Page 42 of Deep (Chicago Underground 8)
“I’m sorry,” I said firmly. “I’m not who you’re looking for.” I moved away, but he tugged me back. I pulled harder. He didn’t let go.
Raw fear clutched my chest.
Oh no. Not now. Not again.
I couldn’t breathe. Air wheezed through the tight knot of my throat, but not enough. The people seemed to close in on me. My vision dimmed.
And still he held on to my wrist.
I batted him away, helpless in this state.
Then suddenly the pressure was gone. There was a wall supporting my back and a clear space in front of me. My breathing resumed—still wheezing, but I could think again. The desperate clawing for survival eased. And my vision cleared.
There was Philip, holding the other guy up against the opposite wall by his neck.
“Did he hurt you?” Philip asked between clenched teeth.
It took me a few seconds to answer. My wrist still felt sore, my lungs tight. But I knew saying yes would mean that someone died tonight. “I’m fine.”
“Apologize.” This to the man in front of him.
“I-I’m sorry,” Donny stuttered. “I didn’t know she was with you.”
Philip’s voice dropped to lethal softness, somehow completely audible over the pounding of the bass. “Apologize to her.”
“I’m sorry. Claire. Or—or—”
“Ella,” Philip supplied.
“I’m sorry, Ella!” A desperate shout, tinged with pain. Philip must have applied pressure.
“You’ll tell everyone that she’s not to be touched.”
“Yes, yes.” He was babbling now, making promises and incoherent sounds.
“And if I find out that you put your hands on her again, I’ll cut them off.”
The quiet authority of the threat chilled me to my core.
“If I find out you spoke to her again, I’ll cut your tongue out of your mouth.” Philip looked him over and must have come to the same conclusion I had. “While you’re sober.”
Donny flinched.
Philip released him, and he sank to the floor. An acrid scent filled the small hallway.
Piss. He had pissed himself. That was how scared he was of Philip.
The man who could inspire such fear took my arm—gently—and led me out a back entrance. There was a guard just inside the door, but he didn’t object to us leaving. He nodded at Philip—not with the kind of familiarity that male friends have, but with respect.
Philip waited until we were in the alley before turning on me. “What the fuck?”
“I thought I saw Tyler.” After all that, I was doubting myself. “He was with a guy, slightly older. He looked…like you, kind of. Black hair.” Lean, without the broad chest and muscles that made Philip so intimidating even if you didn’t know his reputation.
Philip gave me an odd look. On anyone else it would have been uncertainty. “You were mistaken.”
“How do you know?” And why was he so invested in me being wrong about this? But I leaned back against the brick, already resigned to it. It felt like a dream now. “Shit.”
“It happens,” Philip said gruffly. “You want something badly enough, you start seeing it.”
