Home > The Savior (Four Forces Security)

The Savior (Four Forces Security)
Author: Alexis Winter








“I told you that it’s not like that!”

“Then what is it? What—or who—has you acting like such a bitch, huh? Why do you think you don’t have to listen to me all of a sudden?”

I scoff and turn my back to him, but I’m not nearly as strong as I’m trying to project. My legs are shaking and I can barely keep my keys from slipping between my sweaty palms. I hate it when he’s angry like this. When Mason gets like this, it’s impossible to convince him that he’s wrong.

I hear footsteps behind me and I squeeze my eyes shut as my muscles tense. Mason’s rage-filled voice calls out to me, “I told you I didn’t want you hanging out with those girls!”

He puts his hand on my shoulder and jerks it toward him. Pain shoots through my shoulder and I push his hand off of me. My smaller hands can hardly get the job done, and at the moment, I’m finding myself wishing I had taken my brother Jimmy up on his offer to train me to fight military-style.

I love Mason, but I can’t keep letting him do this to me.

Mason is successful, he comes from a good family, and he’s sexy as hell. He’s everything I want in a guy, and if we could just get past this roadblock that we keep running into—if he would stop being so insecure—we could be a total power couple.


My teeth click together as his hand smacks the back of my head hard. I can’t help the terrified yelp that comes flying out of my mouth. I throw my hand up so I can press it to the back of my head.

I turn to look at Mason and my eyes fall on his wild gaze. His fists are clenched and he’s shaking with rage. His bright blue eyes are focused on me, but just past his shoulder, I can see my neighbor, Lucinda, running into the parking lot.

Lucinda pulls her bright pink robe tighter around her waist. She hollers, “Hey! What the hell is going on here?”

Mason whips his head around and I feel a wave of relief flow through me for a moment.

“Don’t worry about it; this is between us!” he shouts.

Lucinda frowns and reaches into her pocket. She fishes around and pulls out her cell phone. “I saw you hit her! I’m calling the police!”

Mason takes a few steps toward her. “You don’t want to do that. My family is very powerful.”

Mason goes out of his way to remind everyone how powerful his family is. In his world, he’s untouchable.

Lucinda holds her hand up to silence him. “Stop! Hello? 911? Yes, my neighbor is being attacked by her boyfriend—”

I throw my hands up in the air. “No, wait, please! It’s just a misunderstanding! We’re having a fight!” I rush forward and press my hands into Mason’s arm. “We’re fine!”

It doesn’t make a difference. Now the evening I could have spent relaxing after going out with the girls is probably going to be spent bailing Mason out of jail. I know that most women would leave him there, letting him stew overnight, but I can’t do that to him. We’ve been through too much together.

Mason gets into a screaming match with Lucinda, and they hurl insults back and forth. His face is tomato red as he screams, “You’ll be homeless by the time I’m done with you! You don’t want to make an enemy out of me, bitch!”

A police cruiser pulls into the parking lot and slows to a stop just in front of us. A 6’ police officer steps out of the car, with his fingers hooked in his belt loops. He strides over to us. “Is there a problem?”

Lucinda jerks a thumb at Mason. “I saw him bash her across the back of the head!”

Reflexively, my hand goes up and brushes against my tender scalp. The police officer narrows his eyes and glances between Mason and me.

Mason crosses his arms over his chest. “This woman has no idea what she’s talking about. My girlfriend and I are just having a dispute,” he turns to me, “right, babe?”

My heartbeat goes into overdrive as I look at Mason then the police officer. The officer purses his lips and turns his head to one side.


My head hurts and my chest aches. I take a deep breath and try to exhale, but it comes out as a long, shuddering sound.

The police officer reaches to his belt and pulls out his handcuffs. “Okay, at the very least, you guys could use some space. Let’s get going, buddy.”

“Are you insane? Do you know who I am?”

The cop shakes his head. “Pfft. You’re an asshole who’s about to spend the night in jail. Let’s go.”

Mason stands still as the cop walks up to him and opens the handcuffs. The look Mason gives me sends daggers of fear sliding through my chest. The cop nods at me as he walks Mason over to the car.

Lucinda rushes over to me and wraps me in her arms. “Oh, honey, I can’t believe you would let him do that to you,” she smooths my hair, gliding her fingers across what I know is going to be a nasty bruise. “You deserve so much more than that.”

I frown as I bury my face in her shoulder. Lucinda is usually a little batty, spending her time with some cats and a few friends. I’ve never seen her bring a man home, so what would she know about what I’m doing? We’re going to be fine; I’m not letting Mason do anything to me.

Am I?









I step into a light jog up the steps as I make it into one of the least pretentious bars in Manhattan. Most of these places are filled with business types—the kind of men who have never gotten their hands dirty, and probably never will. I’m used to getting more than a few side-eyes when I step into Rico’s. It’s clear I don’t belong.

The smell of expensive perfume floats into my nostrils as a waitress in a tight skirt slides past me and rubs her ass right up against my crotch. Her breasts are front and center, and she’s hoping I’ll steal a glance. After all the time I’ve spent around women while traveling around the world, I’ve learned that when a woman looks at you like that—that shamelessly—she wants to cut the bullshit and jump into bed.

That’s not for me . . . at least not these days.

I had my time with that kind of fun years ago. Now I like to savor the simple things, like a cold glass of beer with one of my best friends.

Jimmy stands up as I walk over to him. He’s seated on a cushy sofa set with a small table in front of him. A tall glass of beer is already sitting on the table, and it looks like he’s already sucked down half of it.

Jimmy smirks as we sit down. The waitress comes over—the same one from before—and says, “See anything you like?”

I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “What?”

She points to the laminated black-and-red menu the size of a postcard. “On the menu, I mean.”

Jimmy’s poorly-stifled chuckle makes things even more awkward. I clear my throat. “I’ll take whatever he’s ordered. Keep them coming.”

She nods then flashes me a nervous smile. “Coming right up.”

Jimmy watches her go, then whistles through his teeth. “Looks like you’ve had an effect on that one.”

“Whatever. I’m used to it.” I sit back against the booth. The waitress scurries over with my beer, then promptly returns to wherever she came from.

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