Within minutes, he returns with a soda, a glass of water, and two more shots of tequila complete with lime slices. He finds her chair empty. Scanning the crowd, he searches for her long legs. Smack dab in the center of the room, he finds her dancing with another man. To see her with someone else is unsettling. He has no claim to her, but he'll be damned if she's hooking up with someone while she's on his watch.
What the hell does she think she’s doing? She just got out of prison. She’s drunk and she’s acting impulsively. He walks to the center of the dance floor and takes her arm.
“Dude, get your own date. She’s mine,” the stranger says in a Larry the Cable Guy voice.
“Fuck off, buddy, she came with me, and she’ll leave with me.” He guides her off the dance floor. He pulls out his badge and flashes it at the man coming toward him. Nothing stops a bully like a police badge. With his hand on her back, he guides her to the table. “I told you not to move. You’re drunk and men are assholes. That’s a bad combination. You need to stick close to me, so you don’t get hurt.”
“You’re a man, what’s makes you better than the rest? Who’s going to protect me from you?” Her soft blue eyes penetrate his soul. They seek out an answer he can't give her—an honest one. He's not better than the rest. In fact, he could be the worst possible scenario for her. On the other hand, maybe they are both what the other needs. It's something to consider, he tells himself.
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