“I don’t like how closely he’s watching her,” Ryker murmured. “Not with an uptick in coverage of her story. It was on again this morning. The FBI is getting desperate to find her.”
“I caught it,” Xavier said.
“Me, too.” Damon sipped his bourbon, his skin holding a familiar buzz of adrenaline. He was ready for whatever was about to happen. “Should I storm over there like I did with Jeff?”
“No,” Slater murmured. “Wait and see how it plays out.”
Walker laughed at something Ella said as she handed him back his credit card. This time, he held her wrist so she couldn’t move.
She glanced in Damon’s direction with a panicked expression.
“Fuck it. At least I’ll get to hit someone tonight.” He stood to take a step, but she extracted her hand. Damon motioned her over, and she power walked down the length of the bar, away from Walker, before exiting. “He needs to keep his damn hands to himself.”
Slater tugged on the back of Damon’s shirt. “Sit. Overreacting will be the worst thing to keep Walker away. He’s like an overstimulated puppy. If it pisses you off, he’s going to keep doing it because he loves the game. Your move with Detective Moore worked last time. Try that again. Let him know she’s yours. He’ll back off. He may be a piece of shit, but he’s not suicidal.”
Speaking of men who’d touched Ella. Damon looked across the table to Ryker. “Did you ever finish that background research on whoever the hell Matteo is?”
“As far as I can see, what she said is true. They’ve been photographed at a few events together, the last one about six months ago. He’s very active on social media, and there’s no mention of her or her disappearance. If there had been some love connection between them, he would’ve posted something about tropical couple vacations. Happy birthdays. Valentine’s Day. Nothing.”
“Why do I hate the guy for it and am happy simultaneously?”
“Same reason you can’t stand to see Walker touch her.” Ryker shrugged. “She likes you, Damon. Make a move. See where it goes.”
“I hope that’s true because I’m about to take Slater’s advice to ensure Walker doesn’t touch her again.”
“And if that doesn’t work, we can always do something irrational.” Slater cracked his knuckles.
“Did you need more drinks?” Ella asked, looking at the mostly full drinks sitting on the table.
Damon shook his head, focused on Walker, who’d followed her across the room. “No. Just wanted to see you.”
With a puzzled look, she glanced over her shoulder. “See me or save me?”
“Both.”
Walker stepped up to the table.
Damon reached out and snagged Ella’s hand, pulling her the rest of the way to him, turning her around by the hips, and setting her down on his lap.
She sat. “Oh!”
Damon leaned close to her ear. “Play along.”
She looked down at her hands, and the curve of her cheek lifted with a smile. “Won’t be hard.”
Damon grunted. “What the hell are you doing here, Walker?” he asked.
Ella jerked her head up at the mention of his name.
He held onto the outside of Ella’s thigh. He meant it to appear possessive. Because he was. That had hit him the moment her butt had hit his lap. Walker and every other person in the bar, fuck it. Every person in Charleston would get the picture that Ella was off limits.
Now, he had to get Ella on board with that idea.
Holding his gaze, Walker took a sip of his drink. Then, he glanced down at Ella, where Damon held her thigh, before shaking his head. “You always were a lucky son of a bitch.”
“Let me repeat the question. What are you doing here?”
“I can’t stop in for a neighborly chat?”