Little Lamb, Part 1

Sexy man on motorcycle

Here is your weekly Friday Flash Fiction!

As will ALL Flash Fiction, this story is RAW and UNEDITED!  For those of you who are new, I write these in one attempt, not changing for editing any portion of the content.  The idea is to tell a short story in 2000 words or less. 

I hope you enjoy the first installment of, “Little Lamb”

Little Lamb, Part 1


I’d seen her many times, walking from campus as I took my lunch break.  The girl with the beautiful blonde hair smiled every day that I drove by on my motorcycle.  A good girl like that had no business making sexy eyes at a guy like me.  I wasn’t worthy of her beauty.  I was the bad boy, the guy your momma warned you about, sugar. 

But, here I was, making sure I drove by that same spot at lunch time, every day of the week not because I had to, but because I wanted to catch a glimpse of my blonde beauty.  At exactly, 11:07 every afternoon.  She would be leaving class and heading to her car.  Some days, she’d be standing at the corner, waiting on the light to turn, so she could scurry across the road.  Other days, she’d be walking with her friends down the sidewalk, heading in the same direction.

God, I was no better than a fucking pedophile praying on small children.  I lived a mean life, not a privileged one like her.  I was bald, tall, and muscular, where she was small and soft.  Her skin glowed, whereas mine was covered in ink, staking my claim on the streets as the man not to cross.  No, she wouldn’t touch me for anything more than a walk on the wild side.  I was not worthy.  She was as innocent as a little lamb.

Today was different.  I’d left the mechanic shop I worked at, heading to the deli. It was Wednesday.  As I approached the campus, my blood heated, anticipation making my hands sweat.  I was like Pavlov’s dog. I knew the reward that was coming, every time I cranked up the bike at eleven in the afternoon.  I’m surprised drool didn’t come out of my mouth.

Turning the corner on Fifth, my heart picked up speed just as my bike.  She should be coming into view, but she wasn’t there.  I sighed heavily.  She may already be at the light waiting to cross.

“Chill the fuck out, Cannon,” I barked at myself. 

The closer I got to the light, the tenser I became.  She wasn’t there.  My little lamb wasn’t walking with her friends on the sidewalk.  She wasn’t standing at the light.  Little Lamb has not missed a day in several weeks.  I’d seen her almost every day except that one day that she was obviously sick.  The next day, I saw her, but it was obvious that she wasn’t feeling well.  She’d worn a long-sleeved sweater and big sunglasses, even though the temps outside were too high for all of those clothes.  In the days that followed, the bigger, bulker clothes became less and less.  By the end of the week, my little lamb was back to herself, wearing her normal tight jeans and cute little school inspired shirts. 

Where is she! My subconscious growled in my head.  My mind clicked over…and over.  Something wasn’t right.  No, it wasn’t.

I turned at the light that she used to cross the street.  I doubled back around the campus, hoping she was just late leaving class.  College students scurried across the pedestrian crosswalk I was required to stop at, by law, but I didn’t give a fuck about them.  Let them stare at the big bad biker that’s trolling though their sparkly, shiny, rich life.  Fuck those punks.  I just want to know where little lamb is.

I’d made the block twice, when I caught a glimpse of blonde hair, billowing out from the side of a building.  My heart froze in my chest when I saw little lamb there.  Some mother fucker had her pinned to the wall, his forearm pressed against her throat, his hand was in her pants.

I slammed on the brakes, almost losing control of my Harley as I parked the thing on the grass.  My vision turned to red, the Glock at my back burned into my skin.  I wouldn’t pull it out yet.  No, not yet.  I didn’t want to do anything that would notify anyone to call the cops.  I wanted to deal out justice to this fucker myself.

Please,” she cried.  “Please stop.”

She wasn’t fighting him.  Why the hell was she not fighting him? 

On a growl, I launched myself at the asshole, knocking him out of his expensive ass designer shoes.  The guy was big, but not as big as myself. 

“What the fuck are you doing to her,” I growled, his shirt bunched up in my fists.  “She told you to stop!”  I punched him once, twice, a third time and little lamb didn’t beg me to stop.  She slumped down onto the hard packed ground, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“Did you want him to do that to you,” I growled at her.  Those blue eyes, I’d come to dream about at night, welled up with tears.  She was frozen, in shock.  “Did you?”

“No,” her voice was small, so small.  Just like little lamb.  She was a tiny thing.  I bet she didn’t weight a hundred pounds, soaking wet and holding weights. 

“She said ‘no,” I growled in the punks face.  “Did you not hear her? Because I fucking heard her from my fucking bike.”

The pussy didn’t fight, didn’t make up an excuse or even blame little lamb.  No, the bully laid there, praying not to damage his face.  Which was the wrong thing to say to me.  I punched him, making sure that he wouldn’t be seeing out of those eyes, or breathing out of that nose, for at least a month, maybe more.

“Come on, little lamb,” I said to her after her attacker had been knocked completely out.  I placed a boot to his ribs for good measure when I was finished with his face.

“I’m s…sorry,” she cried.  “Thank y…you.”

