Page 77 of My Fake Fling

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I turned to see what I was up against. Three guys. Younger than me, but clearly, they were used to this sort of thing. “Gentlemen,” I said.

“We’re going to need you to hand over your wallet,” one of them said.

I was a little surprised by how polite they were. “No thank you.”

They looked at each other. “Hey, asshole, we weren’t really asking you,” another one said. “Give us your fucking wallet.”

“And that watch.” The third one pointed to my wrist.

I looked at my black Rolex. It was my pride and joy. I wore it every day. It was a gift from my father and it never left my wrist unless I was in bed or the shower. “No,” I answered.

One of them pulled a knife. “I don’t think you heard us,” one said.

“I heard you fine, but you are not getting this watch,” I said firmly.

It all happened fast. The tallest guy lunged. I was ready for him and swung, connecting with his jaw. Unfortunately, the other two made it impossible for me to get a leg up. The three of them punched and kicked. I felt myself falling to the ground. I struggled to stay on my feet, but it was futile. Another blow to my jaw nearly knocked me out. I managed to stay conscious, but I went down hard. I pulled my arm under me. There were a few more kicks to my torso with one hitting me in the back of my head.

A horn blared.

“Shit! Let’s go!”

The horn blared again, and the area was flooded with light. With the worst of the attack behind me, I rested my head on the sidewalk and took stock of my injuries.

“Sir, are you okay?” I heard a man ask. “Peggy, call the police!”

I tried to open my eyes, but to my surprise, I felt myself fading. I didn’t know if I had ever passed out before. “Help me up, please,” I muttered.

“You probably shouldn’t move,” he said. “We’ll get an ambulance.”

“I don’t need an ambulance,” I said.

“I don’t think you realize how bad you’re hurt,” he said. “Did they stab you? Are you shot?”

“No, I’m fine,” I insisted.

I sat up and immediately turned my head to puke all over the street.

“Don’t let him up, Don!” the woman yelled from the car.

“I told him not to,” the man argued.

“I need to call someone,” I mumbled. I was dizzy and things were getting very blurry. I tried to reach for my phone, but my arms didn’t want to work. “Can you get my phone? Pocket. Please.”

I felt the man reach into my pocket. I wasn’t even sure if I still had my phone. I hoped like hell I did because I couldn’t remember my birthday let alone a phone number.


Tags: Ali Parker Romance