Page 2 of Saved By the Billionaire

“And who the hell do you think you are?” the other one demanded.

Roman twisted the first creep’s wrist up his back, then grabbed his other one, restraining him easily. The woman at his feet groaned. She clearly needed medical help.

The other jerk off apparently decided Roman had his hands too full to defend himself, and launched at him, but Roman spun easily, using the weedy guy he was restraining as a barrier, while kicking out one leg and tripping his would-be attacker. He fell to the ground with a curse, his face hitting the bitumen hard. Roman moved quickly, pulling off his belt and using it to tie up the guy’s wrists, then kicking the back of his knees so he crumbled to the ground. It was satisfying to watch him struggle against the restraints, to attempt to get back to standing with his hands pinned behind his back. But the other loser was already stumbling to have another go at Roman. This time, Roman didn’t hesitate to strike back. As soon as the guy had connected a fist to Roman’s face, he followed suit, an expert in knowing how to hit to subdue without causing serious damage. He watched with satisfaction as the man fell to the ground. A moment later, he was reaching into his pocket, removing his phone and calling his head of security.

“Ping my location,” he said. “Get here, now.”

There was no need to say anything more. Garrett had been working for him for a decade. The other man would know that if Roman was calling at this hour, it was urgent.

He crouched down now, giving his attention to the woman, his eyes taking in the pale honey colour of her complexion, the bruising around her jaw and collarbone, the fact one of her shoes appeared to be missing. Hair that might have been in a braid at one point was now loose and untidy, as though it had been pulled. He ignored the tightening in his gut, the inevitable anger that surged through him at the idea of these men having done this to her—to anyone. At what those men did to his sister.

Creeps one and two were lucky he hadn’t killed them. They weren’t the men who’d ruined Grace’s life, but they might as well have been.

“Can you tell me your name?” he asked.

She blinked, looking at his face as though trying to focus. As though her eyes—or brain—were damaged.

He swore quickly.

“No—I mean, yes.” Her throat shifted in the moonlight as she swallowed. The guy on the ground groaned, and the other one asked him if he was okay. Roman’s lips formed a grim line.

“Don’t move,” he said to the two men. “Don’t give me a reason to subdue you further.”

He kept his eyes on the young woman, even as his senses—honed over years of living the way he had as a kid—were calibrated to notice the slightest shift in the thugs behind him.

“Help’s on the way,” he said, reaching out and taking her fine-boned hand in his. Her nails were neatly trimmed but not manicured. “Just stay still.”

But she did the opposite of that, moving as if to sit, face awash with renewed fear.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, quickly. “You need to stay still until you’ve been assessed.”

“I can’t—you didn’t call an ambulance, did you?” She blanched, face going paper-white beneath her bruising. “Or the police?”

He frowned. “No.” There was no need. Not only was Garrett his head of security, he was a former paramedic. It had always made sense to Roman to have someone on his staff who could take care of any and all contingencies—another lesson his childhood had taught him, he supposed.

“I can’t—” she pressed a hand to her forehead. “I can’t go to hospital. They’ll send me home. They’ll send me home. And I’m not finished yet. I need to find him.” She was rambling incoherently, but her fear was evident, so too the fact she spoke with an Australian accent. “Thank you for your help, but I’m okay now,” she said, pulling her hand away and bracing her palm against the wall, pushing to standing. Her knees buckled immediately. She would have fallen to the ground in a slumped pile if Roman hadn’t caught her, his strong arms sweeping beneath her and cradling her to his chest rather than letting her hit the ground.

“You likely have a concussion,” he said, confidently. He’d seen enough to know. “And who knows what else. You need medical attention.”

“No, I’m okay. I’ll be okay. I just want to get out of here.”

A car slowed to a stop at the top of the alley; a door opened and Garrett stepped out.

Roman began to walk swiftly, still holding the woman to his chest, decision made instantly.

“Please, put me down,” she said, but her eyes were blinking heavily, as though she couldn’t keep them open.

“Deal with them,” Roman commanded, as Garrett opened the front passenger door to the dark SUV. “Then come to my place.”

Garrett’s eyes swept over the woman; he nodded once. “Hospital?”

Roman considered that. Normally, that’s what he would have suggested. But there was something in her frantic cries, something in the way she’d insisted she couldn’t go, that had gotten through to him. He understood fear, and a person doing what they thought was best, even when it made no sense. “No.” He reconsidered. “Not unless it’s absolutely necessary. See you soon.”

Garrett nodded his agreement.

“Oh, and Garrett?” Roman said, as he stalked around to the driver’s side of the car. “They attacked her. If I hadn’t come along, it would have been worse. See that they’re dealt with accordingly.”

“Got it.”