Page 34 of Her Reluctant Hero
“Dude.” Alex laughed drunkenly, holding up his hands in apology. His eyes narrowed, not missing anything. Like the frustration on Henry’s face.
Henry shoved him out of the way and bolted past him to Isabella, who, Jesus, was coming back this way, her eyes huge, and damn, he thought he could see her knees shaking in that short dress.
“I’m sorry, Henry, I have to go. My brother came to find me,” she was babbling.
“Her brother?” demanded the girl Henry had been talking to. “She was screwing her brother?”
God save him from loud-mouthed women. Alex ducked past Henry, grabbed Isabella’s arm, and started to run. With a roar, the security guard followed. Alex pushed Isabella ahead of him, putting his body between hers and danger, through the crowded hallway, into the club, onto the dance floor. He could feel her heart hammering.
She was going to fall. Only his hands on her waist kept her upright, only his pressure on her kept her moving forward through the crowd that didn’t want to part for her, that cast her dirty looks she caught in her peripheral vision because he was pushing her, but holding her up at the same time.
She realized she was heading toward the very alcove she’d been trying to avoid earlier, and she tried to steer away, but the crowd, and Alex, wouldn’t let her.
Even though she was looking straight into Santiago Saldana’s light eyes.
