She cried out when someone tried to turn her over, the sound not unlike the keen of a wounded animal. Instinctively she curled herself into a ball to make a smaller target, though for the life of her she couldn’t fathom why someone was trying to hurt her.
The music was still playing, the vibrations of the bass were hammering into her head like a sledgehammer. Someone was talking, but it sounded muffled, wrong. A bright light shone in her eyes and she tried to bat it away. Then she had the feeling of movement, right before the blackness claimed her.
Chapter Three
Michael was enthralled, unable to take his eyes off the woman. He was quite sure they hadn’t met before; he definitely would have remembered the exotic-looking redhead. She hadn’t even noticed him behind the bar, which gave him a chance to study her. Not old, but she was no kid. A full, lush figure. And totally out of her element – she looked scared stiff.
And then she’d spoken, and he knew he had been right. Her voice was soft and gentle, completely at odds with the lusty harem girl costume.
All traces of uncertainty vanished, though, when she took the floor. There was no hesitation in her movements, just sensual, hypnotic beauty. He barely moved during her entire performance, unwilling to turn away even for a moment.
“Her name is Maggie,” Sherri said, when she joined him at the bar. Michael’s rapt attention hadn’t escaped her. “Maggie Flynn.”
“She’s incredible.”
“Yeah, she is, isn’t she?” Sherri said thoughtfully as Maggie worked her way around the room. “This will be good for her,” she mused.
“Yeah, why’s that?”
Sherri fingered the glass Michael had placed before her. “She has no self-confidence.”
Michael looked again at the beautiful woman dancing with total abandon, casting a spell over all of them, then tore his eyes away to cast Sherri a doubtful look.
“No, I’m serious. She’s become a total recluse ever since...” she stopped mid-sentence, clamping her lips together.
“Since...?” he coaxed.
Sherri shook her head. “Forget I said anything. Mags would be mortified if she knew I said anything.”
“I won’t tell.” Michael pinned her with those hypnotic blue eyes, leaned in a little closer, practically whispering the words as if they would be sharing an intimate secret. It was beneath him, he knew, to manipulate her like this. He usually left that kind of thing to his brothers. But something about the redhead intrigued him. He wanted to know more.
Sherri stared into his eyes, transfixed, then shook herself free with a little extra effort. “Oh no, you don’t,” she chided. “If you want to know, you find out for yourself.”
“Come on, Sher. Help a poor guy out here, will you?”
She laughed and slid off the stool. “No way. Maggie’s the best friend I’ve ever had and I’m not vapid enough to jeopardize that, not even for the likes of you, Michael Callaghan.”
Sherri left to prepare for her next number. Michael continued to watch Maggie even as she left the tiny stage. She was out of the sight of everyone else, but from the back of the bar he could see her perfectly. The look of pure joy on her face was something to behold, and he found himself smiling right along with her.
She didn’t seem to notice that the back edge of the stage ended abruptly. He knew what was going to happen an instant before it actually did. He vaulted over the far end of the bar even as her foot stepped off the stage and into nothing. She clawed at the air, twisting her body instinctively in an attempt to protect herself as gravity did its thing. She couldn’t have known about the extra tables they had moved back there.
Michael reached out, but he was a step too late. The side of her head slammed against one of the tables, the rest of her body following milliseconds later, literally bouncing with the force of contact. Her big eyes, wide with fear, looked right into his face as he bent over her, but she didn’t acknowledge him at all before they closed and her body went limp.
A quick check assured him she had no broken bones, but she was going to have one hell of a bump on the side of her face. Lifting her carefully, he took her back to the kitchen and placed her gently on the padded bench seat there, then turned on the lights to take a better look.
Her mask had dislodged in the fall. Blood, matching the shade of her dark ruby hair, trickled along the side of her face where she had hit, creating a goth-like image against her pale, creamy skin and dark kohl liner. Satisfied that none of her injuries were immediately life-threatening, Michael covered her with a warm blanket and kneeled beside her to begin the task of gently cleaning away the makeup she had so artfully applied to expose and properly treat the wound.