2/6

Summer knew how to flirt. It was practically a right of passage where she came from. There were girls that got it wrong. One's who tried too hard or not enough. Sluts. Whores. Prudes. Cock-teases. Summer had the perfect blend between coyness and natural sex appeal. And she could work anyone.

Before she got a chance to really flirt-the way she was born to-someone pulled her down from the top of the bar. There was too much noise. Too much confusion. Too much alcohol in her system. The room was spinning. She couldn't decipher where she was being led or by whom.

The hands that grabbed her were sweaty and rough.

"Ew, get away from me!" she cried, indignant.

One minute she had been doing a sexy dance to entertain a bunch of drunks and make herself feel a little adventurous, a little out of control, and the next thing she knew she was being manhandled by some overweight beast with bad body odour.

Someone would stop him. She was confident in that, but as the seconds ticked by and his hold got tighter she wasn't as confident. They weren't just going to let him get away with this were they? All these people were witnesses, they'd seen what happened. Why weren't they doing anything? This was a mistake. She shouldn't have come here.

She tried to bat his hands away, tried to squirm off his shoulder where he carried her in a fireman's lift, but nothing worked. Suddenly she knew this wasn't a game anymore. All her fantasies about being in a dangerous place, doing dangerous things, had come to a head and she'd been vastly unprepared for the reality of it all. She sobered quickly.

"Put me down!" she screamed, wailing on the man's back with her childlike fists.

The man smacked her ass and she could hear the cheers all around. Tears prickled her eyes.

This was not happening. It couldn't be.

They were still moving and no one was doing anything to stop them. Why hadn't she just gotten drunk in her closet or slept with a frat boy instead of hopping on a bus and going as far as her twelve dollars and ninety-five cents would take her? The tears fell silently and she couldn't do a damn thing to stop them...or him.

The backdoor swung open and she landed with a thud in the darkened alley. The ground was wet and slippery. When she tried to get up a strong hand pushed her back down, tearing at her clothes. Her fingers scratched along the cold asphalt, she felt her nail snag and break. Reaching out, she grasped for something, anything, to help her out of this situation. She made the decision that this was not going to happen to her. She began to fight back. The second time she kicked and flopped around becoming more persist and angered. For that, she received a smack across the face. Her lips wobbled and she knew she was two seconds away from losing it, from balling like a baby...and much worse. God, she'd been so stupid. And now she was going to pay for it.

Why did he always have get himself involved? Why did he always make it his business when a woman was being treated unkindly? He wasn't a fucking White Knight, but he was going to rescue her anyway.

Stubbing out his cigarette, he pushed his way through the crowd and followed. Some asshole in a trucker hat blocked his way and he was forced to push him into a table to get to the back door.

It only took three blows to bring down the big man. One to the back and two to his face when he turned to see what was happening. The man was out cold. The girl had moved to the corner, huddled by the trash bins, tugging at her clothes. Visibly shaking, she looked up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks, smearing her make-up. He could see her breasts protruding from an off-white camisole as she breathed giant breathes and he had to avert his eyes.

She was expecting him to ask if she was okay, he knew that, but he couldn't control his temper...or his libido.

She needed to cover up.

Now.

"Were you trying to get yourself raped?!"

"I-I..." her cheeks were flushed and red, angry fingermarks tattooed her arms. "It's none of your business!" she answered with conviction but the tremble in her lower lip gave her away.

He smirked. She wasn't as tough as she tried to act. This girl probably had been tough as nails in her own neighbourhood. The bitch that everyone feared. He could tell she had a nice size chip on her shoulder. Here, things weren't so easy -especially for pretty little white girls trying to act older than they were.

"Come on," he said, reaching out his hand. She hesitated. He took a step closer and softened his voice, trying to reassure her. "I'm not going to hurt you."

It took her a minute to collect herself and then she took his hand and let him help her up. Her fingers were cool and soft inside his palm.

Now that the crisis was over he got his first good look at her. Christ, she couldn't have been more than sixteen and looked frightened as hell. He started to feel a little guilty for yelling at her. But only a little. What she'd done had been stupid. And stupid people pissed him off. They always had a way of dragging him into their shit.

"I'll take you to the hospital." His voice was low, soft. "Grab your stuff."

He knew she was too shaken to disagree.

Leading them away proved difficult when she tugged at his arm to bring him back. "Wait. I-I left my bags inside."

He rolled his eyes but held the door open for her regardless and started to follow her inside. She stopped inside the door, looked back at the man lying on the pavement and then looked him directly in the eye before quickly looking away.

Great. Just fucking great. Now she thought he was some type of hero.