Page 30 of Secret Twins for My Ex's SEAL Best Friend

“Not everything,” he said grimly, without a trace of humor.

His eyes moved slowly down my body, and I outwardly shuddered. He shook the glass in his hand slightly and asked, “How about another drink?”

“I’m really sorry, but we’re closing now. I can’t serve anymore.” I gestured to my wrist as though I had a watch on. “3 a.m. Not legal to serve after that.”

His tongue flicked over his teeth like he was fishing out a popcorn kernel. His dark eyes were fixed on me. Still staring at me, he brought the glass up to his mouth and siphoned the rest down his throat before dropping it onto the counter with a slimy smile. “Maybe another time.”

“Sure,” I squeaked, watching him closely as he left. As soon as he was out of the bar, I raced from behind the counter to lock the front door and breathed a sigh of relief as I went to finish counting the drawer.

After I finished, I did my closing duties, mopping and washing dishes. By the time I finished restocking, my feet hurt and I was exhausted all through my body. I was just happy to see the outside when I left the bar and locked it, smelling the fresh Seattle air.

I turned around and was face-to-face with the man from the bar, his eyes standing out in his milky white skin against the night. A gasp ripped through me, and I felt all the hairs on my skin stand at attention.

“Delia, right?” he asked congenially.

Should I answer?

I looked across the street where my car was and realized with a plunging terror that I wouldn’t be able to run to it and get in before he could catch me. It was too far.

I turned with a smile that felt like it was propped on my face and croaked out, “What are you doing?”

“Oh, you seem scared. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just left something in the bathroom, I’m realizing. Could you let me back in? Just for a minute?”

I didn’t look back, too afraid to look away from him. My heart felt like it was completely still in my chest, and I didn’t know how this was going to end. I tried to reach into my purse for my taser as I started walking away, saying, “You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“Please, it’s my wallet,” the man said, following me.

“I can’t. I can’t go back in after I leave,” I lied, my voice becoming more frantic as I continued to my car.

The man followed behind me, and I just kept going, not looking back at him. When I reached my door, I opened it, but the man slammed it shut and said, “Hey, bitch, I need my phone.”

I almost hesitated. I almost apologized. But instead, I stomped on his foot, and he let out a short cry before I saw a film of rage cover his eyes and his hands come toward me.

I ducked, and I was about to headbutt him – something else I’d learned in self-defense classes – when an arm shot out and wrapped around his neck.

I screamed out of instinct and stepped back quickly, avoiding the man’s flailing legs as he tried to kick.

The man let out a strangled sound, and his head went flying back as the arm around his throat tightened.

I looked up at the assailant, my hero, and saw Robert’s green eyes narrowed as he used his other hand in the crook of his elbow to chokehold the man, pressing tighter and tighter.

“You okay?” he asked me, from over the man’s head. “Good job with the stomp. I’m proud of you.”

I couldn’t say anything, and I soon realized that I was crying, tears streaming down my face in fear as the man’s fingers clawed at Robert’s arms.

For a moment, I just silently watched as fresh blood bloomed on his skin as the guy’s nails scratched deeply, and then I snapped out of it and pulled out my phone to call 911.

The man tried to elbow Robert for a moment more, and then he was out, and Robert lowered him to the concrete.

fourteen

Robert

“What are you doing here?” Delia asked me, looking completely shaken up as we waited for the police. I had my foot on the man’s forehead in case he woke up. If he even so much as tried to move, I’d crush his fucking head with my heel. Internally, I seethed.

I told her this fucking job was dangerous. I told Jeremy, and I told her, and no one listened to me.

“I came to tell you I was sorry for how I spoke to you,” I muttered, looking down at the unconscious man. “Seems like I was right, though.”

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