The cement steps were cold and mottled with stains of God knew what. Jane opted to lean against the wall. Joey didn’t seem to have the same qualms about the stairs.
They were quiet for a few seconds.
“So where did you live before you came back here?” Jane asked.
“A place in Jersey.”
“Oh, I’ve never been to New Jersey.”
He stood up, shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and kicked an empty can down the alley. The metallic sound echoed off the concrete walls surrounding them. “I can’t say I was too fond of it. My life there was really—confining.”
Jane could understand that. “I grew up in Maine, which is a beautiful state, but the town I grew up in was too small, too suffocating. People got labeled at a young age, and they could never escape that label. Never.”
Joey walked toward her, and for the first time, she realized he was rather big. His boyish face gave the impression he would be thin, lanky, but he was actually quite broad and muscular.
“Now, you see, I get that. I’ve been labeled myself.” He stepped closer, stopping only inches from her. “You know, baby, you are really a pretty lady.”
“No,” she denied, her skin heating even in the cold. Even though she didn’t know Joey, the flattery was nice. She’d never had a man say that to her.
“I haven’t seen a lady as pretty as you for a long time.”
Again the flattery made her chest swell. She didn’t quite believe him, but the words were nice to hear.
He stepped a little closer—still not touching her but making it clear he wanted to.
She liked his compliments, but she wasn’t willing to kiss him. She didn’t know him. And she just wasn’t the type of woman to do such a thing.
Then again she was in New York City to start a new life. To find some excitement.
Was she really considering kissing a stranger? No. Then the beautiful stranger popped into her head. Would she kiss him?
What was she thinking? She must be drunk. She giggled.
“What?” Joey asked, leaning a hand on the wall so that if Jane moved she’d brush against him.
She sobered. She didn’t want to give him the impression she was interested. She shifted down the wall a bit.
“I was just thinking what a crazy day I’ve had.” Maybe if she kept talking, he’d get the idea.
“Oh, yeah?” He moved toward her again.
She swallowed. Maybe she should just leave. Something in his eyes suddenly made her nervous.
“What happened?” he asked, and she decided it was possible she was just being paranoid. She told him about her job and apartment and then her hours in the police station.
“Man, I hate police stations. I’ve spent way too much time there myself.”
“Really?”
He nodded. He stepped closer, and his hand came up to hold her waist, then slid down to cup her derriere.
She jumped, and he chuckled. “Skittish, eh?”
She swallowed. She was in way over her head. She didn’t know how to handle alcohol or men or life in the city. All she knew how to deal with was grieving families and funeral arrangements. And not one of the funeral mourners had ever touched her bottom!
“I think I may have given you the wrong idea. I think I should go back inside.”
He didn’t remove his hand. “Oh, no, baby, you have been giving me all kinds of good ideas.”
His fingers pulled at the hem of her skirt.
Panic stole her breath, but she forced herself to breathe, to stay calm.
“You—you know I really do have to get inside. That guy beside me at the bar—he’s my boyfriend. I—I was just trying to make him jealous.” She was grasping at straws, but it was all she could think of at the time.
Relief trickled through her as his fingers paused. But then he shrugged. “Baby, if he was worried about you, he wouldn’t have let you leave with me.”
His mouth came down roughly on hers.
She struggled, pushing at his chest, and he broke off the kiss, but used his free hand to grip her neck in a choking lock, shoving her hard against the wall.
Her mouth gaped open, but no sound came out and no air in. She was going to die.
Just then his hold relaxed slightly, and she managed to struggle in a hitched breath.
“Now, listen, baby.” His voice was hard and his boyish features contoured. “I ain’t had a woman in three years. So I don’t care if it’s all nice and friendly or if it’s rough. Cuz either way, I plan to fuck you.”
Black spots started to appear before her eyes. She couldn’t pass out. She didn’t think that would stop this guy.
The hand at her hemline moved to the front of her skirt and pulled it upward.
She had to keep him talking. Buy a little time.
“Thr-three years is a long time.” Her voice didn’t even sound like her own, breathy and shaking.
He grunted. “Ain’t too many women in the pen.”
It took her terrified brain a moment to grasp what he meant. This guy had been in prison! Fear shot through her. He might have done this before. He might have killed.
But she rallied her willpower, forcing herself to stay as calm as possible. “What—what did you serve time for?”
“This and that. All just labels. Unfairly given,” he assured her with a grin, his boyish smile now sinister.
She swallowed, struggling for another shallow breath. “That is terrible.”
“Well, I’m thinking what you’ve got under this skirt will go a long way to making me feel a whole lot better.” He had her skirt up around her waist, and again black spots flashed in front of her eyes. She was going to pass out. She closed her eyes and fought for air.
All of a sudden, Joey’s bruising grip was gone, and she was able to pull in a deep, lung-filling breath.
She opened her eyes. Joey wasn’t there, but she didn’t look around to see where he was. She ran, not seeing, just knowing she had to get back to the street, to the bar. Suddenly, she slammed into something solid, immovable.
Arms closed around her, and she screamed.
“Shh,” a deep, husky voice said. “It’s okay.”
She blinked up to see the beautiful stranger holding her. She sank against him, allowing him to support most of her weight. Relief churned with nausea in her stomach.
Suddenly he swung her up into his arms, turned and walked out of the alley. Once on the street, he stopped, but he still held her.
“Are you okay?”
Jane nodded, but didn’t speak. Her heart still pounded painfully in her chest while her breath came in ragged bursts.
He continued to hold her against his broad chest. His arms feeling so solid, so safe.
Finally, she calmed and realized that she must be getting heavy. “I’m okay to stand.”
He seemed almost reluctant to let her go, but he did lower her to her feet. Although he kept an arm at her waist as if he thought she might faint.
She wouldn’t—she didn’t think.
“Thank you. I—I can’t even think about