“There’s always a choice, Grier. You and I have been at this long enough to know that.”
“He helped me.”
“He got you kidnapped. He felt guilty. Not guilty enough to call the police to come help you,” he pointed out.
“He’s as good as dead,” she snapped. “Don’t you care?”
“I care about you. I can’t care about saving someone who’s got no interest in saving himself when he had the opportunity.” Reid sounded cold but his eyes told her that he felt as badly as she did. He just wouldn’t admit it, would stick to logic because that’s what got him through. And she knew she should be letting Reid lead her out of the alley, that she was risking both their lives for a witness who hadn’t cared about hers. But Benji was damaged, and she wouldn’t leave her witness behind.
Just then, a door farther down the alley slammed open and two of the bouncers came toward them. No one would hear her scream over the roar of the crowd. No one would hear gunshots either.
She’d been too focused on the fight in front of her to think about the real danger to them both. Now Reid moved in front of her.
“You don’t let them take you—that’s your only goddamned job,” he told her as the men ran toward them, pointing.
She saw the flash of a gun and her stomach went sour. “Reid, I don’t want them to take me.”
“They’re not going to.”
From Reid, that was a promise. But Reid let them get close—close enough to make the mistake that many people who owned guns but didn’t know how to use them made. The man held the gun too close to Reid and he was able to grab it, twisting the man’s wrist and turning the muzzle toward his chest instead.
And Reid pulled the trigger as the man’s face went slack with surprise. He sank down and Reid didn’t hesitate, made quick work of the other man with a couple of punches.
“I didn’t hit anything critical,” Reid told her. “I know you’re law-abiding and all.”
She deserved that. She deserved everything, especially because she was stupid enough to turn back and check on Benji.
Reid sighed, but let her. Because, if, by some miracle, Benji pulled it out, won this fight . . .
As if reading her mind, Benji stood and threw a punch that made the bigger man flail backward. He hit him twice more and seemed to be making a comeback. But the bigger man got in a single punch, not necessarily a hard one or even a good one, but it stopped Benji cold. His body crumpled and hit the mat and the big man put his hands in the air, as if he knew he’d won. For a few moments, the crowd joined him in the celebration. The ref held the winner’s arm in the air, declaring the fight over. And then he bent down to assess Benji. When he looked up, his face was panic-stricken.
He was obviously not in on the fix. She read his lips—he began yelling for medics, telling someone to call 911. It was deadly quiet, despite all the people. And then it was sheer and utter madness when the crowd realized what was happening, especially when the ref yelled, “He’s got no pulse!”
The crowd herded together to head for the exits, and Grier wanted to yell at all of them, tell them they were cowards for not staying to help. She surged toward the open door, trying to go against the crowd. Reid grabbed her, flattened her to the wall of the alley as the crowds stampeded around them. He held her in place by her biceps and spoke directly into her ear. “I will goddamned drag you out of here if I have to. You want an ugly shoot-out exit with innocents caught in the cross fire, you’ve got it.”
“No one here’s innocent,” she told him, didn’t know if he heard her, but she ultimately complied. Because Reid was right—she was more useful when she was both free and alive. The things she’d seen tonight—they’d be burned into her brain forever.
“This way.” He led her into the mass exodus. Sirens rang in the distance. Someone in the crowd had a guilty conscience, she’d bet. They’d dialed on the run because there was no way they’d let the ref call.
Reid held her hand, his strides fast. Her ribs ached and her head throbbed, but she kept up. The sheer mass of people suffocated her. She’d never had even a hint of claustrophobia before, but she had a feeling it would be a problem from here on out.
Reid seemed to sense she was having bigger problems than the pain. He slowed, put a protective arm around her back and pulled her tight to him. He half buried her face against his chest, trusted him to guide her forward as she moved one foot in front of the other by rote. She lost sense of time and place, tried to stop thinking about Benji’s death.
You should’ve contacted his parents, whether he wanted you to or not.
Another regret.
“Almost there,” he promised. Seconds later, she felt the air change. They’d stepped inside someplace loud. There was music—and she stopped shielding her face and let her eyes adjust to the dark of the bar. It was packed, and she recognized a few faces from the crowd at the fight, looking to avoid the cop cars.
“Back entrance?” she asked.
“Side. Toward the lot. Two beers,” he called to the waitress.
“We’re going to drink?”
“No.” When the beer came, he poured one all over her and then told her to rinse her mouth with the other. “Now we’re ready.”
A gallant man taking his stumbling drunk girlfriend home was perfect, but . . . “Maybe we should have the cops help us, Reid.”
“And maybe the cops are in on this too. I don’t trust anyone. Except you and me.”
“And even I’m iffy in that equation.”
“You said it, not me.” He tugged her along and she went
