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Rusty and Clint. “Hey, Rusty, look, I’ve got money. I’ll pay you back. Whatever you think it’s worth.”
    He pushed me out of the way. “I don’t want money. I want my stash.”
    I landed on the couch, twisted a little, so that my weight fell on my arm. I cried out in pain.
    Rusty stepped around the coffee table, got in Clint’s face, and pulled back his fist.
    “Hey, man,” said Clint. “I’m really sorry.” He tried to back away, but the coffee table was in the way.
    Rusty punched Clint.
    Clint howled, doubling in on himself.
    Rusty grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him upright. He punched him again.
    Clint’s nose started bleeding. Gushing really. Maybe it was already screwed up from all the coke he’d been snorting.
    I got up. “Don’t hit him.”
    Rusty rounded on me. “You shut up, you little cunt.”
    I swallowed. “I know you’re mad, and I know we shouldn’t have—”
    He had me by the shoulders, propelling me up against the wall. “I said to shut up.”
    “Stop it,” I said.
    He slammed me up against the wall. “I know your type. You’re nothing but a cheap drug-addled whore, and I can’t believe I actually put my dick in you.”
    My head glanced painfully. I yelled.
    He knocked my head into the wall again. “Thank God I was wearing a condom.”
    Pain bloomed in my skull. “Please,” I whimpered.
    The door flew open. A blur of muscles and denim swept across the room, tackling Rusty.
    When they stopped moving enough that I could make things out, Griffin was on top of Rusty, his hands wrapped around Rusty’s neck. Rusty lay flat on his back. His face was purple.
    Griffin’s face was inches from Rusty. “What the hell is your problem?”
    Rusty’s eyes bulged.
    “You get a charge out of hurting women?”
    Rusty’s tongue protruded from his mouth, blue and swollen.
    Griffin let go of him and stood up. “Don’t ever touch her again.” He turned to look at me. “You okay, doll?”
    I knew that hours ago, I’d been annoyed with him. I knew that I’d thought he was ruining my life and I’d only wanted away from him. But right now, I’d never been so grateful to see anyone in my life. I nodded, tucking hair behind my ears. “I’m okay.” I tried to step away from the wall, but my knees buckled. I felt shaky.
    Griffin was next to me in a second, holding me up. He looked at Clint over his shoulder. “You know, maybe you’re not such a great influence on her.”
    I leaned against Griffin gratefully. He was so solid. It was strange to be close to something as firm as marble, and have it be radiating heat, have it be skin.
    He looked down at me. “You wanna go home?”
    “Yes, please,” I said in a tiny voice.
    He took a step. I tried to take a step too. For some reason, my legs weren’t working. I felt so shaky, and my heart was beating way too fast, probably a combination of the adrenaline and the cocaine. I stumbled.
    Griffin’s arms came under my knees. He picked me up like I was a tiny child and walked out of the apartment with me. It was the second time in a short span of time that I’d been picked up, but I kind of liked it. It made me feel small and safe, and I hadn’t felt that way in a long time.
    He carried me through the moonlight to my car.
    “You took my car without asking?” I said.
    “I said I was going to watch you, doll,” he said. “I had to do what I had to do.”
    I lay my head against his chest. For some reason, when he said it this time, it seemed less suffocating and more comforting.
    * * *
    My knees were shaking. I’d just gotten out of the shower. My hair was wrapped in a towel, and I was wearing my pajamas. The sky was lightening. It was nearly Saturday morning. I sat on my couch. Griffin was lounging against the wall in my kitchen. His gray eyes looked troubled.
    “I can’t have you working against me. What were you thinking?”
    I picked at my pjs. I didn’t answer. I was ashamed.
    “What if that hadn’t been some