Page 73 of Need You Now

She waves a dismissive hand, angling her face to the bartender. “No, I don’t.”

The man steps up. “Just a little two-step. You’re lookin’ lost in this bar, Blondie.” Before she knows it, one of the man’s meaty hands snakes around her elbow, and she’s being pushed up against a hard wall.

“No,” she says, frantic. She looks around for Seth, but she can’t make him out in the throng of bodies. She struggles against the man’s grip. “Stop.”

Terror flips her stomach. His touch is heavy, threatening, rough.

And she feels him. The mugger. It’s like he’s there with her, in her space. On her body, pressing her up against that red brick wall, his foul breath, his stench. Her purse hitting the concrete. The snap of her necklace as it was torn from her throat. The sick suck of the knife into her stomach.

Lacey closes her eyes, trying to brace herself against the wall, only to sway on her feet. Her skin goes hot and cold, clammy, as the air’s squeezed from her lungs.

The cowboy gives her arm a yank, trying to drag her toward the dance floor.

And then Lacey opens her mouth, finds her lungs, and screams.

The terrified scream rips through the bar, tearing Seth away from the group of people gathered around him. “What the hell?” Graham cranes his head, a confused look on his weathered face.

Lacey.

She screams again, panicked and high-pitched.

Seth bites back a curse and spins around, his eyes frantically searching out the direction of the sound. And then he sees it. A blond woman huddled against the bar. A man with his hand wrapped around her arm.

Fury flashes hot through him.

Seth moves so fast he has the guy pinned against the bar before he knows what’s hit him. Lacey cringes and cowers back against the wall, terror all over her face.

“Back the fuck off,” Seth snarls.

“Hey, man!” the guy bleats, his eyes wide as saucers. “What’s your fucking problem?” He tries to look past Seth to Lacey. “She’s the one freaking the fuck out!”

Seth clenches a fist and advances. “I said back off and shut the fuck up.”

Then there’s a hand on his shirt, on his shoulder, tugging him away. Lacey’s soft voice saying, pleading, “Don’t fight. Please don’t fight.”

Seth wants to hit the guy. Bad. But then he remembers Luke, the slash of the beer bottle, the blood, Sal’s scream. And he’s blinking. He blinking away that rage to focus on Lacey.

Lacey, who’s shaking and terrified.

Lacey who needs him.

He immediately turns to her, sweeping his eyes over her, checking her condition.

He doesn’t like what he sees. She’s trembling, her arms wrapped around herself, her face drained of color, her lips bloodless.

“Hey, hey,” he says, putting a hand out. He keeps his voice gentle and takes a step toward her. “It’s okay, Lace. Do you hear me? You’re safe.”

Her face twists up, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I saw him out there, Seth,” she says, her breath coming in small panicked puffs. She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t want to see him. I can’t see him anymore ... I can’t, I can’t ...”

He grabs her up right before she breaks down. He locks her body to his, holding her tight, and Lacey hides her face in his shirt, clinging to him. His palm comes up to cradle her face against her chest, to shield her from the silent bar, the people gawking with questions.

“Seth,” she cries. Her slender frame shakes in his arms, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want to go home.”

He kisses the top of her blond head, wraps his arms around her tighter. “Shhh, I got you,” he whispers, his voice choked by emotion. “I got you, Lace.”

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