Run To You

bloated. He had a black ponytail and soul patch because he was under the delusion that it made him look younger. It just made him look sad.
    “Good night,” she said, and stepped around him.
    “Some of my friends are meeting me here.” He grabbed her arm, and his booze-soaked breath smacked her across the face. “Party with us.”
    She took a step back but he didn’t release her. Her Mace was in her backpack, and she couldn’t get to it one-handed. “I can’t.” Anxiety crept up her spine and sped up her heart. Relax. Breathe , she told herself before her anxiety turned into panic. She hadn’t had a full-blown attack in several years. Not since she’d learned how to talk herself out of one. This is Ricky. He wouldn’t hurt you. But if he tried, she knew how to hurt him . She really didn’t want to shove the heel of her hand in his nose or her knee in his junk. She wanted to keep her job. “I’m meeting someone,” she lied.
    “Who? A man? I bet I have more to offer.”
    She needed her job. She made good money and was good at it. “Let go of my arm, please.”
    “Why are you always running away?” The lights from the back of the bar shone across the thin layer of sweat above his top lip. “What’s your problem?”
    “I don’t have a problem, Mr. De Luca.” And she pointed out rather reasonably, or so she thought, “I’m your employee. You’re my boss. It’s just not a good idea for us to party together.” Then she topped it off with a little flattery. “I’m positive there are a lot of other women who would just love to party with you.” She tried to pull away but his grasp tightened. Her keys fell to the ground, and an old familiar fear turned her muscles tight. Ricky wouldn’t hurt me , she told herself again as she looked into his drunken gaze. He wouldn’t hold her against her will.
    “If you’re nice to me, I’ll be nice to you.”
    “Please let go.” Instead, he gave her a hard jerk. She planted her free hand on his chest to keep from falling into him.
    “Not yet.”
    A deep rasp of a voice spoke from behind Ricky. “That’s twice.” The voice was so chilly it almost cooled the air, and Stella tried in vain to look over Ricky’s left shoulder. “Now let her go.”
    “Fuck off,” Ricky said, and turned toward the voice. His grip slid to her wrist and she took a step back. “This is none of your business. Get out of my fucking lot.”
    “It’s hot and I don’t want to work up a sweat. I’ll give you three seconds.”
    “I said fuc—” A solid thud snapped Ricky’s head back. His grasp on her relaxed and he slid to the ground. Her mouth fell open and she sucked in a startled breath. Her Amy pouf tilted forward as she stared down at the tangerine lump at her feet. She blinked at him several times. What had just happened? Ricky looked like he was out cold. She pushed at his arm with the toe of her boot. Definitely out cold. “Holy frijole y guacamole,” she said on a rush of exhaled breath. “You killed him.”
    “Not hardly.”
    Stella glanced up from Ricky’s tangerine shirt to the big chest covered in a black T-shirt in front of her. Black pants, baseball cap, he was almost swallowed up in the black night like some hulking ninja. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she felt his gaze on her face. As cool as his voice and just as direct. There was something familiar about him. “I don’t think that was three seconds.”
    “I get impatient sometimes.” He tilted his head to one side and glanced down at Ricky. “This is your boss?”
    She looked down at Ricky. He was her boss. Not now . She couldn’t work for him now, which was moot because she was pretty sure she was fired. “Is he going to be okay?” And that made her mad. She had rent and utilities and a car payment.
    “Do you care?”
    Ricky snored once, twice, and she glanced back up into the shadows beneath the brim of his hat. Square chin and jaw. Thick neck. Big shoulders. Anna’s G.I. Joe. Did she care? Probably not as much as she should. “I don’t want him to die.”
    “He’s not going to die.”
    “How do you know?” She’d heard of people dying from one blow to the head.
    “Because if I wanted him dead, he’d be dead. He wouldn’t be snoring right now.”
    “Oh.” She didn’t know anything about the man standing in front of her, but she believed him. “Is Anna out here with you?” She looked behind him at the empty parking lot.
    “Who?”
    Stella knelt down and quickly