Niall (Vigilance 2)

No way in hell was I going to let them take this girl. I’d spent some time on the streets when I’d broken with my family. It had fucking sucked, and plenty of people had tried to take advantage of me—men who wanted to pimp me out, people who led me on like they wanted to help me when they just wanted sex or drugs or both, and small-time criminals who didn’t recognize my connections and wanted me to work for them.

I knew the men who were waiting for this girl had already taken other kids and young adults. I hadn’t been able to save them, but I was going to save her. I couldn’t let this go on.

I headed down the street, keeping an eye out for a girl with long blonde hair. This time of night, most any kid who was alone would stand out.

I was about to turn around when Renzo texted me. She’s coming through the alley. Maybe she saw them and is trying to avoid them.

Try to get her to talk to you. I’m on my way.

I ran, no longer concerned with keeping a low profile.

When I got to where Renzo was waiting, he was holding onto the girl while she struggled and kicked at him.

Shit. I hadn’t meant for him to grab her.

I knelt down, ready to try and calm her, when I heard footsteps and someone shouting.

“What the fuck are you doing poaching on our territory?”

I had my gun out before the asshole finished speaking.

“That’s them,” Renzo said as if I couldn’t guess.

Two men ran toward us. I fired, dropping both of them.

“Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit!” Renzo yelled

I grabbed his arm and shook him, needing him to listen. “Call the emergency number I gave you. Give the code word and our location and ask for a cleanup.”

That number was for Devil Marchesi. He and his former cop husband were also out to stop these traffickers.

While I was distracted, the girl started to run. I didn’t want to scare her worse, but she needed help.

“Wait. I’m not going to hurt you. I swear it.”

I managed to get past her and block the alley exit. “You… you killed those men.”

I shook my head. “They’re not dead.”

She took a few steps back, glanced toward the men who still lay on the ground, then turned back to me. “How do you know?”

“I’m a damn good shot, and I know where I put the bullets. My friend is calling someone to take care of them. I shot them so they wouldn’t hurt you. Is there somewhere I can take you where you can get help?”

She scowled at me. “No. I’m taking care of myself.”

“Those men were watching for you. If they’d gotten hold of you… it would have been bad.”

“I know. I was trying to avoid them.”

“That was smart. Are you on your own?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Who are you? Are you a cop?”

I laughed. “Definitely not.”

“Social worker?” The venom in her tone made it clear that was even worse than being a cop.

“No.”

“Then why do you care?”

I care because I’m a decent person. I don’t like people that hurt children, and I’ve been on the street without anyone to help me.”

“I can’t trust you.”

I wouldn’t trust me either if I were in her position, but I needed to convince her to trust me anyway. I was so out of my depth here.

“Would you let me take you to get something to eat? You can lead the way and choose where we go. It can be someplace public and crowded.”

“I want to go to Italia Eatery.” She pointed in the direction my informant had told me she always went. “They know me there.”

“All right. Walk on ahead of me. I’ll make sure there’s no one else watching for you.”

She studied me, obviously still uncertain.

“I’m not a cop. I’m not a social worker. I run a pawn shop. I have some questionable friends, but none of them like to see children hurt.”

“Okay, fine. Just stay back.”

I let her get several feet in front of me, then began to follow. She went around to the side of the restaurant. When she knocked on a door marked Employees Only, a woman who looked like she was in her late thirties answered the door.

“Brianna! Hang on, and I’ll get something for you.”

“Actually”—she gestured toward me—“this man helped me with some guys that were trying to hurt me. He said he’d buy me dinner.”

The woman narrowed her eyes at me.

I raised my hands in a surrender position. “I want to get her some food and talk to her about how I can help her. I swear I don’t want to hurt her.”

She studied me for a few moments, then her instincts must have told her I was telling the truth because she nodded and said, “Go around front and ask for a table. When you’re seated, I’ll escort Brianna through the kitchen.”