Asking for Trouble (12 page)

She put as much confidence into her stride as she could, as
much as was possible in high heels, kept her gaze straight ahead, and increased
her pace. Saw a group of guys ahead of her, hanging out in front of an
abandoned storefront next to a vacant lot, and decided to cross the street.
Traffic was moving faster than she’d realized, and she had to hustle to make it
before it caught up with her, was still hurrying when she got to the other
side.

She fingered the phone inside her little bag, wanting to
call Alec. She knew her brother would come pick her up, maybe faster than she
could get that cab. But Alec wasn’t home, she remembered with a sinking heart.
He and Rae were at a trade show in Las Vegas. And three of the guys who’d been
hanging out had split off from their buddies and crossed the street themselves,
headed towards her, and her unease was growing by the moment.

Better to turn around right now, walk back the other way
before they caught up. She’d seen a lit storefront down a side street, a block
or so back. Probably a liquor store again, but there’d be somebody in it. And
it would be warm.
She’d call from
there. Walking had been a very bad idea. She hurried, heard the catcalls from
behind her.

“Hey, pretty lady. Where you going? Don’t you want to
party?”

She didn’t look back, kept going. The lit doorway—it
was
a liquor store—was ahead of
her now, and she was ducking inside, the opening door giving out a mechanical
chime that was music to her ears.

She scooted around into the back of an aisle, pulled her
phone out of her purse, searched with shaking fingers for a cab company and
dialed the number.

“I need a cab at the corner of Larkin and . . .” she told
the dispatcher who answered. “Hold on a sec.” She went to the doorway again, peered
around for the street sign. “Eddy.”

“To where?”

“Inner Sunset.”

“Sorry,” the man said. “We don’t have anyone.”

“What do you mean?” She knew what he meant. That the ride
was too short, and her location too sketchy.

Dead air was her only answer. She could try another company.
But the guys who’d been following her were outside the store now, and she felt way
too vulnerable, way too trapped, so she retreated again. She could call Sherry,
but her roommate couldn’t exactly defend her from three scary guys. And they
were
scary, she admitted. She was
scared. So she did the only other thing she could think of. She called Joe.

“Alyssa?” It came out sharp. She’d been worried he’d be
asleep, would have the phone turned off. But he answered after the second ring.

“Joe? Could you come get me? I’m here. I mean, I’m here in
the City. Could you pick me up?” Her voice was shaking a little, cold or fear
or relief that he was there, she wasn’t sure which. Maybe all three. “Are you here
too? Around? Could you come?”

“Right now. Where are you?”

“Larkin and . . . and Eddy. It’s a liquor store. I’m
inside.”

“Ten minutes,” he promised. “Stay in the store.”

She shoved the phone back in her purse, some of the tension
leaving her and relief taking its place like oxygen, filling her lungs. Ten
minutes. She spent a few of them scanning the bottles lined up behind the
counter. The Tenderloin’s taste seemed to lean heavily toward fortified wine
and tequila. She’d pass.

“Lady,” the guy behind the counter finally said. “You going
to buy something, or what?” He pointed to a sign behind him.
No Loitering.

“I’m just waiting for a friend. I’ll be gone in a minute.”

“Buy or leave.” He pointed at his sign again.

“So call the cops,” she snapped. “I don’t see a line of
people trying to push past me to get to the Colt Malt Liquor. If you get a
sudden rush, I’ll get out of the way, how’s that?”

He didn’t look happy, but he subsided, contenting himself
with shooting her an evil glare. This wasn’t exactly her night.

She went over and stood by the door to wait. And attracted
the attention of the guys outside again, drew them into the store with her like
they were moths and she was the flame. The closer they came to the door, the
more she backed up, and by the time the chime rang out again as the glass door
closed behind them, she was all the way against the front counter where the
clerk sat.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” the one in front said, and she
recognized the voice, the one who had called out to her before. Tall, dark skin,
bad teeth, coming closer, crowding her, and she had nowhere to go. Another one
wasn’t talking, but she didn’t like the way he was looking at her. He was
shorter, squatter. The third guy hung back, not threatening her, but he wasn’t
exactly stepping up to tell the others to back off, either.

