Perfume Ch. 03

"I want to see your face before I fuck you up," he said darkly.

He made good on his word.

Eric swung his fists, battering Rob's face.

When he doubled over in pain, Eric pushed Rob backward with his foot, sending him sliding across the marble floor.

He charged after Rob and would've continued his assault, but was distracted when he heard feminine screaming behind him.

Unfortunately for Eric, he didn't turn quickly enough to see the figure lunging at him.

He could not avoid the blinding pain as the butt of the gun connected to his skull.

Eric slumped to the floor motionless.

***

When he came to, Eric tried to open his eyes, but immediately recoiled from the explosion of pain in his head.

"Shit!" he groaned.

"Shh...don't try to move," a soft voice said to him.

He tried to open his eyes and saw nothing but blue and red lights swarming before his face.

"Fuck, I'm blind!" he bellowed.

The voice giggled.

"No, you're not blind. Maybe seeing stars from that blow you took, but not blind," she reassured.

Everything came rushing back to Eric...the bank robbery, his brothers, his effort to beat the shit out of Rob.

Gradually Eric became aware of that same perfume from earlier.

Her...

He opened his eyes a crack to confirm what he already knew.

She was the one who had been speaking to him. Her voice had been soft, smooth and melodic.

He wondered...

"Do you sing?" he asked, venturing to open his eyes fully.

"Wha--uh, yeah...I dabble here and there. Why do you ask?" She was clearly flustered.

"You have one of those voices—really smooth...kinda husky. It's sexy," he said.

"Wow. Are you really trying to hit on me with that big goose egg on your head?" she asked teasingly.

"Is it that bad?" he asked as he gingerly touched the huge knot on his forehead.

"Yeah, sorry, but...I'm not sure if that pretty face will make it," she quipped.

Eric's deep voice rumbled with laughter. He immediately regretted it, clenching his teeth from the pain.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I won't do that again. I promise," she apologized as he groaned.

"Nah, it's alright. It was funny. Beauty and a sense of humor...you don't see that every day," he said softly, his gaze focusing on her lovely face.

Eric knew he was staring but he didn't care. As a matter of fact, he wanted her to know how much she affected him.

Wynston blushed prettily, taken aback by the intensity in his green eyes.

"Thank you," she said shyly.

The butterflies in her belly were fluttering wildly. He made her so nervous!

Her expression turned serious.

"Listen, I really want to thank you for saving my life like...ALL day today. I don't know how I could ever repay you," she said quietly.

"Well, shit...I can tell you now how you can thank me," Eric said.

His beauty tossed back her head and let out a lusty laugh.

People looked in their direction, so she covered her mouth and immediately quieted down.

He liked to hear her laugh and would probably make an ass of himself from this point forward just to hear it again.

"I have a question, though," he said.

She looked at him inquisitively.

"Shoot," she said.

"A pipe?" he asked, looking at her sideways.

Again, his companion dissolved into laughter.

Yeah, he could definitely get used to hearing her laugh.

"Hey it was all I could find on such short notice," she was saying. "And besides, it worked. I think that guy's handicapped now."

Eric shrugged. "I had to get the gun out of his hand. I knew if I could do that, I could take him."

The woman had grown quiet and now looked uncomfortable.

Shit...he had scared her.

He hated that she'd witnessed that other side of him...the side where he got so angry, his behavior bordered on irrational.

When Rob had said those obscene things about her, Eric wasn't about to let that ride. Now she was looking at him as if he was a murderer.

It was important to him that she knew he would never hurt her.

"What you saw earlier was a small glimpse into a lifelong hostility between my brother and me," he began.

"If you'll let me, later I want to give you the full story, because I believe it will be important for you to understand. If I know my brothers, this isn't over. In the meantime, just know that you don't have anything to fear from me. I don't know why, but I feel like I'd do anything to protect you," he said frankly.

Wynston was floored.

"But you don't even know me," she said.

Eric grinned, showing even, white teeth.

"I've been trying to tell myself that all day," he said.

Wynston watched Eric as he reclined easily on the stretcher. The paramedics had taken off his jacket and tie; and now he sat with his shirt opened slightly, sleeves rolled up.

The white, crispness of his shirt contrasted sharply with his swarthy skin.

He reminded her of a Calvin Klein ad.

She had joked about his appearance earlier, but the truth was the big wound on his head did nothing whatsoever to detract from his sex appeal. If anything, it made him seem dangerous.

The man was just tantalizing...plain and simple.

Something told her he was probably used to women falling at his feet in droves.

As he lounged there as if the events of the day hadn't taken place, she now knew Eric was not as mild or harmless as he seemed.

She had witnessed the other, powerful side of him; and she knew that under the right circumstances, he could be volatile.

But she knew without a doubt that he wouldn't hurt her.

Wynston always relied heavily on her instincts; and they told her that he was good...why else had he protected her the way he had?

When his brother had opened the closet door and discovered them, Eric had transformed into a different person. Gone was the gentle man who had held her and reassured her.

He had not cowered, but had acted forcefully and effectively.

Wynston had been scared witless and was angry when the brother had said such nasty things about her.

She had stood behind Eric, silently cheering him on...until one of the other bastards came back from the lobby and cold-clocked him.

Very spineless, she thought.

Wynston had tried to warn Eric but the other thief had been too quick. If she had been able to, she would have beaten the crap out of that guy herself.

But they had made it out safely, and she owed it all to Eric.

"Oddly enough, I trust you," she told him softly.

Eric nodded his approval. He was very satisfied with her answer.

