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Not your problem.
Why was he so worried about her? He didn’t know her. He didn’t let people get under his skin like this.
And yet he still found himself checking the external camera feed on his phone. It was a live feed, and . . . there she was.
She had a jacket on now at least.
Why do you care if she’s warm or not?
There was no way he was falling for a woman in a gold dress with crazy dance moves.
Never.
But maybe he should just go follow her and make sure she got into a taxi . . .
It was his good deed of the . . . month? Year?
Fuck. Who cared? He was doing it.
* * *
“Well,boys, look what just stumbled into our laps.”
She stumbled as some asshole dragged her into a dark alley, one hand tight around her arm, the other pressed over her mouth.
Fight, Maeve.
Break away. Run.
Right. She’d do that if she had some clue how to fight.
Shit.
All she’d wanted was to go dancing and have some fun. Dancing used to be an outlet for her. A way to shake off all her fears. But she hadn’t been out dancing for a year.
And look what happened the first time she did. She got dragged into a dark alley by some asshole.
Not cool.
She tried to speak behind the hand over her mouth.
“What?” he asked.
“Hmmbihodigh.”
Finally, he dropped his hand away.
“Thank you.”
It was always good to use your manners, right? Couldn’t hurt . . . maybe these guys weren’t that bad.
“Hi, that’s a really lovely, uh, haircut you have,” she said.
Maybe. She couldn’t really see much about the way he looked in this light.
“Shut up, bitch.”
Wow.
