Tria startled and looked at me, turning quickly on her heel and holding up her keys clenched in her fist. I tilted my head to one side and raised an eyebrow at her. What was she going to do, wave them around at me from the other side of the fence?
“I’m pretty sure that was not meant to take the place of a ride,” I said, nodding toward the keys in her hand.
“You scared the shit out of me!” Tria yelled. She adjusted the mega-monster purse on her shoulder and ran her hand through her hair. “The girl who was driving me got another job. She just walked out today, and there wasn’t anyone else on my shift with a car.”
“So you’re walking down this street again?” I yelled. I slammed my palms into the chain links, making the whole side of metal rattle. She jumped away, stammering.
“I…I…”
I didn’t give her much chance to finish. I was livid.
“After what happened the last time? Seriously, Tria?” I paced over to the edge of the building and back to the fence again. My fingers wrapped around the links and yanked. “You do have a fucking death wish, don’t you?”
“I do not!”
“Then why are you being so stupid?” I screamed. I planted my feet right where they were, and my heart thumped audibly in my chest.
“I was trying to find you!” she yelled back.
“Well, why didn’t you come in the fucking bar?” I tossed my hands up into the air. “Is there not a big ass poster right there in your face saying exactly where I am on Friday nights?”
“I tried,” Tria said with a glare. “The bouncer wouldn’t let me in.”
“Why not?”
“I’m only twenty,” she said with a shrug.
There was something about that news that flipped a switch in my head. I knew she looked young, but I didn’t realize how young. The idea that she was out here on her own, trying to make a go in this place without even being old enough to get into a bar killed my anger and made me feel something a little odd as well. Respect? Maybe even pride?
Whatever it was, it also hardened my dick.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. I turned away from her and ran my hand through my hair, trying to get my dick under control before it made itself known through my shorts. I cringed as my fingers came across the tender spot on the back of my skull. At least the sharp pain killed my erection.
“You’re hurt,” Tria stated. I didn’t look up, but I could hear her hands grasping the links of the fence.
“All part of the job,” I responded. Turning around to look at her again, I could see concern in her eyes. I remembered what my face had looked like in the mirror, and I knew what she was seeing appeared a little crazy. I looked worse than I really was.
“Why?” I heard myself ask as I moved back to the fence that separated us. “Why did you come looking for me?”
She looked away, her neck craning to the side a little as she looked down the street.
“I was hoping…maybe…maybe you could walk me home?” Her voice quavered as she looked back at me. Our eyes met through the links, and my knuckles tightened around the little metal bits between my fingers.
I swallowed once, trying to understand why my heart was still pounding so forcefully in my chest. My appearance right now was probably as frightening as anyone on the street, but she was still asking me for help, just like I had told her to do the week before.
I moved my eyes somewhat involuntarily over her form—slender, young, beautiful, and in need. I ran my tongue over my lips, tasting blood, as these thoughts echoed through my head. My chest rose as I inhaled slowly.
She just looked far too tempting.
Another set of words that described her ran through my head: easy target.
I didn’t like those words so much, not just for me, but for anyone around here. She had no fucking idea what she was doing or how to live in the city—that much was obvious. If she did, she would have told Wade or Gary at the door that she was twenty-one and just forgot her ID. They would have let her in. She also could have pushed her boobs up a bit, and they would have forgotten to ask altogether. Worst case, she could have said she knew me, and they would have allowed her in, too.
And here she was again, hanging out in the back street behind the bar not fifty feet from where a group of guys had been waiting to ambush her a week ago. Granted, she had learned—she was on alert and holding her keys right—but still, her precautions wouldn’t have done much if someone decided they really wanted a piece of her.
And yeah—guys definitely wanted a piece of that.
“Liam?” she said quietly. I focused on the movement of her lips, and images similar to the one Gary had conjured up with his bobbing hands and thrusting hips came to mind. “Would you?”