“You all. Buy or leave,” the clerk said again, and everyone
ignored him, and part of Alyssa wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but she
was fully frightened now. She slipped to one side, ducked around a beer island,
the guys coming around behind her, smiling, enjoying themselves. The tall one
put a hand on her arm, the breaching of her personal space like ice water in
her veins.

“We could get us some tequila, have us a little party,” he
said. His smile, the smile on his stubby friend’s face had her breathing in
gasps, fear and anger warring inside her.

She twisted her arm out of his
grasp. “Leave me alone.”

His smile only broadened, and he
took another step, forcing her to back up, closer to the doorway.
Come on, Joe. Where are you?

She looked outside, hoping to see him, somehow thinking she
could tell which headlights were his, but of course she couldn’t. Instead, she
saw a single light weaving amongst the traffic. A light that turned into a motorcycle
that jerked to a stop in the red zone out front, and the rider was off, knocking
the kickstand into place, and then he was up onto the curb, across the
sidewalk, long steps, moving fast.

He shoved up the visor of his helmet, and it was Joe, but
she’d known that as soon as he’d got off the bike, even though she hadn’t known
that he had a motorcycle. Dark jeans, black leather jacket, black helmet,
looking like an ad for the Big & Tall & Tough Store. Joe.

She hit the door, heard the chime behind her, and knew her
new boyfriends were following right along. Until they realized that she was
meeting the bike rider, because she could sense them slowing to a stop.

Joe barely looked at her, just reached for her arm and swung
her behind him. She peered around from the shelter of his broad back, saw the
three guys stopped halfway between the bulk of Joe and the liquor store
entrance, looking like they weren’t quite sure what to do next.

“You should take better care of your lady,” Tall Guy said at
last. “Not leave her all alone and lonely like that. She might get into
trouble.”

“I’m here now,” Joe said.

The guy laughed, showing his bad teeth. “What? You looking
for a fight? Three of us, man.”

“I’m not looking for anything,” Joe said, and she could see
his hands flexing, could sense the readiness in him, like he was poised on his
toes, even though he was standing solid. “But I’m happy to take anything that
comes my way.”

“Hey, man,” the guy said with a shrug, taking a half-step
back. “Just hanging out.” He turned, would-be casual, and the three of them sauntered
off, back to their pals, Alyssa presumed.

Joe stood still a moment, watching them go. Then he turned
to Alyssa. “You OK?”

“Yeah,” she said, her arms wrapped around herself, shivering
with cold and tension. “Just freezing.” She smiled, and could feel her teeth
chattering. She’d really thought he was
going
to fight. Three guys.

He unzipped the heavy jacket and handed it to her. “Put this
on.” He watched her struggle with the zipper for a minute, her fingers too
shaky for the task, then brushed her hands aside and zipped the jacket for her
as if she were a child. Then he took off the helmet and gave her that, too. “I
don’t have another one with me. Wear this.”

She hefted the weight of it. “Uh, Joe. I can’t ride a
motorcycle. Maybe you could just wait for a cab with me.”

“You don’t have to ride a motorcycle,” he said. “I’ll do the
riding. You just have to hold on.”

“I mean . . .” She tried again. “I’m wearing a short skirt.”

“I noticed.” He smiled suddenly, surprising her. “Looks
good.”

She laughed back in relief, so glad that he wasn’t mad at
her for hauling him over here, for putting him in this situation. “Well,
thanks. But . . .”

He took the helmet right out of her hands, fitted it over
her head. “Let’s go.” He walked over to the bike, swung a long leg over so he
was straddling the machine, planted his feet and held out a hand to her. “Put
your foot on the peg and swing on.”

She took his hand, tried to forget the fact that her
underwear was of the barely-there variety, found the footrest he was talking
about. Stepped onto it with one sandaled toe, abandoned all modesty, hitched up
her skirt, and swung.

