"Don't set me away," she told him when he again tried to see her face. "My shirt is ripped, remember? I'm using you for a shield."

Amazing that she could keep it together given all that had happened. But the way she kept it together bothered him. She held on to him, she'd kissed him back, but, d.a.m.n it, he felt...something. Some distance. Some trumped-up facade of self-possession.

For their onlookers?

Or for him?

"Yvette..." The timing sucked, granted. And still he wanted to strip away that cloak of untouchable poise.

She patted him. "We've caused enough of a buzz without me flashing the ma.s.ses."

And enough of a buzz without him forcing issues better left for privacy. "G.o.d, honey, you're destroying me."

She went still at that, so he sighed and figured he'd just have to set her straight as soon as he got her alone. And thinking of that... He turned his head, searching. "Where's Heath?"

Armie looked at where he'd been, but a sea of bodies now filled the s.p.a.ce.

"d.a.m.n it." Armie stomped off in that direction just as police sirens split the night.

Accompanied by two uniformed officers, Detective Logan Riske made his way through the throng.

It all went downhill from there.

Yvette felt like the Pied Piper as they all went back into Rowdy's bar, followed by the customers. Armie had given her his shirt to cover her torn one, but she was still a mess, still the center of whispers and curious stares and speculation. She hated it.

Cannon had asked all the onlookers to back off, and he'd stated there would be no more pictures.

With mumbled apologies, the crowd dispersed.

Even during this new crisis, the respect he got from those around him made her proud.

Rowdy led the way into the break room, pulling out a chair for her at the long table.

Cannon sat beside her. Armie stood off to his side.

Both Detective Riske, who also just happened to be Rowdy's brother-in-law, and Officer Huffer remained standing.

Rowdy set out cups of coffee for everyone, then got an ice pack for her arm.

When she ignored the coffee, Cannon put it in her hand. "Drink some." The idea of consuming anything made her stomach pitch, but he seemed so upset that she agreed just to appease him.

But that, too, had him grinding his teeth.

Her position was so untenable that she wasn't sure what to do or say. She felt it, how all the men watched her. Their concern burned her from the inside out, leaving her face hot and her throat tight.

Why had she gone outside?

Mindi. Jealousy and hurt had blunted her better judgment.

Why hadn't she immediately run from Heath?

Arrogance. She'd truly thought, with others around, that she could keep her dignity intact and just walk away.

So, so dumb. And now all this fanfare. Why hadn't she- "A little more," Cannon said, again pressing the sweetened coffee into her shaking hands.

"Thank you." Feeling like a complete spectacle, she dutifully sipped.

Silence filled the room until Cannon stood and went to Logan. She could hear the hushed voices, but not exactly what was said.

Whatever it was, the room began to empty. On his way out, Armie squeezed her shoulder, bent to put a kiss to the top of her head.

Rowdy said, "If you need anything, just let me know."

"Thanks." Cannon reclaimed his seat beside her, halfturned toward her. His knee b.u.mped her thigh, his right hand rested on her shoulder.

Officer Huffer said nothing, just carried his coffee and silently left.

With his free hand, Cannon held the ice pack to the darkening bruises from where Heath had gripped her.

She thought of it, how scared she'd been, how stupid she felt now, and tears threatened. Gulping air, she fought them off.

Cannon's big hand opened on her back, gently rubbing.

She hated it, all of it. The careful concern. The worried gazes. The coddling. Why did she have to keep being a victim?

"Tell me what happened," Logan said. "Take your time, and don't leave out any details."

Nodding, she went through the entire story, explaining how Heath had approached, how he'd whisked her away, not stopping until he'd reached his car.

One question after another interrupted the telling.

Yes, she'd tried to leave, but he'd restrained her, pleading with her before going into a rage.

No, no one had seemed to notice or care that he was practically dragging her along. Perhaps they'd thought her drunk. Or just didn't want to get involved.

Yes, he'd tried to put her in his car. That was how her arm got bruised, her shirt ripped.

Everything had happened so fast.

She told them how Armie had checked on her and about her promise to come right back in.

She hadn't known about Mary until Cannon explained how he knew there was a problem, why he'd gone in search of her.

When next Yvette saw her, she'd thank her.

