Passion in Secret. Catherine Spencer

      But the temperature had dropped well below freezing, and he wasn’t in the best shape. Jake’s playing Good Samaritan would take all of five minutes. He could be back before Sally had the chance to miss him.

      More important, he’d be able to sleep that night with a clear conscience. He’d been young and stupid himself, at one time, and felt for the poor kid whose troubles had only just begun. By morning, he’d be nursing one mother of a hangover!

      He zipped up his jacket and fished the car keys out of his pocket. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll drive you.”

      “That’s okay. I can walk.”

      “You can barely stand, you damn fool!”

      The kid started to cry. “I don’t want my mom to see me fallin’-down drunk. She’s not gonna like it.”

      “If you were my son, I wouldn’t like it, either.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the building behind. “But I’ll bet money she’d rather have you passing out at home, than winding up as roadkill when that lot in there decide to hit the highway.”

      If she hadn’t been so preoccupied, she might have noticed the man sooner. But by the time she realized she’d become the object of his attention, he’d lurched onto the bench beside her and slung a sweaty arm around her shoulders. “Lookin’ for company, babe?”

      “No,” she said, recoiling from the foul breath wafting in her face. “I’m with someone.”

      He made a big production of swinging his head to the left and right, and then, with a drunken guffaw, peering under the table. “Don’t look that way to me,” he snickered, lifting his smelly T-shirt to scratch at the hairy expanse of blubber underneath. “Looks to me like you’re all on your little ol’ lonesome, and just waitin’ for Sid to show you a good time.”

      “No, really! I’m with…my boyfriend. He’s just gone….” Where, exactly, that it was taking him so long?

      “To take a leak?” Sid chortled and reached for her untouched beer.

      Good grief, could the clientele possibly have sunk even lower than the last time she’d set foot in this place? Revolted, she shrank into the corner of the booth, as far away from him as she could get, and made no effort to disguise her abhorrence.

      Big mistake! Sid’s eyes, close-set and mean enough to begin with, narrowed menacingly. He slid nearer, pressed his thigh against hers. “Wha’samatter, honey? Think you’re too good for a stud like me?”

      “Not at all,” she said, averting her face. “I’m sure you’re a very nice man.”

      “Better believe it, babe.” His hand clamped around her chin, and forced her to turn and look at him again. He shoved his face closer, licked his lips. The fingers of his other hand covered her knee. Began inching her skirt up her leg. “Better be real friendly with Sid, if you know what’s good for you.”

      Oh, God! Where was Jake?

      Sid’s fingers slid under the hem of her skirt. Crawled over her knee. Someone plugged another selection in the juke box: Patsy Cline singing “Crazy.”

      How appropriate! Unable to help herself, Sally giggled hysterically.

      Sid squeezed her thigh. “Tha’s better, babe! Treat me right, and I’ll make you feel real good.”

      By then, so unnerved that she could barely breathe, she seized on the first escape possibility that occurred to her. “Dance with me,” she said, praying he wouldn’t hear the terror crowding her voice. Praying that he was too clumsily drunk to realize until it was too late that the only thing she wanted was to get out of the confining booth and put some distance between him and her.

      “Sure thing, babe!” He grinned evilly and, with bone-crushing strength, hauled her bodily off the seat and into his arms, and pinned her like a butterfly against him.

      At least, though, his hand was no longer creeping up her thigh! At least she stood a better chance of distracting him long enough to wriggle free. And if that didn’t work, she could scream for help and stand a reasonable chance of being heard by the other bodies crammed on the dance floor.

      “Start enjoyin’, babe,” Sid grated. “Ain’t no fun dancin’ with a corpse.”

      If he’d left it at that, she might have survived unscathed. But as added inducement, he stuck his tongue in her ear. Repelled beyond endurance and unmindful of the consequences of her action, she responded by lifting her knee and ramming it full force in his groin at the same time that she raked her fingernails down his face.

      He roared like a wounded bear, reared back and landed a vicious slap to the side of her head. The grimy silver ball rotating from the ceiling swung crazily in her line of vision. The faces of the people around her tilted; their voices merged with coarse laughter into a cacophony of unintelligible sound.

      Dazed, she lifted her head and saw his fist coming at her again. Pain cracked against her cheek in a burst of fire. She crumbled to her hands and knees on the filthy floor. Tasted blood, warm and salty on her tongue. Felt him grab her by the hair. Savagely yank her to her feet again.

      Then, as suddenly as he’d latched on to her, he backed away, felled by a blow from behind. Jake, his face a distorted mask of white fury, his eyes blazing, swam into view.

      A woman nearby screamed, someone else swore. Needing no better excuse to start a fight, half the men in the room joined in the fray, indiscriminately landing punches on whoever happened to be handy. But they gave Jake a wide berth. Drunken hoodlums though they might be, they had no wish to tangle with a man wielding a cane like a shillelagh and clearly willing to crack the skull of anyone foolish enough to challenge him.

      Weaving his way to her through the pandemonium, he reached an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Up to that point, she’d been too focused on defending herself to give in to the terror screaming along her nerves. Surviving the moment had been the only thing of import. But at his touch, at the cold, clean scent of him and the solid reassurance of his body shielding hers, she fell apart completely.

      “I thought he was going to kill me!” she sobbed, burying her face against his neck.

      He stroked her hair, murmured her name, and oh, it felt so good to be held by him again. So good to hear the old tenderness creep into his voice. Despite all the chaos and din pulsing around them, he created a tiny haven of safety she never wanted to leave.

      He was of a more practical turn of mind. “Let’s get out of here while we still can,” he muttered, hustling her toward the door. “Things are going to get uglier before the night’s over.”

      Just as they reached it, though, the door flew open and half a dozen police burst into the room, making escape impossible. “Hold it right there. Nobody leaves until I say so,” the officer leading the pack ordered, and even in her shocked state, Sally recognized him as one of those who’d been first on the scene, the night Penelope had died.

      He recognized her, too, which was hardly surprising, given the amount of publicity the accident had received in the local news. “Not you again!” he said, on an exasperated breath, as his colleagues set about restoring order. “Gee, lady, how many times does it take before you learn your lesson and stay away from places like this?”

      “Never mind the clever remarks,” Jake said. “She needs to see a doctor right away.”

      The officer eyed her appraisingly. “As long as she’s still on her feet and able to walk, it’ll have to wait,” he finally decided. “I’m taking you both in, along with every other yahoo in the place.”

      “I’m the one who called you to begin with, you fool!” Jake snapped. “If you want to harass someone, go after the guy behind the bar who makes a habit of serving liquor to minors. Or the lout over there, with the bloody nose, who gets his kicks out of beating up women half his size. We’ll be pressing assault charges against him, in case you’re interested,