Like a shadow, blocking out the sunset, blocking out the sun itself. Our stride stuttered, and both Stella and I came to a complete stop on the sidewalk.
My attention shot to Stella, her entire demeanor changing in a moment. Suddenly, her easy smile was gone. Her body turned rigid, hands fisted at her sides and her eyes squeezed shut. She had been yanked back into a memory. Of something that terrified her. Of that night.
Because of the man who had stepped into our path.
“Babe?” I asked Stella, making sure to keep my eyes on the tall man in black who was standing in front of us yet to utter a word.
My own body tensed as I readied myself for confrontation. Though I couldn’t be sure, something told me this man was connected to Jay Helmick. Stella was a fashion stylist with a fabulous life. But before Jay Helmick entered it, she was not getting attacked or accosted by dangerous men in sharp black suits.
And this man was dangerous.
I could tell by the glint in his eye. The way he held himself. The very energy.
Kevin Macintyre, the ex-SAS solider who had trained me in self-defense and survival skills, taught me to spot men such as this. How to recognize whether I could defend myself or if they were stone cold killers with no souls. This man in the suit seemed like the latter. Some deep, cold survival instinct told me that.
My own fists clenched, not from fear but preparing to fight this man, to the death if need be.
Stella opened her eyes, unclenched her fists, and her body relaxed. Or appeared like it did. There was still tightness in her face, her eyes stormy with fear.
“I’m fine,” she told me firmly.
I did not believe her. Not even a little. So I zeroed in on the man in front of me. He was tall. Really fucking tall. But then again, everyone was tall to me since I was 5’2” and generally petite everywhere but my tits.
But this guy was over six foot for sure. It wasn’t even his size that made him seem tall, it was his overwhelming presence. The air seemed different around him. The column of his neck was thick, muscular. His eyes were a piercing ice blue, bone structure sharp, high cheekbones and a chiseled jaw.
Handsome. Very fucking handsome. And not something that was important at this juncture.
Stella tilted her chin upward. “Karson, what are you doing here?”
I wanted to smile at the bite in her tone.
But the name stopped me.
Karson.
He was the man who saved her that night. Because Jay had been having her followed. And it seemed he was still having her followed. He was obviously captivated by my friend. It made sense. She was captivating. Gorgeous. Smart. Funny. Self-made.
But that did not mean he could have his fucking goon accost her on the street, the first day she felt powerful in a month.
“Mr. Helmick would like to see you,” Karson said, focused on Stella.
Stella stared at him in shock, her face pale at the mention of the name.
“Mr. Helmick?” I snapped at him. “The Mr. Helmick?” I directed this question at Stella now.
She was still staring at Karson. “The very one,” she said, her voice nowhere near as strong as before.
“There is a car waiting for you.” Karson nodded at a black car at the curb that was illegally parked.
I was interested to see the cop who dared give this man a ticket.
But most of my energy was going toward Stella, watching her for signs of some kind of post traumatic breakdown so I could step in for her.
Though she had been shaken, something sharpened in her as she looked from the car to Karson. “A car waiting for me?” she repeated.
I bit back a grin at her tone. No, she was not going to break down.
“You expect me to get in it now?” she asked a stone-faced Karson.