Page 11 of See You Maybe

Fury pulsed through him as he pulled his arm back and slammed his fist into the other asshole’s jaw, throwing him backward into the crowd. Pints and glasses went flying as people turned angrily, launching themselves into the brawl. Shattering glass and screams echoed as the band came to an abrupt halt and customers fled out into the rain.

A blow to the side of his head rocked him to the side, and he tasted blood. Shoving those in his path out of his way, Declan frantically searched the room.

Where had she gone? He needed to make sure she was okay. He didn’t stop to ask why he had such an overwhelming urge, he just accepted that he did. The two men who accosted her were helping each other to the door... But the girl was gone.

“What the fucking hell?” Colum raged at him as he comped the people still in the bar, and shut the door, locking it. “You’re lucky no one called the Gardai, and it was almost closing time. You can’t fight customers.”

“They were going to rape her.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. She was wasted. She had no idea what was happening.”

Colum shoved a hand through his short hair and surveyed the damage. “Yeah, well, she’s gone now, and we’re left with a right mess.”

“I’ll clean it up.”

Colum arched a brow. “Prince Valiant is good with a broom and mop?”

“Fuck off.” Declan’s blood was still hot, but what bothered him the most was the feeling that he’d lost something. Which was ridiculous. He’d never even spoken to the girl.

It took him two hours to clean the bar. Colum had stayed for a bit to help, but after they’d cleared the broken chairs and swept up most of the broken glass, Declan insisted his cousin go home.

“I’ve got it, mate,” he said, taking a garbage bag from Colum’s hand. “Go home.”

Declan locked the door behind his cousin and finished cleaning the bar. He was on his way to the back door with the garbage bags when he heard a faint snuffling noise. He froze, listening.

It wasn’t unusual in these old buildings to have mice, but when the noise came again, he realized it was human and coming from the ladies’ bathroom. He sighed. Great, a straggler.

Declan pushed the door open slowly and ducked down to peer under the stall. A pair of black boots was visible, slumped against the opposite wall.

Shit, please don’t be an overdose.

He pulled at the door, but the latch was thrown. The snuffling came again.

Okay, still breathing. That’s a good sign.

“Oi! Pub’s closed. You need to come out.”

Declan’s annoyance grew when the person didn’t answer. He wasn’t in the mood for this shit. He slapped his palm against the door twice, the lock rattling loudly.

He heard a squeak and then a low moan. “Are you okay in there?”

A quiet voice muttered something that sounded like “worst party ever,” before the boots scraped against the floor, followed by the metallic snap of the latch.

It was her. Her eyes, a crazy, deep sapphire-blue were still bleary, but she didn’t seem quite as out of it as she had before. She lurched forward, gaze serious, her entire being focused on walking and staying upright.

“Pub’s closed.” He repeated, extending a hand to help her, but pulled it back when she just stared at it.

“Ow.” She grimaced. A hand rose to the side of her head.

Declan frowned at the angry welt marring her skin. His fingers reached out, and lifted her heavy hair away from her face before he was aware of what he was doing. She reared back, and their eyes met and locked. Her pupils flared wide with alarm.

Declan swallowed a curse and gestured at her injury. “You’ve hit your head.”

Her fingertips gingerly felt around her hairline. “I fell?” Her gaze lifted to his again, and she leaned backward as if she just realized how close they were standing. “I should go.”

“Where are you staying? You’re not in any shape to be wandering the streets of Dublin by yourself.”