Page 11 of Protecting Peyton

Bursting inside, I yelled, “Call an ambulance.”

Lucas was the first to reach me. “What happened?”

I set her down gently on a nearby couch. “She got mugged.”

“Let me go,” Peyton complained.

A crowd grew around us.

“Where?” Terry demanded.

“Across and down the street.”

He took off for the door.

I forced her shoulder down. “We need to get you to the ER.”

“No.” Her answer was laced with determination. “I’ll be fine.”

“I called the cops,” Serena said from beside Duke.

“No cops,” Peyton insisted in a loud voice. “It was only twenty bucks.” She sat up and wobbled.

I grasped her arm to support her. “And your watch.” Losing a Rolex to a thief was no small deal.

“It was a knockoff.” Peyton pulled her arm loose. “I’m going home.”

I followed her as she rose and stomped off. “You should go to the hospital and get checked.” Getting your head hit hard enough to knock you out was no small matter.

She threw a middle finger over her shoulder as she reached the door.

“We protect our own. Look after her,” Lucas ordered. “See that she gets checked out.”

Damned hard-headed woman.I followed her outside. Letting her go alone before was a mistake I didn’t intend to repeat. Lucas’s order was unnecessary.

“You’re coming with me to the ER,” I called after her.

Slightly wobbly, she continued toward her bike. “No thanks.”

“Peyton, it’s not optional for you or me. Lucas ordered me to protect you and get you to the hospital, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.” Even if I had to carry her over my shoulder.

“I don’t need or want protection, especially from you.”

“When you’re safe, I’ll be out of your hair,” I promised. “Until then, you’re my responsibility.”

She stopped and turned. “Consider yourself relieved of that responsibility. I don’t need looking after.” She added air quotes.

“If you don’t like it, take it up with Lucas.”

“I said no. I’ll be fine.” She made no move to go back inside, clearly not liking her chances of changing Lucas’s mind.

“I won’t do another Tommy Willmont.” I took her wrist. “My problem is that I let Tommy Willmont convince me he didn’t need to see the medic after a piece of concrete fell on his head when a mortar round hit near us.”

She tried to tug free. I didn’t let her. “He didn’t wake up the next day—a brain bleed. And he was wearing a helmet. One way or another, you’re coming with me.”

“You’re a bully.”

“No. I’m selfish. I won’t have your death on my conscience. You can come willingly, or we can do this the hard way. Lucas told me to take care of you, and I damned well will do that.” I hoped tying in Lucas would make her more cooperative.