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I pull my gun out, aim it skillfully at Lenny’s head, and pull the trigger, letting the bang echo loudly in the cramped space.
Relief floods my system as he starts to slide down her body to the ground in a dead heap, but the anger quickly resurfaces when I see her covered in his blood. She’s too pure to be dressed in red.
I study her face to make sure she’s okay and realise how reckless I’ve been. She’s probably never seen a dead man, let alone someone getting shot in front of her and then being covered in his blood.
Her eyes widen as she looks down at herself and the body at her feet. And when her eyes lift and trail over the gun I’m still holding out in front of her and her eyes meet mine, she screams.
Lord have mercy—it’s the most beautiful but painful sound I’ve ever heard.
He moves faster than lightning, putting his gun away and jumping behind me, his large hand covering my mouth to muffle my scream, his other hand resting on my hip to keep me in place.
I couldn’t move even if I wanted to—and I’m not sure I want to, which says a lot about me.
“Shh.” I can hear him whispering in my ear and my eyes widen again in horror. Who is this psychopath and how have I ended up in this situation twice tonight?
I fidget in his arms, trying to get out of his grasp, but he presses down harder on my mouth, pulling my head back against his chest. His grip on my hip gets tighter and I can feel his fingers pulsing every time he grips a little harder.
I look ahead into the dark alleyway, searching for someone to help, when his lips land next to my ear.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says softly and the tension in my body loosens slightly at his velvety voice, even though I have no reason to believe him. He literally just shot someone. “If I take my hand away, are you going to scream again?”
I contemplate his question for a few seconds before deciding on my answer and I gently shake my head.
His hand disappears from my mouth and I take a deep breath in, keeping my gaze straight ahead. Neither of us moves. He’s still very close behind my back and his fingers are still gripping my hip, but we just stand like that for a short moment.
I shuffle and look down, remembering the dead body at my feet, and I stumble away from it.
In my rush to get away, I trip over myself, but before I can land on my arse, I’m lifted off the ground, suspended in the air like a bird. I’m dangling awkwardly, lifted at the hips by the strong man behind me, almost like he doesn’t know what to do with me.
Starting to feel uncomfortable, I clear my throat.
“Umm, I’m okay,” I say in a quiet voice, feeling absolutely useless. “Can you put me down, please?”
It takes him a few seconds, but he steps back and places me on the ground, turning me at the same time so I’m facing him. He looks me up and down, taking in my blood-soaked appearance, and I cringe.
The door to the club opens and I jump into the man instinctively and his hand finds my hip once more.
Sophie bolts out the door and scans the scene outside her bar, looking down at the dead body, at the man behind and then at me.
“I asked for no trouble,” Sophie says calmly, scanning her eyes around the scene once more then pointing to me. “You’re out.”
“But I—” I start, but the man who saved me steps in front, shielding me.
“She didn’t do anything, Soph.”
I listen to his deep voice and look up at him almost in awe that he’s defending me without even knowing who I am.
“So she isn’t the reason there’s a dead man outside my bar whilst she wears his blood?” she asks, cocking her brow up.
She’s so calm, considering the circumstances. Does this happen at her club often?
“Lenny assaulted her, Soph,”
My stomach twists at the nickname he uses for her again and I realise they must know each other well.
She sighs and looks at me with sorrow in her eyes but remains silent, not taking back her words.
“Sophie,” the man says again, his tone pleading, and Sophie lifts both hands in the air in exasperation and looks back at me.