“It’s okay.  I got you,” I said, scooping her up into my arms.  “Think you can hold on to me?  I’m going to get you some coffee and clean you up.”  She was covered in dirt, there was blood on the corner of her mouth, and her eye was starting to swell.  The bastard had beat on her before trying to touch what was mine. Mine?  Where the hell did that come from?

“Yes,” she breathed.  “Please tell me your name.”

“Cannon,” I bit out.

“Cannon,” she whispered, testing my name on her tongue.  I almost lost my balance as my knees gave out from the sound coming from her beautiful lips.  As I carried her, I shifted her slightly so that I could wipe the blood off of her lip.  When I wrapped that arm back around her waist, she gasped, flinching in pain.  “What is it little lamb?” 

“My ribs,” she cried, before tucking her face into my chest, trying to bury herself into my jacket. 

“This time, or before,” I demanded.  It all made sense now.  The overly big clothes, those stupid glasses.  This wasn’t the first time.

“This weekend,” she admitted. 

“He won’t touch you again,” I promised.  “Never again, little lamb.  Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” she muttered into my shirt.  Our conversation was finished when we climbed on the bike.  I handed her my helmet and let her put it on.  I didn’t want to touch her face, not yet.  It was starting to swell.  If I touched her face and she pulled away from me, I’d go back and kill the son of a bitch.

As she adjusted the helmet, I called the shop. My brother answered on the first ring, “Cannon.  What’s up?”

“Taking the afternoon off.  Something’s come up,” I growled into the phone as I helped little lamb on my bike.

“What is it,” Edgar replied.  His voice told he was on alert.  I never took time off at the shop.  Never.

“Little lamb was hurt,” I whispered into the phone.  He knew her.  He knew my infatuation for her.  He also knew that I was stepping over a boundary that I shouldn’t cross.

“Cannon,” he growled.  “You can’t.”

“Oh, I can, and I did,” I admitted into the phone.  “No more.  I’m taking her to my place.”

“God Dammit! Can…,” he shouted into the phone, but I cut him off before he could say more.

The ride over to my apartment was quick.  She held on like she should.  Those tiny arms held tightly around my waist, her face pressed into the back of my leather jacket. 

Once we arrived at my place, I helped her off of the bike and scooped her into my arms. She weighed no more than a feather.  “Little lamb, do you not eat?”

“No,” she frowned.  “Are you one of my dad’s men?”

I froze halfway up the steps to my apartment.  How did she know?  She wasn’t supposed to know.  We were to have no contact with her.  It was just a job.  To watch the President’s daughter.  “Fuck,” I growled. 

I should’ve know that the daughter to the MC prez wouldn’t be stupid.  She’d grown up in that life, but now she wanted to go to college away from them.  As a nomad, I was asked to keep an eye on her.  Just check on her to make sure she was okay.  Once or twice a day, that was it.  But I became addicted to her.  The tiny, little lamb that I was in charge with protecting had been getting beat up, and violated, under my watch.

“You guys don’t hide very well,” she giggled.

“Are you laughing,” I gaped at her tiny body in my arms.

“Cannon,” she sighed as I carried her over the threshold of my place.  It wasn’t much, just a one bedroom apartment in the crappy part of town.  It wasn’t far from the campus, and it was only fifteen minutes to the shop.  I liked my place.  No one every messed with my bike.  That was all I really cared about. 

“Yes, little lamb,” I replied as I set her down on my couch.  It was knew.  I didn’t live in filth.  I just liked to live a simpler life. 

“Why don’t you use my real name?”

“Ok, Katerina,” I raised a brow.  “No, it doesn’t fit you.  I’ll stick with little lamb.”

“Are you going to tell my father,” she asked, worry etched in her brow.

“You know I have to,” I sighed.  “I need to get you patched up first.”

“Please, Cannon,” she cried, fisting my shirt.  “Don’t!”

“I have to tell him, little lamb,” I growled.  “You’re going to tell me who that guy is and then my friends and I are going to pay him a visit tonight.”

“Oh, Cannon,” she sighed.  Suddenly, her mind seemed to drift.  The tremors started in her hands, and before I could make the five steps across the living room, my little lamb had gone into full blown shock.

“Shhh,” I whispered in her ear as I rocked her in my arms.  “I’ve got you.”

“C…cold,” she shivered.  I pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped us both.  Her cold hand pressed to my chest, eliciting a shiver of my own. 

“Alright little lamb,” I began.  This could go either way.  “Name.  I want his name.”

“Alex Newman,” she said, once the shock had started to wear off, but I wasn’t done with questions.

“How long,” I asked.

“Cannon,” she warned.

“Right now is not the time to fuck with me, little lamb.  My temper is set to boil and it’s getting hotter by the minute.  Each bruise on your face is swelling, and I can’t take it much longer.  Tell me!”  She peered up at me, her blue eyes looking into my own blue eyes.  Ocean to ocean.  Although, she was heaven to my hell.

I would keep her safe.  Newman would pay for what he did to my little lamb.  Tonight while she slept, justice would be dealt out.  The cards were not in this man’s favor.

“How long?”

“Six months,” she whispered.

All of the blood drained from my face.  This had been going on since before I was sent to watch little lamb.  Did her father know what was going on already?

 To Be Continued……

About Author Theresa Hissong

International Best Selling Author of Contemporary & Paranormal Romance.
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