Maybe I should punch him.

“That may be, but I’d feel more comfortable if you left me alone,” I say, like the good cop I am.

Did you learn that in your de-escalation training, Alex?Rowan’s voice pops up in my mind. I shove it away.

“Comfortable?” Sam asks. “I promise I’d make it good for you, too. I just want to know what that pretty mouth feels like around my co—”

“I think he just asked you to walk away,” a familiar voice comes from behind me.

Rowan appears next to me, in all his 6’4 glory. He’s dressed in a black hoodie and dark-wash jeans, and his hair is sticking up in different directions like he’s been running his hands through it. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but again, I’m caught by how he manages to make a simple hoodie look so good.

He tilts his head, assessing Sam with that lazy smile I know he uses to hide how he is truly feeling. Sam might be broader, but Rowan has him in the height department and I doubt he’s a trained killer the way Rowan is. Nerves suddenly jolt inside me.

“Who the fuck are you?” Sam demands, twisting his face.

Rowan lets out a quiet breath, warm air leaving his mouth forming a white cloud. “Why are you still here?” he asks.

Unlike me, Sam is unaffected by Rowan’s presence. He curls his lip instead. “Seriously, man, this has nothing to do with you. Get the hell out of here or you’ll regret it.”

Rowan puts a hand to his heart, scoffing dramatically. “This has everything to do with me.” He glances at me, that affronted look still on his face. “Alex here forgot to mention he belongs to someone. That someone is me and I’m telling you to walk the fuck away before you regret ever looking in his direction.”

My eyes snap open. I may be drunk, but I know I did not just imagine him saying those words. I open my mouth to protest, to tell Sam that I do not belong to anyone, Rowan included, but he’s speaking before I can.

“And if I say no?”

Rowan’s brow lifts and oh fuck, this is going to turn into something it doesn’t need to be. He takes a step forward. “You really want to find out?”

Sam squares his shoulders, gearing up for a fight. This can’t be happening. Sighing quietly, I pull out my badge and hold it out for Sam to see.

“Walk away, Sam,” I tell him. “Unless you want to spend your night in the drunk tank at Senna Central.”

I watch his eyes clear almost immediately. He takes a big step back, his arms raised in surrender. “Shit. I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know.”

If I wasn’t a cop, he would have continued, and God knows what would have happened. I hate that I can’t lock him up somewhere so he can’t harass someone else.

Sam stumbles his way back into the bar, leaving us alone in the quiet street. I turn to Rowan and with the lights emanating from the bars and restaurants around us, I get a good look at him, at just how sober he looks---just how pissed off.

Shit.

I know I should be running in the opposite direction. Honestly, following Sam might be a safer bet than staying here with Rowan, but I stay rooted to where I am, like I always do. “You’re here,” I say quietly. “Why are you here?”

“Aren’t you going to say thank you?” His voice comes out level.

“For what?”

“Saving you from that idiot. Who knows what would have happened if I didn’t show up?”

“He left because I showed him my badge, not because of you,” I point out. “And I can protect myself.”

Rowan stares at me, then turns on his heel without a word, walking in the opposite direction. “Let’s go,” he calls.

I know I shouldn’t follow him. It’s a terrible idea to go anywhere with him, but I still find myself trailing his steps, walking out onto the busy street that is loud with traffic and people, my head swimming with alcohol.

His sleek black Mercedes is parked right outside an electronics store that is alight in bright fluorescent. He comes over to my side, opening the car door without a word. I stare at him and then back at the door he’s holding open for me.

“Are you going to answer me?”

He lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Because I’d hate it if someone else stabbed you before I could.”