Page 79 of The Enemy Protector
I’m not now.
“All this time,” I whisper. “You were the one who came for me.”
For three years I've carried the unanswered question of who he was. Not a fantasy. A haunting. The kind that lives in the back of your throat and never quite leaves. And he's here. He's real.
“I did.”
“And then you disappeared. You didn’t stick around and allow me to thank you.”
“You don’t owe me thanks.”
“I owe you my life,” I snap, the anger suddenly winning out over everything else. “Those men were going to—” I can’t finish the sentence. I never can.
“I know what they were going to do.” His voice is low. Dangerous. “They didn’t. I stopped them.”
My head spins, every piece slamming into place too fast.
“How?” I ask. “How were you there? In that alley, at that exact moment?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. I watch him decide how much to tell me.
“You were at my club,” he says finally.
“Noir?” I blink. “That’s yours?”
“Yes.”
“But I never saw you there. I would have remembered you.”
“You weren’t supposed to see me. I was in the office, reviewing security footage. I saw you on the dance floor. Saw the man approach you. Saw him lead you toward the back exit.”
My stomach turns. “You were watching me.”
“I was watching everyone. That’s what I do. I own the club. I monitor threats. Especially when someone uses a fake ID and puts my liquor license in jeopardy.”
“I was a threat?”
“No.” He moves closer but stops a few feet away. Still giving me space. “You were a liability. A young woman, clearly inexperienced, drinking too much, letting strange men buy you drinks. I flagged you as a potential problem.”
“A problem,” I repeat, the word bitter on my tongue.
“Not like that.” He runs a hand through his hair. He looks flustered. I’ve never seen him look anything but cool and unbothered. “I thought you might get sick. Cause a scene. I had one of my security guys keeping an eye on you to make sure you got home safely.”
“But that’s not what happened.”
“No. When you left with that man, my guard followed. By the time he reported what was happening, I was already moving. I got there before—” He stops. “I got there in time.”
I remember his arms around me. His voice, low and soothing, telling me I was safe. The way he’d covered me with his jacket because my dress was torn.
“You carried me,” I say quietly.
“Yes.”
“You took me to the hospital.”
“Yes.”
“And then you left. I never saw your face. Or maybe I did. I don’t remember. Everything was blurry.”