Oh, the irony in that.

d.a.m.n it, she would not continue to be this pathetic.

Lifting the foam cup, she finished off the coffee. It wasn't easy, but she forced herself to sit a little straighter, to stop avoiding eye contact.

"Is there anything else?"

"Yeah." Logan propped a hip on the edge of the table. "You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Somehow she would make it so, because sniveling was out of the question. "Thank you for coming out. I'm sorry-"

"None of that." Logan's voice was kind but firm. "Huffer joined in interviewing witnesses. I already put out an ATL."

When she shook her head, not understanding, he clarified, "Attempt to locate."

"Do you think they'll find him?"

"Depends on what he does. We have his car make and model, a good description of him. And Cannon says he's injured."

"Dislocated shoulder," Cannon said without inflection. "Broken nose, hopefully busted ribs."

With a noncommittal sound, Logan drank more coffee. "So he'll need medical care?"

"Probably."

Logan waited, a brow raised.

"I know how to put my shoulder back," Cannon said. "Nose, too. Ribs just need to heal. But he's not me."

Yvette stared at him, horrified. No, Heath wasn't even close to being Cannon. But he was insane.

Logan just rolled with it. "Okay, so we'll alert the major hospitals, but if he goes directly to an urgent care facility..." His shoulder lifted. "The thing with an ATL is that an officer has to actually come across him. He doesn't have a known residence here, we aren't sure where he's been staying, so if he lies low, could be hard to catch up with him."

Cannon watched her. His enigmatic gaze kept her from knowing his thoughts. He was...intense, but with anger? Concern? She just couldn't tell.

Logan wanted her to go through the story again, just to ensure the details stayed the same and she hadn't forgotten anything.

Telling it a second time wasn't any easier.

"It'll take a couple of days for the arrest warrant." With the cup now empty, Logan crushed it and tossed it toward a garbage can. "Did you have an RO against him in California? If so, we need to notify them."

Another blank look from her.

"Restraining order," Logan explained.

"It didn't seem necessary. He..." She hated having to defend herself. "He wasn't like this, that is, this extreme, until after I left. I could just ignore him."

"Not anymore." He looked from her to Cannon and back again. "It's a good idea if you don't stay alone."

Cannon pushed back his chair. "She won't be."

CHAPTER TWENTY.

Cannon didn't want to leave, not even for a second. But he also refused to leave her unprotected.

They'd only been in the break room for forty-five minutes-less than an hour that had felt like ten as he listened to her quavering voice, saw her shaking hands and witnessed her humiliation.

She didn't understand that no one blamed her. Because she blamed herself.

No one expected her to keep it together either.

But she did.

He followed Logan as far as the door, thanking him again. It was a good thing to be friends with cops.

The bar crowd hadn't thinned out much. Even from the break room he could hear the boisterous laughter and loud talking. Someone played the jukebox; beer bottles clattered. He rubbed the bridge of his nose but quickly made up his mind.

"Stay put a minute."

Twisting around, a little panicked, she asked, "Where are you going?"

"I'm not leaving." Yet. "You'll stay here?"

She looked wounded that he had to ask. "Yes."

Nodding, he left the room to search for Rowdy and found him in the kitchen. "I need a favor."

Drying his hands, Rowdy nodded and stepped aside with him. "You want me to put out some feelers?"

What the cops couldn't find through legal channels, Rowdy could usually manage...the other way.

"Yeah, I do. But I'll also be doing my own thing."

"Neighborhood watch?"

He nodded. "Can you stay with her while I go get Armie? Then I'll just need ten minutes to get things lined up."

"Not a problem." Knowing time was short, Rowdy started off.

Cannon stopped him with a hand on his arm. "She's..." Stoic beyond reason. "This is..."

"I know." He squeezed Cannon's shoulder. "Hustle it up, okay? No matter what she says or does, she needs you a lot more than she needs anything else."

With the red haze of rage still pulsing through his veins, Cannon wondered if that was true. As far as he could tell, Yvette resented needing anyone-him included.

But thinking about that right now was a major distraction from what needed to be done.

He found Armie exactly where he expected him to be: in a huddle with the other guys, making plans. They were outside together, standing far enough away from the cops not to be overheard.