Safe In His Sight. Regan Black

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      “Mr. Galway—”

      “Mitch. We’re going to be inseparable for a while, Julia.”

      He made it sound so ominous. And so tempting, she thought with a mental sigh. She ignored that hero-worshiping voice. “Right. Mitch.” She tested his name as he led her out the back door and into the dark night.

      The void of the Delaware River stretching away in both directions startled her and she stopped short. She’d forgotten the club was perched at the end of a pier. On the opposite riverbank, New Jersey sparkled. Little more than the bass of the band was audible once the door closed behind them. She knew thousands of people were nearby, in restaurants and bars, condos and businesses, but right now, she couldn’t see any of them. The solitude was blissful.

      The cool night air slipped under her coat and she shivered. Mitch stepped up and wrapped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her into his warmth as they walked up the pier to the parking area across the street. Immediately, her body resisted the invasion of her personal space. Just her luck she’d get saddled with a touchy-feely type of buffer. “Do you have to touch me?”

      “Relax, play along. If you were followed here, being with me will throw your stalker a curveball.”

      Followed. One more fear to add to the heap, though the idea of putting the stalker off balance appealed to her. The jerk had demonstrated too much familiarity with her life and habits this afternoon. Giving in, she leaned into Mitch’s solid body as if she could truly count on a man she’d just met. No, it wasn’t smart, but it wasn’t forever. Her entire life had been one lesson after another proving she was better off handling things on her own.

      Until now. It had been quite a blow this afternoon to realize she had no idea how to overcome a situation where her opponent operated so swiftly and effectively from the shadows.

      “How do you think he found out so much about me in such a short amount of time?”

      “That’s a tough question. I’ll need a look at the file you assembled.” Mitch’s fingers flexed on her shoulder through her coat. “We’ll figure it out.”

      “How?” She had the impression he was holding back his real opinion of her and her situation. “You think he knows me.” Anxiety slid through her belly and she gazed out over the parking lot, expecting to see that orange cap. “Or maybe you believe I’m exaggerating the circumstances.”

      His sharp inhale was followed by a vapor cloud as he exhaled into the cold night air. “You don’t hold back much, do you?” He slipped a key into the door lock of a classic muscle car and opened the door for her. “Slide in,” he suggested when she stood there waiting for his reply.

      “Answer me,” she said. “Please,” she added a beat too late to be considered polite.

      He laughed. “You’ll get answers. In the meantime, let’s get warm.”

      She gave the car a long look. The glossy, midnight-blue finish reflected the nearby lights as if they were stars in the sky. Sinking into the passenger seat, she discovered supple leather upholstery and polished walnut accents on the dashboard, console and gearshift.

      “I’m impressed,” she said when Mitch settled his tall frame behind the steering wheel.

      “It loses points as a classic with the high-end upgrades rather than original features,” he said. “But I like it better.”

      “Must have cost you a fortune.”

      “You can bet I’ll charge someone a fortune when I sell it.” He shot her a wink as the engine roared to life.

      She pulled her feet away from the vibration as he chuckled again. “You rebuild cars when you’re not bartending at Escape?”

      “Sometimes.” He blew into his cupped hands to warm them. “Where to?”

      She gave him her address, relieved her voice didn’t catch. When she’d walked to work this morning, her world had been normal and safe. Since the stalker had stormed into her life, any thought of going home—going anywhere she typically went—set off that clawing panic.

      “City girl all the way, huh?” he asked.

      “It’s close to the office.” She wasn’t inclined to share more about her life than necessary to resolve her problem. In her experience, sharing didn’t change how people saw her.

      “Some people like to get away and enjoy a change of scenery at the end of the day.”

      She bristled at the not-so-subtle judgment in his statement. Some people didn’t work new-associate hours at the best and largest law firm in the city. “The proximity of my home and office should make keeping track of me easier,” she said, hoping her irritation wasn’t too obvious.

      “Proximity? Fair point,” he allowed.

      “So, you rebuild cars when you’re not tending bar?” She wanted to know what kind of skills he had and how he planned to use them to help her. Details she should have hammered out with Grant rather than simply rolling along because she was scared and well out of her element.

      “Among other things. Normally I restore cars when I’m not fighting fires.”

      “Galway,” she said as the name clicked into place. “I read about your case.” It had been a big headline a few weeks ago. “The fire department suspended you for punching a victim at a fire scene.” She had a sudden vision of Mitch planting a fist into her stalker’s face. It was surprisingly satisfying.

      Mitch snorted. “Not the best fifteen minutes of fame for the PFD or me.” He drummed his fingers on the gearshift while they waited for a red light to change. “Perp is a better word for that sorry excuse of a man.”

      “What happened?”

      “What do you really want to know?”

      She hesitated. “I’d like to hear your side of it.” Her natural curiosity had occasionally proved helpful at work, but on a personal level it usually got her in trouble. “Only if you want to share.” Would a man with a quick temper be an asset or a hindrance in her situation? “The news offered up teasers at first, but nothing real ever came out when the PFD went silent and applied the ‘ongoing investigation’ comment.”

      “Thank God for small favors.”

      If he’d been her client, she would agree with him. As her buffer, she wanted to know who he was behind the sculpted biceps and handsome bravado. She cleared her throat. “Well? Do you want to tell me?”

      He drove another few blocks in silence. “Look, I’ve been part of the PFD all my life,” he said at last. “First as a fireman’s kid and later as a volunteer before I graduated the academy and earned a spot on my own merit.” He worked through the gears and then squeezed through a narrow gap in traffic to make the last left turn onto her street.

      “Are you trying to scare me?” she demanded, bracing herself against the door.

      “No,” he said, startled by her outburst. “Sorry. Sorry,” he repeated with more sincerity. “The whole mess annoys me.”

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