Joe pulled out into the street, trying to calm himself down.
The residue from the flood of adrenaline had made him shaky, to his disgust, while
having Alyssa pressed against his back, her hands holding onto his shoulders, her
thighs so close to his own . . .
 
that had him reeling in a different
direction. As always with her, he’d lost the balance he worked so hard to
maintain. Lost it entirely.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever moved faster than he had when she’d
called. He’d been miles deep into the knotty problem that had kept him at his
desk hours after everyone else had left, grateful for the chance to work
without interruption. He’d been spending far too much of his time on the
administrative side of the business with Alec and Rae both gone for the week, and
that was on top of the normal back and forth with his staff of programmers. He’d
needed to get something
done.

But the complicated subroutine he’d spent hour after patient
hour debugging had flown from his head the moment his phone had chimed and he’d
looked down at his desktop to see her name on the screen. He’d been moving out
of his chair when he picked it up, out of the office by the time he’d hung up,
had broken a speed limit or two and done some pretty aggressive lane-splitting
to get to her.

But he’d made it, he reminded himself now. He’d made it,
though he still wished those dirtbags had stuck around to get their asses
kicked. Probably for the best, though he was having trouble believing it. It
had felt
like such a good idea at the
time.

He had the feeling that he needed to do something else now, though,
something besides just taking Alyssa home. He tried his best not to be
sensitive, not if he could help it, but he could tell how scared she’d been. It
had been there in the stiffness of her posture, her jerky steps when she’d come
out to meet him with those three assholes behind her. When he got scared, he
wanted to forget about it as fast as possible. But women didn’t. They wanted to
talk about it. What they
didn’t
want
was to go home and be scared some more there, alone.

And anyway, he didn’t want Alyssa to be scared anywhere. If
talking would help, she should talk.

He swung over to the curb once he’d turned onto Haight, the
street still buzzing even after midnight. He eased the bike to a stop and twisted
around so he could talk to her. “Maybe we should go warm up. Have some coffee.
Or tea,” he suggested. Women liked tea, especially when they were upset.

“Tea would be great,” she said from beneath the helmet,
shivering now that she wasn’t pressed against his back. He could see the
goosebumps on the smooth, bare thigh that lay against his own. She had to be
half-frozen. He knew he was.

“Swing off, then,” he instructed, and knew he shouldn’t be
sorry that he didn’t have a good enough view when she did. She pulled the
helmet off, and he took it from her, locked it with the bike, and took her into
the cheerful café, painted lime green inside and decorated with some artist’s unframed
abstract paintings, blocks of bold swirls and deep color. The space was thankfully
warm and half-empty, and he led her to a booth in the back, farthest from the
chill of the doorway, ordered her a tea and himself a cup of coffee, then sat
and looked at her for a minute.

She unzipped his jacket as her tight muscles relaxed in the
warmth, took it off and laid it over her lap, over her chilled legs. But once
she’d done it, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts and hugged herself.

It was no wonder she was cold. The little coat she had on
wasn’t doing much, and the sweater she was wearing underneath it was . . . Well,
it was a sweater, but it wasn’t exactly designed for warmth. Ruby red, which
would have been enough right there, but there was more. It was the part that
wrapped around somehow from the back to form a collar that really did the
business. The band that encircled her neck, fastened with two more little buttons
above the vee of smooth skin beneath.

That choker of vivid red around her throat, it was . . . it
was working. Combined with the short skirt and high heels, the shiny dark hair
swinging to her shoulders, she was a walking fantasy. And thinking of her alone
in the Tenderloin like that—it wasn’t a good thought.

“You have hair,” she said as soon as she’d warmed up enough
to talk.

He smiled at her. “Better? Or no?”

“Hmm.” She smiled a little herself, and he was glad to see
it. “Yeah. Better.”

He rubbed his hand over his stubbled cheek. “Should I shave,
too?”

“No,” she said immediately. “No, if you’re asking me.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m asking you.”

The waitress brought their drinks, and Alyssa thanked her,
polite even now, then sat and wrapped both hands around the cup for a minute,
warming herself.

“What happened?” he finally asked. “Going to tell me?”