He reached her, grasped her shoulders. “Are you okay? Talk to me, Charlize, are you hurt?”
She smiled a little maniacally. “See? I can take care of myself.”
“Of course you can,” he whispered and touched her face. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
“No I just feel really funny. Gregory’s outside. I hit him in the windpipe.”
His stared at the door. “Okay, baby, I think you might be in shock.”
The lights brightened and footsteps rushed closer. Bob reached them. “What happened?”
“Gregory’s out there, Charlize seems to be in shock.”
Bob glanced at the exit. “You go after him, I’ll stay with her.”
Connor squeezed her shoulder. “Stay here. I’ll be right back,” he said then sprinted to the exit.
Bob put an arm around her. “Come on—let’s find you somewhere to sit.”
“Connor said stay…” She breathed.
“We’re not going far.”
Her limbs moved, obeying as if in a dream.
Connor exploded into the alley. His gaze flew over every surface but only emptiness greeted him. The drone of cars from the street, the faint tinkle of music only made the silence in the alley more ominous. As if it stood apart from the rest of the world.
He stalked the alley toward the road. Patches of light from the streetlamps turned the area into a matrix of shadows. Connor sidestepped piles of dirt and rubbish. Gregory couldn’t have run far, not with a hit to the windpipe. Connor moved with hardly a shuffle of sound. His body was a mass of adrenaline. It twitched in his muscles, filled him to bursting. Blood, rage, fury and fear drove him. In that moment was he was more animal than man.
He’d tear Gregory apart with his hands, wouldn’t even hesitate. The thought should repel him but all he could see was the delirious, wide gaze of the woman he loved, the woman that creature tried to hurt—twice. Connor slid past a dumpster. The slightly sweet scent of rot coated the air.
A shuffle against metal froze him to the spot. He crouched, listened.
Silence.
Then a soft scrape. He rose beside the dumpster, felt twice his height. A rat? No…his gut told him another kind of rodent hid inside. One that wallowed in filth—one that was made of filth. He put one hand around the dirty rim of the dumpster, a foot against the side and leaped.
His feet landed with a boom against the bottom. A pile of cardboard twitched in the corner. The fucking coward hid in the rubbish.
“I’m only going to say this once—get up or I’ll fucking get you up.” His voice sounded as rough as a broken bottle.
The pile quivered but didn’t rise. So fucking be it.
He plunged his hand through the cardboard until he met the heat of a body. He curled his fingers against fabric and pulled. The round face broke through the surface at the same time as a hand. The glint of steel caught his eye and he heard a click. He moved and in a flash and the gun was his.
He spun the pistol in his hand and shoved it in the back of his pants. Too fucking easy… He’d mastered the art of disarming his opponent by age thirteen, thanks to Judo. He dragged the body to standing. A crackling sound hissed from Gregory’s mouth. His chest heaved, whistling with a screeching sound of air he tried to suck in.
Raw satisfaction curled through Connor. That’s my girl… A hit to throat—exactly as he’d shown her. She’d done a good job too, done damage just as he knew she could. That was the hardest thing to teach a woman, teach any gentle person—to move past the fear of actually causing damage. When they’re attacked, most people don’t even realize how much they hold back in their own defense because of some built-in abhorrence to violence.
But you only get one shot to fight back and you’d better damn well do it as if you’re fighting for your life—if you want to stay alive. He studied the pathetic figure, beaten, cowering in his grip. Gregory didn’t know it yet but Charlize had just saved his life. The murderous thump of Connor’s blood dulled.
So maybe he wouldn’t wring the life out of an injured man but he’d get justice.
Connor discovered it wasn’t as difficult as he’d thought to drag two-hundred-and-fifty pounds of injured asshole out the dumpster or through the building. Adrenaline gave him extra strength. He glanced down the empty hallway, looking for Charlize. She’d most likely snuck off, gone back to doing her thing with her work face on. He’d hoped she’d listen for once and stay put but he should’ve known better. She never gave up or gave in—god love her. He deposited Gregory with security.
They could deal with the scumbag, he needed to find Charlize. He scanned the ballroom, walked around the perimeter, searched out every hint of violet, every flick of dark hair and came up empty. He checked the unoccupied rooms, the fucking ladies’ bathroom—nothing. He called her phone. It rang for slow, agonizing minutes in his ear before going to voicemail. A heavy dread like an anvil dropped straight on his chest. He sprinted back to security then slowed. Smug prick Frank backed away from the office just outside the main function area where Gregory was held.