Oh, crap! Crap, crap, crap! Now that his anger was directed at me, the fear washed away my own rage. I stood still, my hands balled into fists. What the hell am I thinking?! My heart pounded. I wondered if, with the fear rising, I still had enough anger to hurt him. The power was already dissipating as I stared into his angry black eyes. He took a step toward me.
'You need a little lesson, young lady,' he threatened.
The mother and daughter both whimpered. I took a clumsy step backward as he advanced on me, tripped over my own feet and fell. He stood over me in an instant. I squeezed my eyes shut and instinctively raised my hands. They trembled over my face.
I heard a thud, but felt nothing. I peaked between my fingers. Phil was gone. He lay flat on his back on the ground ten yards away, staring up at… Tristan . A whoosh of air expelled from my lungs.
'I suggest you get out of here now ,' Owen, now next to Tristan, said to the wife-beater. His words were polite, but his tone was menacing. I never expected Owen to be so threatening.
'You need to mind your own damn business!' the man barked.
' GO! ' Tristan roared, his fist in the air, his arms bulging with obvious power. Phil flinched and his face paled under his dark tan. Then he scrambled to his feet and bolted for the parking lot.
Tristan followed, his fists clenched. I sat there, shaking uncontrollably, wondering what he would do. I didn't want to watch, but I couldn't make myself turn away yet. The mom and daughter watched Tristan, too, their tear- filled eyes wide with fear.
'Tristan, let him go!' Owen called after him. Tristan took a couple more steps, then stopped. Phil jumped into an orange, older model Camaro and peeled out. Owen rushed to me first. 'You okay?'
'I'm fine.' I nodded at Tristan. 'Is he?'
'I don't know.' Owen walked toward Tristan as he headed back to us and they both stopped within a few feet of each other.
'Did he hurt her?' Tristan demanded.
'Alexis is fine. Are you?'
Tristan nodded. 'What about the other two?'
They started back toward us. I crawled over to the little girl.
'Are you okay?' I asked.
She sobbed as she held her shoulder. The mother shook her head, dark strands sticking in the tears flowing down her bruising cheek.
'We need to go home,' she whispered.
'You can't go home!' I gasped. 'Won't he be there?'
'Not yet. He'll come later. But the longer we're gone, the worse it'll be,' she explained.
'Then don't go!'
'You don't understand….'
She was right. I had no clue why she would want to go home to him.
'Is there anywhere else you can go? We can take you somewhere.'
The woman didn't answer me, but stood up and brushed herself off. She pulled a pair of cut-off shorts and a t-shirt out of her beach bag and put them on. She held out a sundress to her daughter, who slowly rose to her feet, wincing as she put weight on her left foot. The mother then pulled keys out of her bag and shook them.
'We'll go to my sister's,' she said. She tried a smile. It looked forced. 'I drove us here. I can get us to her house.'
'Isn't there something we can do for you?' Tristan asked.
She bit her lip and blinked rapidly, holding back more tears. She answered quietly, 'I think you've done enough.'
She turned and headed toward her car. Her daughter tried to follow, limping and still holding her shoulder. Tristan gently scooped her up and Owen and I followed. Tristan set her down in the passenger seat of a blue Ford coupe. The three of us watched as they left, Tristan taking a few steps forward, as if he wanted to follow them.
'Will she really go back to him?' I asked.
'Probably,' Owen said. 'But we've done all we can.'
'No, we haven't,' Tristan grumbled, that steely undertone in his voice.
'Tristan…leave it alone,' Owen warned, eyeing him carefully. 'Maybe you should go. I'll take Alexis home.'
Tristan spun around. 'No, I'll take her.'
Owen shook his head. 'That's not a good idea. Sophia…'
'Sophia can deal with it!' Tristan barked, apparently not completely over his anger. I flinched and his eyes flew to me.
It was very fast and I could have imagined it. But for half a second I thought I saw what Carlie might have been talking about. The sparkles of gold in his eyes looked different, more like sparks of fire. His eyes looked… frightening . Maybe everyone else had been right. I waited for the nudge to return. Or even for the alarms. But nothing happened.
He must have seen something in my own eyes, though. His face immediately softened and his body relaxed. What anger he might have had just a second earlier—whether at the wife-beater or at my mom, I wasn't sure— didn't show in his eyes as he studied my face.
'Are you sure you're okay?' he asked, his voice smooth and silky again.
I forced a small smile. 'Yeah, I'm fine. Are you sure you are?'
The gold flecks sparkled now as he smiled slowly. He nodded. 'If you are, I am.'
I gave him a bigger smile, then turned to Owen.
'Thanks for the offer, Owen, but Tristan can take me home. I'll take care of Sophia.'
Owen narrowed his eyes as they bounced between Tristan and me.
'I'm gonna lose my job,' he said with a sigh.
'No, you won't,' I promised. 'It's not exactly in your job description to be worried about how I get home.'
He muttered something under his breath. Tristan smiled slightly, as if he'd heard.
'You're sure?' Owen asked me as he turned for his car.
'I'm positive. Sophia will get over it. Besides…it's not like she's my mother .' So, that wasn't exactly true, but they didn't know.
Owen snorted, jogged to his car and left.
I looked up at Tristan. 'You really don't mind, do you?'
The corners of his mouth twitched. 'A little late to be asking, don't you think?'
'So…you do mind? You need to be somewhere else? I can walk….'
After all that happened, I really didn't want to walk all the way home by myself now. But I would if I had to.
He chuckled. 'I said I'd take you home.'
He put his thumb under my chin and tilted my face up toward his. That strange current pulsed through my jaw and up to my temples. He gazed into my eyes, making my bones soften.
'There's nowhere I'd rather be,' he murmured. My heart skipped. He smiled before letting go. 'Ever been on a bike before?'
I followed him to the motorcycle, pleased it wasn't the crotch-rocket he usually rode to campus. The Harley came to life with its distinctive rumble. I climbed on and looked around for something to hold onto and found chrome handholds on each side of the seat. He looked over his shoulder at me and glanced down at my hands. He probably expected me to hold onto him. Part of me wanted to, but that was a closeness I wasn't quite ready for.
'Ready?' he asked.
I nodded.
It would have been a lot less tense if I had held onto him. It couldn't have been more unnerving with that small space between us. As the bike rumbled under us through the streets of the Cape, I felt arcs of electricity jumping between us. I was woozy by the time we pulled in front of the cottage and it wasn't from the vibration of
