Page 86 of When We Break

Ice-cold fear spears through my body.

Before I can fully turn, lips are pressed to the shell of my ear.

“So good to see you, my beautiful, tiny dancer.” He kisses me—fecking kisses me!—and then he’s off, moving through the crowd.

I can’t breathe.

My heart kicks up as I press my lips together, searching the crowd, and then I see him.

Beckett.

His face is murderous as he makes his way through the packed room to me. My feet won’t move. Mybodywon’t move.

But I don’t have to because then, Beck’s here, and his warm hands frame my face as a sob tears from my throat.

“What is it, baby?” He presses his lips to my forehead and then stares me in the eyes. “What happened?”

“He’s here.” Is that rough whisper my voice?

“Who is?” That’s Connor’s voice, but I can’t tear my gaze away from Beckett’s eyes.

“L-The Arsehole.”

Beckett’s grip tightens on me.

“He touched me.” I lick my lips. “And said it was good to see me. Called me tiny dancer. I fecking hate that name.”

“We need to get out of here,” Beck says to Connor, who’s already nodding and motioning to someone.

“I can stay.” I shake my head and take a breath. “Let me collect myself.”

“No, we’re leaving,” Beckett insists. “Connor?”

“Sir, what’s going on?” Miller joins us. He takes one look at me, and his face goes stony.

“Get us back to the hotel,” Beckett says. “And find the fucker who keeps terrorizing my girl so I can have a word with him.”

“Beck.”

“Follow me,” Miller says, and he’s already speaking into his wrist, the way you see in movies. I don’t know why, but that makes me laugh.

“She’s going into shock.” I think that’s Connor’s voice.

“My handbag.”

“I’ve got your bloody handbag,” Connor says. His voice is sogrowlywhen he’s angry. “And I’ll handle everything here.”

My skin is crawling, and I shiver. Oh God, he had his bloody hands on me. Hismouth.I wish I was numb. I wish this creepy sensation would go the bloody hell away.

“Beck.” I can’t stop saying his name.

“Can you walk?” Beckett asks me as his thumbs move over my cheeks, catching tears that I don’t want anyone else to see.

“Okay.”

“I will carry you out of here if I have to,” Beck says in a low voice, leaning in to press his cheek against my own, “but I don’t want to bring any more attention to this. Can you walk out of this room, Irish?”

I nod, but he grips more tightly.

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