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his shit. Maeve was patting his arm, trying to calm him, but she looked ready to spit nails as well. Rory hesitated, wanting to offer words of solace, but found he was empty. What the hell would I say? I’m sorry the bar that you live, breathe, and love was violated by someone preying on women? Looking toward the back, there were only a few patrons left, all first responders. James looked over, and Rory threw his hand up in a half-hearted wave, no longer interested in a night out.

The barstools were empty, so he stepped close, capturing Torin’s gaze. “This is not on you, man.” His gaze shot to Maeve before moving back to Torin. “Not on either of you. You run a good place. A safe place. Hell, most of the people in here are first responders and none of us noticed anything. So don’t take this on, Torin.”

Torin’s mouth remained shut, his jaw was tight, but he offered a quick nod. Unable to think of anything else to say, he slung his coat over his shoulder and started for the door. A flash of pink to the side caught his attention, and he turned to look toward the booth in the front corner. Sandy sat, squeezed so tightly into the corner it was as though she was trying to meld her body into the wall. Her face was pale, and she stared at her clasped hands resting on the table.

Stepping closer, he called out softly, “Sandy?” She remained perfectly still. Concern filled him, and he leaned closer. “Sandy?”

She jumped slightly, her head turning so that her blue eyes landed on his face, but she said nothing. Staring into her gaze, he wasn’t sure she was seeing him.

“Sandy, what are you doing here in the corner? The police don’t need you anymore. You can go home.”

She blinked, still not speaking, and he grew more concerned. He reached forward and placed his hand on hers, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. Out of professional habit, he felt her pulse, concerned that it was low. Tugging ever so gently, he encouraged, “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

She blinked again, looked down at his hand on her arm, and then back up to his face, confusion written in her expression. “Rory?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and he grew more desperate to get her out of the pub.

He continued to pull her gently out of the booth, assisting her to stand. Her body was shaking, and he wrapped his coat around her shoulders. It was huge on her petite body, but he hoped the warmth would settle into her.

Her gaze darted around as though she were waking from sleep. “I… I… uh… I need to… uh… get home.”

“Yes, you do, and that’s what I’m gonna make sure happens.” He guided her toward the door, pushing it open while keeping one arm wrapped around her shoulders. Once outside, the cool wind seemed to help revive her, and she sucked in a deep, ragged breath. “That’s good, Sandy. Breathe deeply.”

She looked up and down the road as though trying to identify her vehicle. As she reached into her purse, he observed her hands shaking. With his arm still wrapped around her shoulder, he guided her toward his truck.

She looked up in surprise and pointed in the other direction. “My SUV is over there.”

“You’re in no condition to drive. I’m going to take you home.”

Still pale and shaky, he could feel her spine stiffening. “I… I can drive. I’m sure I can drive.”

Despite her resolve, he didn’t trust that she was over the trauma and wasn’t about to leave her alone, especially since there was an obvious predator in the area. He turned and faced her, both hands on her shoulders, and leaned down so that his face was directly in front of hers. “Sandy, you’re a smart woman. Right now, with what happened in there, it’s obviously shaken you up a great deal. On top of that, there’s somebody out here preying on women. Now, I’m going to take you home, whether you want it or not. You can be mad at me, but I can go to sleep tonight knowing you’re safe.”

She sucked in her lips and held his gaze for a long moment. Finally, she deflated, and her shoulders slumped. Nodding slowly, she said nothing but allowed him to guide her to his truck.

Once on the road, Rory continually glanced toward the passenger side of his truck, his concern growing as she stared listlessly out the window. In all the months they’d been acquainted, he’d seen Sandy happy, laughing, talking, and even angry. But he had never seen her quiet, fearful, lost in her own thoughts. And now, she was all three. He had no idea where she lived but thought it might be in the trendy, high-rise condos near the Inner Harbor. Turning toward the downtown area, he said softly, “Sandy, you need to tell me where you live.”

She blinked and looked toward him before turning back to the windshield as though seeing the street for the first time. “Oh, sorry. I’m not anywhere close to here. I’m off of Almeda.”

Now it was his turn to blink as he turned the corner to head in the other direction. He knew the area off of Almeda Street, and it was far from trendy. It was the type of old neighborhood that was slowly being revitalized. Probably, in another five years, the townhouses and condos would be mostly bought and flipped, bringing in new owners and renters. That would also bring in some new businesses catering to the younger residents. But for now, while it was not run down or dangerous, it certainly wasn’t where he pictured her living.

As he got closer, she directed him at each intersection, finally saying, “This is my street. I have a condo on the corner. You can just park up here and let me out.”

“No way. I’m going to make sure you get

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