I panted and wrapped my arms around myself. I was saved. This man had saved me from a nightmare. He pressed a large, dark boot to Eric’s throat and raised his face to look at me.

“You okay?”

I nodded, the lump in my throat preventing me from finding my voice.

“You want me to spend some more time with him, or you wanna press charges?”

His gravelly tone made my stomach somersault nervously. I bunched my hands into fists and steeled myself. “Press . . .” I stopped to cough. “Press charges.”

He nodded and pulled Eric up by his hair, knocking his head against a metal fire escape stairway. Eric groaned and crumpled.

“Sorry, my hand slipped,” the man said unapologetically, dragging Eric up and out of the alley.

As soon as we got back inside Six, he shoved Eric into the arms of another burly man and told him to call the police and babysit until they arrived.

He turned to me then and I took him in, holding my torn shirt closed. He was tall and broad, with a bald head and tattoos snaking out from beneath his white t-shirt and up under the collar. His short facial hair was dark.

As I studied him, he did the same to me, his hazel eyes steely. Everything about this man was intimidating. At least, it should have been. What I saw was my savior. The man who’d saved me from a horror that would’ve changed me forever, if I’d survived it.

“You’re . . .” I cleared my throat and tried to ignore the staring onlookers. “Thank you. What’s your name?”

“Kane.”

“Thank you, Kane.”

Tears welled in my eyes and I looked at the floor.

“Come on,” he said, waving a hand and turning. I clutched the two sides of my shirt and followed him through the darkened club. Lights flashed on the people around me raising glasses in drunken celebrations.

Kane went down a long, dimly lit hallway and walked through a door. I hesitated for a second, but followed.

We were in a room with rich, wood paneled walls and a large desk with a single stack of papers on it. It looked like a vacant office.

After he opened a door, Kane pulled out a big flannel shirt and walked my way. He held it out and I just stared at him.

“Take it,” he said gruffly.

I reached out and grabbed it, my other hand still holding my shirt closed.

“Bathroom’s over there,” he said, pointing at another door on the other side of the room.

Silently, I walked over to the bathroom and went in. It was a sanitary white space made of marble and limestone. I slipped the shirt on and buttoned it. It covered me to mid-thigh and hung down past my hands. After I’d rolled up the sleeves, I walked out and saw Kane standing next to the desk. His expression was hard to read, but it seemed uncomfortable.

“Yours?” He held up my cell phone.

I nodded and he brought it to me, also handing over a pen and paper.

“Write down your name and number and I’ll have the cops contact you about a statement. You don’t have to stay since I was a witness. Unless you think you need to go to the hospital, I mean.”

I shook my head. “No, I just want to go home.”

“Can I offer you a ride?”

My mouth hung open as I tried to think of a response. Kane had saved me, and I was beyond grateful, but right now I didn’t want a strange man driving me anywhere. I still felt overly exposed.

“That’s . . . no, you don’t have to . . . I can just catch a cab. You’ve done more than enough already. Thank you again.”

I wrote my contact information on the pad of paper, and when I looked up, Kane was giving me me a wry look that bordered on a smile.

“I didn’t mean me. Our driver will take you home.” He walked over to the door and opened it.

I followed him out a side door to a black SUV. He opened a passenger door and nodded toward the vehicle, encouraging me to get in.

“Lex, take her home, please,” he said, his clipped tone all business.

“Yes sir, Mr. Kane,” a voice called from the driver’s seat.

I climbed in and met his eyes again. “Thanks again, Kane. I mean, Mr. Kane.” I gripped my phone tightly, his unwavering gaze unnerving me. “Thank you.”

He just nodded and closed the door.

“Where to, ma’am?” a friendly man’s voice called from the front seat.

I gave him my address and he headed down the darkened alley. The alley that was now burned into my mind as the place I’d almost lost a piece of myself. And also the place where a strong, compassionate stranger had kept me intact.

Vivian

I STARED OUT THE SMALL window in my office, wishing I had a view of more than a brick wall. Someday I would.

“Where’d you meet this psycho blind date?” my friend and co-worker Cara demanded.

I turned toward her. “Donelle’s husband is in the same fantasy football league as Eric.”

“Nice.” She made no effort to hide her disdain. “Donelle was your college roommate, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, are you gonna call her ass up and tell her what that asshole did? Maybe send some pics of the marks on your throat?” She motioned for me to hand over my cell phone. “I’ll take some for you.”

I fiddled with the gauzy scarf around my neck, trying to cover the marks Eric’s hands had left. My boss had told me to stay home for as long as I needed to recover when I told her about what happened. I’d taken one day–yesterday. But this morning I’d decided I needed to get my mind off things and I’d come in. My client meetings had all been rearranged for next week and I was catching up on paperwork.

“Telling her won’t change anything,” I said. “And I’m tired of talking about it. I had to tell my parents, Susan and you.”

Cara sighed and sat down in the leather chair in front of my desk. “I know. I’m sorry, Viv. I’m just so pissed at that bastard. If I could get my hands on him—”

“Kane gave him a dose of his own medicine,” I said softly, smiling.

“The bouncer from the club, you mean?”

“I think he’s the head bouncer.”

“Was he wearing a nametag or something? How do you know his name?” Cara was giving me the sharp cross-examination that had gotten her hired and then promoted at Glen, Travor and Hobbs, our firm.

“I asked him.”

She steepled her fingers and rested her chin on them. “Uh-huh. And . . . ?”

“And nothing,” I said, a little too sharply.

“Looks like something.”

“Don’t you have any work to do?”

She scoffed. “When my best friend was just assaulted in an alley? Hells no, girl.”

“I just want to forget about it, okay?”

I rubbed my forehead, wishing it was possible to forget. That night ran through my head morning, noon and night. It wasn’t just Eric I was thinking about, either. I was increasingly finding my thoughts wandering to the man whose cedar-scented flannel shirt was sitting on a chair in my bedroom.

It had to be because he’d saved me. This was just some sort of knight-in-shining armor complex I was experiencing. Why else would I be fantasizing about Kane? He’d shown no interest in me and more importantly, seemed to be the polar opposite of the men I usually chose.

“It’s screwed up to be thinking about a guy after the other night,” I said, my voice nearly a whisper as I stared into space.

“Honey, the only thing that’s screwed up is what that asshole did to you. Don’t you dare make yourself feel like anything you’ve thought or felt since then is wrong.”

And that was why I loved Cara. She knew when to push and when to reassure.

“You have time for a Starbucks run?” I asked, standing up and reaching for my purse.

“Always.”

“How’s my scarf?”

I walked around to the front of my desk and Cara rearranged it a little. She fluffed up my long, dark hair a little, too.

“Perfect,” she said. “Let’s just drop by my office so I can grab a scarf.”