My girl knows how to take care of herself.

My girl knows how to take care of herself.
Violet

The gym had security cameras, but I was sure no one was watching them. Of course, no one came to help me as Mike Manfreidi tried to pull me out of the room by my hair.

My eyes were full of tears from the blow to my head. Little spots of light danced in front of me, and for a second, I thought I might black out.

What did he plan to do with me in the hallway? I grabbed onto the weight bench to stop him, my teeth pressed together against the terrible pulling on my scalp. I suppose I should be grateful to my mother; I got this thick, strong hair from her. The problem was, the bench was not bolted down. He just kept pulling, dragging me and the bench along with him.

I needed to find a way to get some power over him. He was not a big man, or very tall, but he had a wiry, angry strength. I let go of the bench and let him pull me into the open space near the door. Then I made my move, grabbing his wrist and spinning my body around until I was facing him.

He looked like some kind of ugly bird, with a hooked nose hanging over his thin mouth. His small, dark eyes shone with pure hate. It was difficult to believe he was part of the same family as my Kingsley men, or even Bennett. They were all strong and handsome. He grinned down at me and started to pull his fist back, but I was faster. I twisted his wrist and arm with so much force that he had to throw himself onto the floor or let the bone snap.

Once we were both on the ground, I was in a place I understood. Every hour I had spent in grappling practice suddenly made sense. All the drills, all the times I had held back to avoid hurting a training partner, all the times I had let someone tap out safely, it all led to this moment.

I felt a strange, deep calm.

Mike Manfreidi thought he was going to kidnap me from this hotel, and he was most likely going to kill me. I wondered if he realized Bennett had already tied him to my father’s murder. Killing me now would not really save him, but looking into his eyes, I saw a dark, cruel person who did not care about that. He cared less about hiding his crime and more about making me feel pain.

“Mike,” I said. My head was pounding, but my thoughts were becoming clear again. “How many times did you follow me to my karate classes?”

He grinned at me, a string of spit falling from his lip. “Dozens,” he said, the word spraying toward me. It was disgusting.

“So… you know I have a black belt, right?”

He put his hands around my neck and began to squeeze. He moved so he was sitting on me, holding my body down on the floor. He did not realize he was exactly where I wanted him.

“I am not scared of a little girl like you. What will you do, karate chop me, princess?”

Him calling me ‘princess’ made me see red. That was Michael’s name for me. No one else was allowed to use it. I drove the heel of my palm up into his teeth, shutting his filthy mouth for him. “Do not call me that.”

He spit out a glob of blood, and a tooth came with it. His bottom lip was cut from his own teeth and was starting to swell in a way that was almost funny. He used his grip on my neck to slam my head back against the floor, but I was only getting started.

I ignored the throbbing at the back of my skull, planted my heels, and shoved my hips up, throwing him off balance. He had to let go of my neck to stop himself from falling on his face. His instinct made him put his hands down, and the second my neck was free, I was moving, sliding under his arms and to the side. I slammed my elbow into his, forcing the joint to bend backward.

There was a good, solid sound of bone breaking, but before the little man could even scream, I had my legs wrapped around his neck.

Michael burst through the door at that moment and almost stepped on us. “Jesus, Violet, what the fuck!”

“This… argh… crazy bitch… attacked me!” Mike Manfreidi choked out. His scrawny chicken neck was so thin my legs could not quite close off his air.

“Not yet, I have not,” I said through my teeth. I let go of his neck just long enough to drive my foot into his groin, then followed it by smashing my elbow into his throat. His scream turned into a choked gurgle. He tried to swipe at me with his good arm, so I gave him the karate chop he had been waiting for. Sort of. I landed a hard strike right to his liver. While he curled into a ball, I put him in a better choke hold, using my arms this time, with my legs locked around his middle.

“There,” I said, feeling a small amount of satisfaction. “Now you can tell the police I attacked you.”

“Stupid bitch,” he choked out. “I am… the… police.”

I rolled him slightly to the side. “Take his gun,” I told Michael.

Manfreidi tried to kick out at Michael as he bent down, so I jammed my heel into his knee. Another scream tore out of him. Michael pulled the gun from the hidden holster under the man’s t-shirt. “Check his boots,” I ordered. I was sure the asshole was not wearing those ugly boots just for show. Michael pulled off the snakeskin boots and found a knife in a sheath strapped to the inside of his left calf.

“Call the state police,” I told him. “My phone is over there. I have the number saved under Pelino and Banks.”

Michael went across the room, jumping over the fallen weight bench to get my phone. I called out the passcode, and he found the number. He had a short, tense talk with Officer Banks. “He says they will be here in ten, fifteen minutes at most. They were already in Rutberg to arrest my father.”

The news made me hurt for him, and I might have loosened my grip for a second. Manfreidi tried to use it, so I pulled my forearm tight against his neck and used my other hand to lock it in place until he finally went limp. I shoved his unconscious body away and stood up, rubbing my sore scalp and the swollen lump on my head.

“Violet?” Michael rushed to me, pulling me into his arms, his hands moving over me to check for injuries. “Oh shit, I am so sorry! This is all my fault. I should not have left you alone! I…”

I put my fingers on his lips to stop the flood of guilty words.

“I am fine,” I told him. I turned in his arms to look down at the crooked cop. Right then, he did not look like an officer. He was in black jeans and a t-shirt. His ugly cowboy boots were off, showing mismatched socks, one with a hole in the toe that revealed nasty, yellowed toenails. His arm was bent all wrong, and I knew, even if he woke up, he was not going anywhere.

I had broken his knee, too.

“That motherfucker killed my father,” I said, as the truth settled over me. This was the monster who took my Daddy from me. He was the one who stole the parent who made my life happy and stable, even with my mother’s problems. He made me grow up too fast, forced me to be my mother’s support, and made me live through three long years of hell.

For good measure, I pulled my foot back and kicked him again, landing the edge of my foot in his ribs. I probably broke a few in my rage.

It was not enough. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to crush him. I wanted to take that gun from Michael, put it under Manfreidi’s chin, and watch his eyes as I pulled the trigger, just like he did to my father.

But I did not.

Even with all the burning hate, I was not a murderer. I was not like him.

I turned back to Michael and held onto him, feeling my body start to shake as the adrenaline left me. I took slow, deep breaths, digging my fingers into Michael’s t-shirt and holding on. A minute later, two security guards from the hotel hurried into the room. One was a short, round man who looked like a soft dumpling with stubble. The other was so bent and fragile he looked old enough to be my grandfather.

“What the hell is happening here?” the dumpling asked. “We heard screaming from the gym.”

“This man attacked my girlfriend,” Michael said. He pointed at the man on the floor with the hand that was still holding the gun.

The two men stared, their eyes going wide. The older one put a hand on his radio. The elderly guard looked from the man on the floor to me and back again. “Are you sure he attacked her?”

“Why do you not go and check the security footage,” I snapped, turning my head from Michael’s chest to glare at the useless guards. “That man is wanted for murder. The state police are on their way right now.”

The two men looked at each other with worried faces. “Better tell the manager,” the fat one muttered. “He is not going to be happy about having the police here.”

“I bet he will be even less happy to learn an unregistered guest got into a restricted area and attacked a woman while you were supposed to be watching,” Michael growled.

“Well, I guess she is lucky you got here in time,” the old guard said with a stupid smile. He looked down at the man on the floor. “You sure did a number on him.”

“I would have loved to put my fist through his face,” Michael said, a proud grin spreading across his face. “But I did not have to.” He looked down at me and stroked my cheek with so much love. “My girl knows how to take care of herself.”