was on fire. She felt the warm trickle of blood down her chest. Nothing had ever hurt this bad. She couldn’t believe this was happening.
And then she knew. He was going to kill her.
Her dad was right. She had to fight. If she was going to die, she wasn’t going to go lying here and letting him do what he wanted to her.
She opened her eyes, stared at him, memorized his face. She wanted him to know she saw him. Then she bit down on his hand and he jerked it away. Taking that brief second, she opened her mouth and screamed. He slapped her so hard she couldn’t think through the dizziness.
He clamped his hand over her mouth again, his other hand jerking at her shorts.
Please, please, somebody help me!
“Anna’s taking a long time with the trash.” Dante got up and went behind the counter toward the back door.
“You know she gets mad when you go back there,” Jeff said.
“I don’t care. I should have taken the trash out for her. I don’t like her out there by herself.”
“You just wanna go out there so you can kiss her,” Roman said with a roll of his eyes. “I’m ready to go watch movies.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dante said as he opened the back door, and heard the scream.
He pushed off the door and ran like hell, not even bothering to see if the others followed. He ran so hard his legs burned, his whole body shaking in fear.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a guy scrambling to his feet near the Dumpster. And he saw feet-tennis shoes. Anna’s.
Shit. Shit. He skidded to a stop at the Dumpster.
Anna was on the ground, her clothes undone. It was pitch-black out there, but he could see her, pale and shivering and bleeding. Goddammit.
“Grab him!” He motioned to Gabe and the others as they whizzed by him.
Dante had dropped to his knees in front of Anna. She was bleeding at her chest. Her blouse was torn, her face swollen. Tears welled in his eyes and emotion he’d never felt before filled him. He wanted to grab her and cry. He hadn’t cried since his parents…
Hold it together for Anna.
“You okay?”
She nodded, jerking the tattered edges of her blouse together.
“How bad are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket. “Let me see.”
She squeezed her hands tight over her chest.
“Anna, baby, let me see how bad it is.”
She lifted tear-filled eyes to his and it shredded a hole in his heart, especially when she dropped her hands and her blouse fell away. The guy had cut her bra in half. Dante swallowed and patted at the spot where the bastard had cut her, just above her left breast. There, he’d carved the shape of a heart.
Goddamn. Son of a bitch. Motherfucker.
Rage blinded him. Dante heard his own breath sawing in and out, felt his blood pounding in his ears. He wanted to tear the guy apart. But right now he had to focus on Anna. He forced himself to smile down at her as he pressed the handkerchief to her chest. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders, leaving him in only his tank top.
“It’s okay. It’s going to be all right. Put this on.” He helped her slide her arms into his shirt, then buttoned every single button. “You stay right here and I’ll be back for you, okay?”
She looked up at him, her bottom lip trembling. Then she gave him a brief nod. She was alive. That’s all that mattered.
Dante stood and turned to where the guys had cornered the bastard who’d done this. He’d hurt Anna. Dante didn’t even want to think about what else he’d done to her.
Anger and rage and guilt boiled inside him. The guy stood there with a smart-ass smirk on his face like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“She okay?” Gabe asked as Dante stepped beside him.
Dante swallowed. “He hurt her. He cut her.” Dante put his hand on his chest where Anna’s wound was.
“Fuck,” Gabe whispered.
They all knew, would all feel the same fury that someone would hurt Anna.
Sweet Anna, who didn’t have a mean word for anyone, who would never hurt anyone.
The others stepped away as Dante came toward him. The guy jerked back as if he was going to run.
Oh, no, you don’t.
Dante tackled the guy before he could get away, flinging his body on top of him. It was insane after that. Instinct kicked in, all those years of street fights with fists and knives. Of survival, of doing whatever it took to stay alive, of defending those who couldn’t defend themselves.
Anna hadn’t been able to defend herself. This guy was twice her size.
Men didn’t hurt women.
The guy rolled and kicked Dante away, then sprang to his feet, pulling a knife. A bloody knife-Anna’s blood.
Anger so deep it boiled in his bones raged inside Dante. He saw the blood on the knife and thought of what Anna had gone through. No way was this dude getting out of the alley. The guy waved the knife at Dante, but he was no match for the four of them. They’d gotten into more fights together than Dante could count and they were damn good at working together.
Dante stared him down, holding his attention as Gabe moved behind the man and grabbed his arm, jerking the knife out of his hands.
Fury took hold, then. Dante pulled his arm back and let it swing full force at the guy’s face. He staggered as if he was high or something, but Dante didn’t care. His fist connected with the bastard’s nose and Dante felt the impact, satisfied by the crunching sound. The guy didn’t say a word, just pulled to his feet again, ready for more.
Yeah, he had to be tweaking or something to get up after the punch Dante gave him. Dante shoved him back down and the others jumped in, and then it was fists and feet and blood and the guy didn’t stand a chance.
He didn’t know when the dude had stopped moving, but at some point Dante was out of breath and his fists hurt. He backed off.
“Stop. He’s done for.” Dante moved away, pulled the others off.
They stood there looking down at the guy who looked nothing like he had when they’d first come on the scene. He was a bloody pulp of a mess. Dante kicked at him, but he didn’t move. He was out cold.
He went to Anna, bent over her.
“Anna.”
She stared at her attacker, didn’t look at Dante.
“Anna.” Dante touched her and she flinched. He reached for her shoulders. “It’s Dante. Look at me.”