A few of her girls were getting dressed for the next number as Fallon left the hallway and entered into the backstage dressing area. They regarded her with wary eyes as she passed them, her follower close behind. Yes, this was completely out of her character—everything was completely out of her character tonight. But her girls knew her. She didn’t allow random men—or any men for that matter, aside from George—backstage. It was another one of her strictly enforced rules, and another one that she was breaking for this man.
She paused in front of Naomi. “Finish the lineup. I’m leaving for the night.”
“What? Are you okay? Who’s he and—?”
“I’m fine. Tell Jade to close up with George.”
Naomi glanced around, then narrowed her eyes at the man who was standing behind Fallon. “Okay, boss.”
Shoving the sturdy door open, Fallon stepped outside, the cool air nipping her exposed skin. Her gaze caught his as he narrowed the space between them. She didn’t get distracted while she danced; she didn’t break up fights or bring men backstage. And she sure as hell didn’t lead them out the back door to her car.
• • •
Rafe followed behind this woman, who was moving faster in a pair of heels than he thought physically possible as she clicked down the steps that led to the back parking lot. She fumbled around in her purse, then brought out a set of keys, pushing the unlock button as she circled around a sexy little sports car.
She gracefully slid into the car, her body slinking down into the seat before she shut the door. Rafe stood next to the passenger-side door, looking at his reflection in the tinted window. He looked like complete shit. His shirt was a mess, his hands still scattered with blood. His tie was hanging loosely around his neck and the small cut on the corner of his eye was making a trail of fresh blood down his cheek.
He could only imagine what was going through her mind when she looked at him. Reading her was difficult. One moment she looked like she would convulse on the spot if he even brushed against her; the next she was shoving him out her office door like she couldn’t stand to be in the very room with him.
And he didn’t blame her.
He’d seen the look in a woman’s eyes before when she was afraid of him. He’d heard horror seep from a woman’s mouth in a pleading scream while she witnessed his body giving in to the rage inside him.
That’s why his missions fed him, why combat distracted him. When it came down to it, fighting for someone, including his country, led him down a one-way road with no deviation.
Until her.
Standing there, looking at the dried blood on his hands, he cringed. Not because he regretted it; he never did. But because, for once, someone was able to shift through the debris around him.
Groaning, he balled the towel in his hand and opened the door, throwing his large body into the tight confinements of the passenger seat. He heard her breath catch in her throat. It was subtle, but he heard it.
His eyes shot to hers. She was looking back at him, her brows pulled in tightly, wrinkling the skin between her beautiful champagne-colored eyes.
“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said, almost pleading.
“Who said I was scared of you?” she asked, and her voice was firm, confident. He waited for it, for her shield to lower. But it didn’t.
“What’s your name?” she asked, breaking the silence that had begun to stretch between them.
“Rafe.”
“Rafe? Like ‘safe’ with an ‘R’?”
His head cocked to the side as he looked at her, confused. “Yeah?”
She laughed once. Just one soft little laugh, a giggle almost, and it relaxed him. A fucking giggle relaxed him.
“Safe. Kind of ironic, isn’t it, Rafe?” she asked, starting the car, the engine roaring to life beneath them.
“And your name?”
“Fallon.”
“Well, thank you, Fallon.”
She looked at him, her eyes reflecting tiny little bursts of light from the lamppost in front of them. “For what?”
“For stopping me.” That prick had every ounce of pain coming to him, and Rafe hoped like hell the pain he’d inflicted penetrated deep enough that the man would never put his hands on a woman again. But Rafe was glad she’d stopped him—he’d already experienced what could happen if he didn’t stop.
She smiled a soft, knowing smile and shifted her eyes back to the parking lot in front of her. “You needed a distraction,” she explained. “It’s what I do. Distractions are kind of my specialty. They’re part of the job description.” Her head shifted toward him for a brief moment and she extended her smile a little more. “They just usually don’t include an exit strategy.”