***

He reluctantly pulled his eyes away from her to take in his surroundings. As he looked around, the scene reminded him of something from "Law and Order."

There were police cars, fire trucks and ambulances everywhere...which accounted for the blue and red he saw a few moments ago when he thought that he'd been blind.

Really smooth, he thought, wryly.

Officers were all over the place talking to bank employees and customers. News vans and reporters peppered the street, interviewing victims and law officials.

He and his companion were at the back of an ambulance; he was lying on a stretcher, and she was sitting on the back of the vehicle beside him.

"What's your name?" he asked suddenly.

"Oh, I'm sorry! With everything that happened, I forgot to introduce myself," she explained.

"Wynston at your service," she joked.

Eric wanted her to service him alright. "Wynston," he said, experimenting with the name on his tongue.

"Wynston...very unusual. What's the story behind it?" he asked.

"There's no story or anything. My great-grandmother's name was Wynston and my mom named me after her. That's all," she said with a shrug.

"I like it, Wynston. So what happened after I got knocked out?" he asked.

"Well, after you went Sugar Shane Mosley on your brother, another guy snuck up on you like a punk and hit you with the butt of his gun," she began.

"Then, all hell broke loose because your brother wanted to finish you off, but the cops were coming...the cops you called. So the other robbers dragged your brother out along with that teller—who I believe was an accomplice," she continued.

Rob's brow furrowed. "Why do you say that?" he asked.

"Because while you were fighting, the teller was saying stuff like, 'Get up baby!' 'Fuck him up, baby!'" Wynston said.

"I assumed she wasn't talking to you. And when they ran out of the bank, she left with them," she finished.

"Son of a bitch," Eric muttered. And he had felt sorry for her.

"There's one more thing...they said this isn't over and that they're coming for the both of us," she finished grimly.

Eric shook his head. "Figures," he sighed.

"How long have I been out?" he thought to ask.

"About an hour. That guy really walloped you something fierce," she said.

Wynston had a few questions of her own; but before she could ask, they were interrupted by the detective she had spoken with earlier.

***

Detective Anthony Mowry was a distinguished-looking Black man in his late-40s. He was of average height and a little on the stocky side, which he owed to his love of good food.

He was dedicated to solving crimes and had been on the force for twenty years...ten of which he had spent trying to connect the Torres brothers with bank robberies around the city.

"Mr. Torres, glad to have you back with us," he said, extending his hand to Eric.

As Eric shook his hand, he dreaded the imminent line of questioning the detective would fire at him. It didn't matter how much he disliked his brothers, he wasn't a snitch.

"Detective Mowry," he said introducing himself. "Looks like the perps got you pretty good there," the detective said, motioning to the swelling on Eric's head.

"Yeah, but you should see the other guy's face," Eric replied lazily.

He already didn't like this detective.

"We heard about your heroics, Mr. Torres," Detective Mowry began.

"You're a bit of a hero around here...although, I don't know if what you did was brave or foolish. You could've gotten hurt worse than you did, even shot or killed. What made you feel like you could take the robbers on like that?" he asked, thinly veiling his accusation.

Eric simply stared at the detective.

Wynston looked back and forth between the two men. When Eric didn't say anything, she spoke up, coming to his defense.

"Really, Detective Mowry, are you accusing him of something? As I've already told you, he saved my life multiple times today, as well as everyone else in that bank. If not for Mr. Torres's quick thinking, who knows what would've happened?" she said bewildered at Mowry's accusatory tone.

He held up his hands, not wanting to offend her.

Damn, she was pretty.

"Ms. Hughes-Grey, these are just routine questions I have to ask. I'm not trying to upset anyone," he said quickly.

"You know what? You've been through a lot today. Let the medics look you over to make sure everything is alright. If you remember anything, please give me a call," he said reassuringly as he handed her another one of his cards.

Eric's eyes narrowed. He hadn't missed the way the detective had gone all gentle when he'd looked at Wynston.

He didn't like that shit one bit.

"Mr. Torres, they'll probably want to take a look at that injury down at the hospital and check for a concussion. I'll get your statement then," the detective said.

The two men eyed one another squarely, their dislike of each other mutual.

When Eric didn't bother to respond, the detective handed him one of his cards and walked away.

***

"That went well," Wynston said dryly as Eric rested his head on the gurney.

Suddenly he lifted his head again.

"Wait...Hughes-Grey? Does that mean you're married??" he asked incredulously.

Wynston looked confused, and then she smiled.

"Uhhh...no. I'm not married," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"Hughes is my mother's maiden name and Grey is my dad's last name," she explained.

Struggling to rein in his emotions, Eric couldn't believe how relieved he felt.

He'd been with countless women, but none of them had ever made him feel all twisted up like this; and his game...it was nonexistent.

He still had one more question, though.

"So...you're not married. Is there anyone who would be concerned about you? A boyfriend, maybe?" he asked, raising a thick, dark brow.

Eric was sure he had played that one cool.

Wynston pursed her lips and tried not to laugh. He SO was not playing it cool. But she was absolutely delighted that this yummy, Puerto Rican Adonis was checking for her.

"No, I'm not with anyone, Eric," she said softly, her big, expressive eyes earnest.

He looked at her, his now-green eyes smoldering. Her words had put him out of his misery, and had been as good as an invitation.

Eric hoped Wynston understood what she'd just said to him; because he wanted her, and he was going to have her.

As they gazed at each other soulfully, something in their universe shifted. No one else existed but the two.

The events of the day-no, FATE had brought them together.

They continued to look at each other deeply, not knowing what the future held.

But what they did know was that after today, nothing would ever be the same.