and prideful and had a furious temper—and he knew that after having been around her for less than three days.
That was enough of that shit.
He pushed to his feet and headed for the spiral staircase leading down to the main floor. Since it was a Tuesday night, the place was far from packed, but there was still a cluster of dancers sweating and grinding in the middle of the floor, and plenty of people standing around the lower bar, waiting for drinks. He scanned their faces out of habit, not really expecting anything but disappointment.
His gaze landed on familiar green eyes, and he stopped short. He had to be seeing things. It had happened before—he’d been sure it was her, only to approach and realize he’d been projecting her image on some other pretty brunette. But then she shook her head, like she was trying to dispel his image, and he knew. James took a step toward her, still having no fucking idea what he was going to say.
She turned tail and bolted.
He was giving chase before making a decision to do so. The voice of reason piped up to point out that running her down wasn’t going to do a damn thing to reassure her that he wasn’t up to no good, but it wasn’t like the had another option at this point. She wasn’t going to sit there and let him approach her.
That didn’t stop him from hauling ass through the doors and out into the street. He looked left and then caught sight of her further down the block, making impressive time considering the six-inch spike heels on her feet.
But he had the advantage on open ground.
James poured on more speed, closing the distance between them. She cast a panicked look over her shoulder, and it was almost enough to make him stop. Only the knowledge that he wouldn’t get another chance like this again kept him moving. That and something inside him that he was reluctant to put a name to. It felt a whole hell of a lot like the conscience he’d thought was dead and gone.
She was less than six feet in front of him. It was now or never. “For fuck’s sake, stop.”
“Leave me alone.”
He put on a burst of speed and hooked an arm around her waist just as they reached the corner, jerking her to a stop. “Hold on for a second.”
She drove her elbow into his stomach, and then slammed her heel into his toe. Even through his boots, he felt it. “Get off me.” Her struggles increased. “Let go!”
He let go, holding his hands up and gritting his teeth against the throbbing in his foot. “I’m sorry, okay. I just wanted to talk.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.” She glanced over her shoulder, checking to see if he had other men with him, or maybe looking for an escape route. “Goddamn it, I knew better than to come back here.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.” I never would have let them hurt you. But the words wouldn’t come. He might have stood back and let her and Callista Sheridan escape that night, but he could have done more. He’d taken the path that resulted in the least risk to him, and something horrible could have happened to either of them as a result.
She laughed, a low, broken sound. “You know, considering our history, I find that hard to believe.”
What could he say? She was right. In her position, he would have done more violence than an elbow to the stomach. Hell, he would have drawn a gun and put an end to the threat once and for all. But things with them were different. She damn well knew that he didn’t want her hurt, abduction or no. “No one laid a hand on you.”
“No, you just threw me in a trunk, and then tied me to a bed and—” She shook her head, drawing his attention to her mass of dark hair. “I don’t know why I’m still standing here. Stay the hell away from me.”
This was it. She would walk away, and it was entirely likely that he’d never see her again. He’d never see his album again. That’s the reason you’re here, dipshit. You’re not fawning over some woman, no matter how hot she is. She took something from you and you want it back. “Where is it?”
She stopped, but she didn’t turn back. “Where is what?”
“Don’t play dumb, lovely. It doesn’t suit you.” He