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A sharp scream emanated from the alley before it was cut short.
Another set of sprinting footsteps, and I caught a glimpse of a second shadowy form running away from the fight.
I tried to stand, but I couldn’t seem to move; my muscles were locked up tight, frozen in place. For a few fleeting seconds, all I could hear was a tinny ringing in my ears and the heavy, sawing sound of my gasping breaths.
Deep in my bones, I knew who’d fought off the man who’d tried to kill me. I’d recognized that massive, shadowy form, even from behind. The streetlights had shined on the glossy black curls that I’d just been dreaming about.
I heaved out a relieved breath when he appeared at the mouth of the alley, stunning blue eyes piercing the darkness to find mine. My thoughts were scrambled, disjointed. Everything was too much to process: George’s traitorous conversation, having a gun trained on my heart, and the swift, brutal fight that’d saved me.
George. Where was he?
The alley was silent behind my savior. Someone had screamed…
“George.” I managed to squeak his name as I struggled to stand, but I couldn’t get my shaking legs to support me.
My savior’s eyes narrowed, his square jaw ticking. “He ran.”
Before I could tumble back to the ground, strong arms closed around me, lifting me as though I weighed nothing. The scent of leather and amber enfolded me, and I found myself tucked close against his broad chest.
“What are you doing?” I gasped, but I didn’t struggle. I trusted this dark stranger who’d just saved my life.
I couldn’t untangle my thoughts to wonder how he was here at the right time. The vague notion that he might work with the DEA flitted around the edges of my mind—he had been at the bar, after all—but fear still drenched my senses, sapping my ability to think clearly.
“I’m getting you out of here,” he rumbled in reply. “They might have friends nearby.”
He carried me across the street in a few long, sure strides. A motorcycle waited at the curb, and he carefully set me down so that I was straddling the seat. A helmet lowered over my head.
I didn’t protest. My heart still slammed against my ribcage, everything in me driving me to flight. My trembling limbs wouldn’t cooperate; I couldn’t run away. So, I allowed the stranger to help me. He’d protected me twice now. He’d jumped in front of a bullet for me.
He must work with law enforcement to be so coolheaded in the face of mortal danger. He would take me somewhere safe, probably the police station. George would meet us there. Maybe my instincts were wrong. He might be working undercover.
He ran, the stranger had said.
The sound of those retreating footsteps echoed through my mind, and I shook them away.
George must have pursued the man who’d fled the scene. He wouldn’t just leave me when an armed criminal was threatening my life.
If I’d tried to save her, they would’ve killed me too.
The memory of his awful frown and the cold disapproval in his eyes filled my mind, the terrible moment playing over and over again in a sickening loop. The two men in the alley with him worked for the cartel. One of them had pulled a gun on me, and George had done nothing. I’d recognized his disapproving glower all too well from our tense arguments, but the man who’d so callously stood by while my life was in danger was a stranger to me.
My tangled thoughts consumed me, but my savior didn’t seem afflicted by the same distractions. Once the helmet was secure, he quickly got on the bike, and it roared to life beneath us.
“Hold on to me,” he barked over the sound of the growling engine.
My arms wrapped around him, and my fingers knotted in his soft cotton shirt. I molded my body tightly against his back, clinging to him like he was my lifeline. He tensed as I squeezed his ribs, and his chest rumbled on a low grunt. The half-feral sound was swallowed by the roar of the motorcycle as we sped off into the night.
We wound our way through the city, dodging traffic far too fast on the busier streets. I shut my eyes tight, but the dark stranger seemed calm and confident, his breathing only hitching slightly when we made a particularly jarring swerve. I could feel his heartbeat beneath my clutching hands, and it was strong and steady. The fear that was making my own heart work overtime didn’t seem to affect him, even though he’d been the one to risk his life to save mine. He could’ve been shot when he’d thrown himself into the fight, knocking the gun aside so that the bullet missed me.
And George…
My fiancé hadn’t tried to save me. Where was he now?
He ran.
I swallowed against the acid that burned my throat and tucked myself impossibly closer to my savior. He would take us to safety.
I leaned into the beautiful stranger, instinctively seeking his protection once again.
