Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(49)

"Stay in the car. I'll be right out." Jonathan instructed, shutting the door behind him.

I sunk into the seat with my arms crossed, watching one of the men in leather clasp the hand of another who approached from a Camaro. The guy from the Camaro had a shaved head and broad shoulders, and wore a pair of black sunglasses, even though it was nearly midnight. Creepy characters flocked to this place, making me wonder why my mother would ever stop here.

One of the smokers glanced in my direction, and my heart started racing. I quickly looked down, hoping he couldn't see inside the car.

"Keep your fucking hands off me, John," a woman threatened, redirecting my attention.

The men were laughing as a woman with tight jeans and a cropped leather jacket thrust the door open to enter, glaring at them. The man with the leather trench coat and long, thick mustache was still watching me. I shuddered and tried to sink further into the seat. He nudged the tall guy with the heaving waistline next to him, nodding toward me and saying something. The guy laughed and nodded his head.

"Jonathan, where are you?" I whispered, anxiously staring at the black door, begging him to come through it. I looked back and the mustached cretin grinned at me. My heart spasmed and my hands started shaking. I quickly flipped my eyes down, hoping he'd lose interest.

"Come on out of the car, sweet thing," he beckoned, making the rest of the men take notice. "Let me buy you a drink." There were laughs and sinister grins in reaction to my panic-stricken face. I made sure the doors were locked and silently pleaded once again for Jonathan to appear with my mother.



       
         
       
        

The scruffy man made a move toward the car, and my breathing faltered. I was trying to decide what to do when the black door thrust open, stopping him in his tracks. Jonathan emerged with my mother passed out in his arms. I exhaled in relief, unlocked the doors and jumped out of the car to open the back door for them.

Jonathan gently laid her across the backseat. I threw a sideways glance at the man standing at the front of the car. The grin on his face was abhorrent. I couldn't keep my hands from shaking while I waited for Jonathan to adjust her. I just wanted to get away from there as fast as possible.

"Hey, buddy," the man hollered to Jonathan. I remained frozen by the door. Jonathan shut the back door and started to walk around the back of the car, not paying attention. "Hey, you." Jonathan stopped, recognizing the burly man in the trench coat was talking to him. "Why don't you let me take one of those girls off your hands? I could show this one a good time." I cringed as he molested me with his eyes.

"Are you talking to me?" Jonathan bit back, his threatening tone making my eyes widen in alarm.

"Yes, I'm talking to you," the man growled. "I want a taste." His mustache spread into a detestable smirk, and he started in my direction. I pressed against the car, blindly feeling for the handle while keeping my eyes on him. I was fearful of provoking him with any sudden movement―move slow and he won't attack.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Jonathan's deep voice warned through clenched teeth. I flipped my eyes toward Jonathan, shaken again by edge in his voice. The rest of the men became quiet and squared off toward Jonathan, whose hands were slowly flexing into fists by his side.

The man crept toward me until he had me in his direct sight, not giving Jonathan any consideration.

"I think you'd taste good," his cigarette and alcohol laden breath coated my face. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, paralyzed. Fear held me hostage as he leaned in. The car rocked, and I opened my eyes to find Jonathan gripping the man's collar, pinning him against the car.

"Don't you fucking touch her," Jonathan grunted. The guy was taller than Jonathan, but Jonathan was broader. Jonathan glowered inches from his face. The crowd shuffled forward, prepared to join in if necessary.

The two men stared at each other for a second before the cretin snarled, "What are you going to do?"

Jonathan raised his fist.

"Jonathan, don't," I begged, released from my paralysis when I realized what was about to happen. "Please, let's just go." The crowd was prepared to brawl. My entire body shook as the tension mounted.

Jonathan caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye. His face was hard and full of rage, but his expression flickered when he saw the fear on my face. The fire smoldered and his eyes softened. He slowly lowered his fist. 

Jonathan was about to let him go when the man warned, "Listen to the girl. Why don't you just get the fuck out of here before I have to mess up that pretty face of yours." Jonathan narrowed his eyes at the threat, his jaw flexing. I inhaled sharply.