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‘No, please,’ my attacker cries, pushing himself further against the wall.
The suited stranger says nothing, just holds him by his throat against the wall, making the man’s eyes bulge. I can’t move. Dare not, either. But when a faint whimper sinks into my ears, I look down at the woman beside me. She’s restless, her bare legs kicking out, her head rolling. My natural instinct has me on the ground next to her in a heartbeat, with no consideration for strange suited, large men and drugged-up arseholes.
I shush her gently and move in close, feeling so sorry for her when she turns her face into me and nuzzles into my neck, like she’s hiding. Like she’s looking for protection. I don’t know why, but I sense it’s here now. ‘It’s okay,’ I whisper, rubbing her bare arm, feeling how cold she is. I quickly check her pulse and then remove my coat, fighting to get it around her shoulders, focusing on her and not what could be a pretty nasty scene a few feet away. I have no tolerance for men who knock women around. But I also can’t bear violence.
My attention remains on the woman until the sound of a car door shutting pierces the air. The spaced, even beats of shoes hitting the ground fill my ears, almost ominous in their approach. The suited guy is still across the way holding my panicked attacker against the wall, which tells me the footsteps are someone else’s. I wrap my arm around the woman’s shoulders and cast my eyes to the right until they find the car, which I note through my shock is a Bentley. And then my view is suddenly hindered by a pair of trouser-covered legs. Long legs. Thick legs. Strong legs. My eyes slowly start to creep upward, over thighs, a suit-jacket-covered torso, a neck . . .
Until I get to a face.
His piercing blue eyes force me to blink back the shine.
I swallow, inhale, and hold my breath as he looms over me.
He might be wearing a suit, but his strength isn’t concealed. He’s a muscular beast of a man. My mouth falls a little lax on my exhale, my mind unable to comprehend such formidable power. He looks frightening, yet those cobalt eyes hold a softness within them as he stares down at me, his brown hair limp and falling across his forehead. ‘Who are you?’ His deep, rough voice penetrates my skin.
I remain mute, just staring, my mind working hard to try to tell me whether I should be scared.
‘Who. Are. You?’ he demands, sounding menacing.
‘I was walking home from work,’ I rush to explain. ‘And heard . . .’ My words fade when I realize I don’t know the name of the woman in my arms.
‘Penny,’ he prompts, nodding towards the woman. ‘Her name is Penny.’
I swallow nervously, unable to stop my eyes from scanning the pile of muscle and power standing over me. He knows this woman? ‘I heard Penny. She sounded distressed.’
His head cocks in question. ‘And you came to help?’
I frown a little. ‘Yes.’
His stare starts to burn my skin, so intense it makes me want to look away before I turn to dust. He is positively terrifying, yet some primal instinct tells me I’m in no danger. And neither is Penny. The other man, however, most definitely is.
The guy standing over me flicks his gaze to his associate briefly before it lands on Penny for a second, obviously checking her, and then settles back on me. The deep warmth that rests under my skin makes me feel uneasy. He’s a handsome man. I can see it past the harshness of his expression – his bristly jaw tight, his huge body tense. But, God, anyone would have to be certifiably nuts to mess with him. I can’t help taking in as much of him as I can, and there’s a lot of him. It’s all inappropriately impressive. I wonder where my fear and terror have gone. It’s him. His presence, his voice. The second he showed up, I was no longer scared, and that’s just plain weird, since he’s freakishly big and actually quite frightening. But his eyes contradict his terrifying persona.
And then I find myself settling even more when I see the most minuscule curve at the edge of his straight lips. It’s not an evil smile; I’m all too familiar with those. It’s an amused smile, revealing a dimple that’s too cute for him.
Looking back to his associate, he nods, a silent instruction, and the guy holding the pimp in a choke hold starts pushing him on, forcing his arm up his back and kicking his feet to get him moving, ignoring the pleas for mercy. ‘What are you going to do to him?’ I blurt, watching as he’s shoved down the alleyway to constant screams of panic – panic that intensifies when a truck pulls up. He’s thrown into the back, the door shuts calmly, and the truck is pulling away a second later.
