“I-I can’t,” he says before he turns and starts to climb up a dumpster.
I easily grab his ankle, jerking him back down. He lets go of his gun in the clatter, not that I was too worried about him hitting me, since he’s a horrible shot.
As I pull him off the dumpster, he’s so busy reaching for his lost gun that he doesn’t try to stop his fall, landing headfirst on the pavement. His neck bends at an unfortunate angle.
Shit.
I can tell by the way his body goes limp that he’s either unconscious or dead, neither of which I have time to deal with right now.
Dammit, I was just about to convince Kirsten to let me tie her up!
Reaching for the side of his neck, I wait several seconds, not feeling a pulse. Well, fuck. I check his wallet, take his cash and ID, then heave him up and over into an open dumpster. Throwing a few black trash bags from the closed one on top of him, I hide his body from view before I race back to the club.
Kirsten still sits on the filthy ground, her back against the building, knees tucked to her chest. Her white dress is now more of a dirty grey color.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I approach her.
“What was that about?”
“Someone just tried to kill you and failed spectacularly.” Kneeling before her, I notice her knees are skinned and bleeding. Her arms too. “Sorry about the scrapes.”
She just stares at me, at my eyes visible through the stupid mask. “You went after him and I…froze.”
“It’s normal. Fight, flight, or paralysis. I’ve always been one to fight. The guy who shot you was flight, or he would’ve stood his ground and put a few bullets in me.”
“Why did you do that? Why risk yourself for me? You don’t know me.”
“I want to know you,” I admit. “And that wouldn’t happen if you bled out and died in a shitty alley.”
She just looks at me unblinking in her mask, as if in shock. Looks like the night is definitely over.
“Come on.” I stand and offer her my hand. “I’ll get you home, since I’m guessing you don’t want to go back into the club.” She nods and takes my hand with her much smaller one, letting me pull her to her feet. She’s unsteady on her heels, so I put my arm around her waist to support her. “We’ll stop by the front check-in to get your coat and phone.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She’s probably going to be in shock for hours, which means I won’t get to play with her anymore tonight. It’s a shame, but how was I supposed to know someone would send an assassin after her?
Speaking of which, tomorrow morning, my cousins and I are going to have words, their wives too. They have to at least give me a chance to come up with the blackmail to convince her to drop the charges before they send someone to kill her. That won’t solve shit, since the next DA will just pick up where Kirsten left off.
A few minutes later, I help her into her coat, put her phone in her hand, and flag down a taxi for her from the sidewalk in front of the club. “Are you going to be okay from here, or do you want me to come with you?”
She blinks and then says, “Should I call the police?”
“No.”
“Why not? I was almost shot and —”
“He won’t hurt you or anyone else ever again.”
“How do you know?”
“Get in the car, Kirsten.”
Her lips part and I realize I’ve made a grave mistake.
“H-how do you know my name? I thought this was all supposed to be anonymous!”
She’s more concerned about me knowing her name than the fact that someone almost killed her.
