Page 7 of Dangerous Men

Grinding my teeth together, I pick a direction and make my way out of the alley and to the next block. The streets are dead, the hour late enough that most people are out drinking or at home in bed. But I don’t see them anywhere.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my town car parked against the curb, my driver Earl perched on the front bumper with a well-worn paperback in his hands. He looks, frowning. “Mister Sterling, sir? Everything okay?”

“Did you see two women go by?” I ask, still looking around for any sign of where they may have gone. “One with pink hair and a leather jacket, and one in a red dress?”

To my relief, he nods. “Yes, sir. They went off that way.”

I take off in the direction he gestures, scanning every alley for a glimpse of them.

Then I see it.

A shape on the ground ahead sprawled across the sidewalk. My pulse quickens, and I break into a run when I recognize the red of her dress.

It’s her.

Her purse lies spilled open on the ground next to her, with her wallet and phone beside it. But nothing appears to be missing.

She’s unconscious, crumpled on the pavement. I crouch beside her, checking for any visible injuries. There’s a scratch on her elbow and a nasty scrape on her knee, but otherwise, she looks unharmed.

Where the fuck is her friend?

Scowling, I shove her things back into her bag and scoop her into my arms, letting her head sag against my shoulder. Her hair smells like coconut. I take a deep breath, savoring it, as I carry her back to my waiting car.

I run into Earl first. I had no idea he was following me. Theolder man is a little winded when he stops, startled by the unconscious woman in my arms. “What happened?” he asks.

“I think she was drugged.” The words come out with a sharp edge of panic.

Earl steps closer, placing a steady hand on her forehead. Then he takes her wrist to check her pulse. He might not have a full medical degree like Sebastian, but he served his time as a medic overseas, and he knows his shit. Nestled in my arms, she murmurs something as he touches her, her words muffled, and a possessive surge flares in me. I have to fight not to pull her away from his touch.

Earl lowers her arm carefully. The heavy look in his eyes is all the confirmation I need.

What if I hadn’t gone after her? What if someone else had found her like this?

Something dark and violent rises inside me at the thought. I think I’ll give those men waiting in Tony’s backroom to Viper after all.

She stirs in my arms, her face pressing into my chest, breath warm against my shirt. I should call someone. I should get her to a hospital. My fingers flex around her, and I open my mouth, ready to order Earl to call Sebastian and get him down here to examine her.

But something stops me.

Some fucked-up, possessive part of me doesn’t want him here. I want to be the one to save her, I realize. For once in my life, I want to be the hero.

“Bring the car around,” I say instead. “We need to get her home.”

Earl doesn’t question why I’m bothering to help her. He nods once before taking off and is back with the car in barely any time at all.

I open the door and set her down gently in the spacious back seat before circling to the other side to climb in beside her.

As we pull away from the curb, she stirs again, a soft sound escaping her lips.

“Hey,” I say quietly, leaning closer. “You doing okay, Red?”

She doesn’t answer. My gaze drifts over her face, taking in every detail before dropping lower to where she’s almost spilling out of the top of her dress. It’s difficult to pull my eyes away.

“Where to, boss?” Earl’s voice cuts through the silence from the front seat.

Where indeed? I open her bag and pick through her belongings until I find her driver’s license.

Sydney Sinclair. In her ID photo, she’s smiling. Happy.