‘She wants to walk.’

The man’s understanding expression aggravated Danilo, who got to his feet and tipped his head in acknowledgement. ‘I will be in touch.’

Her own life.

A life. That was what he wanted for his sister. It was to that end he had taken her to every top spinal expert, he had made himself familiar with every new piece of research. He would not give up, but he would ask her and she would agree with him.

She always did.

Frowning at his annoying inner voice, he waved away the driver who had got out of the limo to open the door.

‘I’ll walk.’

As he strode, hands dug in his pockets, along the pavement shining from the recent shower, he was lost in his own thoughts so he barely registered the sting of unseasonal hail that began to fall again, quickly covering his hair in icy, white fragments that clung to the dark strands. It was a typical British summer.

There were moments in life where a man was forced to face up to his failings, his weaknesses. He’d been in London the night that he’d faced his, the night of the accident that had robbed his parents of their lives and left his teenage sister in a wheelchair.

He should have been there, he should have been at the wheel of the car, and if he had things might have been different. He’d never know because he’d had a better offer, a night with a beautiful blonde in London. The excuse had come so easily.

Self-disgust churned in Danilo’s belly as he relived the moment when the police had finally tracked him down to the hotel room. By that point the city sky had been streaked with morning light and his little sister had been in a hospital bed in Rome fighting for her life for over seven hours. And she had been alone because their parents had been lying on a mortuary slab.

He’d put a night of casual sex ahead of duty to his family.

If he’d not been such a selfish bastard...well, who knew? Things might have turned out differently. Would his more youthful reflexes have made all the difference? He’d never know; that was his punishment. Compared to Nat, though, he’d got off pretty lightly and she’d done nothing to be punished for, but one thing he did know was that while he had breath in his body he would not stop searching for a cure for his sister.

It was the right thing to do, the only thing to do, he had no doubts. And yet...? His frowning contemplation of the wet pavement deepened as he trudged along it with the surgeon’s words—discuss it with her—floating around in his head. He kept picturing Nat’s face the last time her hopes had been raised by the promise of a miracle cure and then dashed. She’d looked so bleak.

He shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the doubts in his head. His little sister was the strongest person he knew and he had to stay strong for her, stay positive, and one day she would walk.

He was so deep in his own thoughts that he’d walked past the alley before he registered the sound: a woman’s cry, filled with fear. His response was hard wired—there was no question of walking on and pretending he’d not heard. A few seconds later he was at the entrance to the cobbled alleyway; the overhead street light illuminated the scene and seconds told him all he needed to know.

The guy had hold of the woman and she was trying to escape.

Danilo struggled to hold back the red mist that threatened. Bullies were a species that always challenged the objectivity he prided himself on. He could spot one at fifty paces, and like muscle memory the sight of a bully in action always awoke the fifteen-year-old in him, the one who had yet to enjoy a spectacular growth spurt that had seen him grow twelve inches in as many months and the musculature that went with it putting him safely beyond the attention of those creeps in life who looked for victims who were seen as weaker or different.

* * *

The man didn’t see him coming so he put up no resistance when Danilo took hold of his collar and physically dragged him away from the young woman. One glimpse of her pale face, too pale to be pretty—the cheekbones too sharp, the eyes too big, the mouth...actually the mouth was pretty good—cranked up his chivalrous levels several more notches.

She reminded him of Nat, not that there was any physical similarity. Nat was beautiful, not plain, and his sister was tall, not tiny. Still, he’d not been there for Nat when she’d needed him, but he was here now.

‘What the hell...?’

The guy let out a frustrated bellow, flailing wildly, his arms windmilling as he was set down on his feet yards away from the cowering figure of the woman. Apart from her, he didn’t look so big—and obviously he didn’t feel it either, when he turned and saw Danilo standing between him and his victim.

The aggression in the man’s face diminished significantly but the wariness in his eyes was mingled with calculation as he held out his hands and smiled.

‘This is a misunderstanding...’ He spoke while moving in a direction that would give him access to the woman now hidden from his view behind Danilo.

Danilo negated his ploy by shadowing the move before allowing his glance to linger on the scratch that was seeping blood on the guy’s cheek. Good for her, he thought approvingly.

‘I don’t think so. Do you want me to call the police?’ he asked the woman without taking his eyes off the other man.

‘I just want to go home.’

The hoarse little whisper had a heartfelt sincerity that didn’t help Danilo’s struggle to resist the impulse to shake the guy until his teeth rattled. Then she sniffed and he almost lost it. Instead he moved to her side.

‘Or a hospital?’

‘She’s fine. Police...?’ The falseness in the laugh grated on Danilo. ‘You’ve got it all wrong, mate. This was just a misunderstanding. You know how it is. Something and nothing—sweetheart.’

In a heartbeat Tess tipped from relief to outright panic. What if this man believed him? What if he left her alone with bonkers Ben?

‘I am not your mate.’

It wasn’t until her rescuer spoke in a voice that held a twenty-below chill that Tess realised she had grabbed his arm in a death grip. His words made her feel better, but just to be sure she didn’t let go; instead she tightened her grip and moved in closer.

‘And to answer your question, no, I do not know how it is to force myself on a woman.’

‘She’s mine...’

Ben’s voice made Tess’s skin crawl. She shook her head in mute rejection. The denial locked in her throat, all she could do was squeeze her eyes closed to avoid the stare of Ben’s cold, creepy eyes, but not before it had loosened the lid on the box in her head marked Don’t deal—lose, bury, forget!

The deeply buried memory that escaped was so clear that for one disorientating moment Tess was sixteen again, cornered by the man her mum was dating. Watching helplessly as he locked the door, his smile and his soft, oily voice making her skin crawl and her insides chill as he told her they could have some fun. Tess knew she was lucky she never found out what his idea of fun entailed because it turned out that sleazy creeps did not find it fun to have their victim throw up all over their expensive new shoes!

‘You know, it’s been a long day,’ the man beside her drawled.

She clung to the sound of his voice, focusing on the faint attractive accent, letting it drag her free of the memories that even now made her feel unclean, but most of all angry because she had felt weak and helpless. ‘And I am not interested in a debate. However, we could move this discussion to the nearest police station?’

There was a silence followed by footsteps. Tess focused on the clean male scent of the man beside her and let it wash away the memory of the sour scent—a combination of sweat and cheap fragrance—that had emanated from her stalker.

The sound of footsteps had faded before her rescuer spoke again. ‘He’s gone. You can open your eyes.’