The Criminal's Girl

Chapter 4

Locking eyes with my assailant, I wretched when I saw who it was, Darius Maxwell. Damn in a hole, why can it never be an easy exit? I asked rhetorically.

“Harleigh Swain, it’s been a while,” he breathed huskily, his face intimidating so close to mine. I couldn’t respond, as though my mouth was frozen shut. “Speechless? I guess I should take that as a compliment, seeming as your mouth hardly shut at all before,” he laughed at his own sick joke as I choked.

“Get off me,” I whispered, praying that Tony would find me.

“I don’t think so Harls, we’ve got some unfinished business between us, I think.” Eyeing up my outfit openly, I shuddered and opened my mouth, about to scream before his hand clamped over it. “Uh-uh-ah, Harls, we don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves,” he threatened. Closing my eyes as his fingers started to trail up my arm, I suddenly felt him being dragged off of me.

My eyes widened as I saw Xavier punch Darius into the opposite wall, Darius’ face gushing with blood as the skin opened beneath Xavier’s fist. I watched, shell-shocked as Xavier’s fists and booted feet kept pounding into Darius, who was crumpled in a heap, moaning softly. “Piece of shit, you don’t touch a girl like that, not ever!”

Finding my voice, I said softly then louder, “Xavier, stop,” I said. Seeing him continue beating the living crap out of Darius and said more forcefully, “Xavier stop, please, stop it. He’s not worth it,” I shouted, laying a soft palm on Xavier’s shoulder.

Xavier glanced up and paused, locking eyes on my face as my hand slid down his arm and intertwined with his fingers. Even mid-battle, he was beautiful. I tugged at his hand and pulled him along, into the club area which had become a lot more packed. I ushered him to the bar and sat him on one of the chairs, signalling over a bartender.

“Can I get some ice wrapped in a dish cloth please?” I asked out. My gaze moved to Xavier’s finger’s I was still holding and I sucked in a breath at the bruises and open cuts along his knuckles. “I’m sorry.” I apologised.

“What? Why are you sorry, it was that mug over there putting his hands all over you when you clearly didn’t want him to?” Xavier responded immediately.

“Yeah, but, you only stepped in to help me and for that at least, I’m sorry,” I said apologetically, and I could see his lips quirk upwards.

“It wasn’t an issue, Angel, don’t apologise. Look at me, I’ve come out of it a helluva lot better than the other guy,” Xavier smirked.

“Even still_” I broke off as the bartender returned with ice and antiseptic solution and cotton balls. For a bartender, he’s really tooled up first Aid-wise, I thought. Answering my question, Xavier smiled as he read my surprised expression and explained, “It’s not uncommon to have fights here.”

“Oh,” I understood and lowering my eyes, I took up the antiseptic and balls, damped the cotton and smoothed it over Xavier’s knuckles, gently. Hissing out a breath, I caught his cringe as the antiseptic cleaned the wound. “Did that hurt?”

“No!” he replied almost too quickly, and I smiled. Continuing with even strokes, I bathed and cleaned the wound before picking up the ice-cube bundle wrapped in a dish cloth and pressed it firm to Xavier’s hand, helping it flex it gently.

“Is that any good?” I asked.

“That’s great;” Xavier smirked up at me and then asked, “What’s your name, Angel?”

For a second I forgot how to speak as I gazed into his dark, forest-green eyes, “Uh...”

“Now, I’m sure that’s not your name, Angel. Don’t I get to know the name of my saviour?”