Thirty-five minutes later, MacGyver was still sipping his second drink when the bartender set the eighth tequila shot on the table by the green-eyed lady. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her fight. Licking the salt from her hand, she gulped number seven with a quick motion that almost tipped her chair over. She was wasted.
The lime wedge she clutched in her left hand slipped from her fingers and slid down her chin. She lurched forward, apparently to catch it, missed, and, if her elbows hadn’t been braced on the table, she’d have done a face-plant right there. The biker boys, with the exception of the quiet one, were equally inebriated. They both snorted and sniggered, clearly satisfied with the direction things were going.
Was that why the congressman had wanted MacGyver to get her out of there? To rescue a drunk woman from the unscrupulous occupants of Wally’s Tavern? That wasn’t the type of work MacGyver had envisioned when Travis talked him into starting a private security company. They were damn sure going to rethink their client-vetting process.
Not five seconds passed before the bride jumped to her feet, slapped her hand over her mouth with a chest-deep groan and darted toward the bathroom. MacGyver had beenexpecting that, and it was about damn time. Hell, the woman must have a cast iron stomach. Seven shots and she could still walk. Well…sort of.
That was his cue. Time to go. MacGyver left the rest of his drink, dropped a few bills on the table and headed for the exit. With any luck, she’d stay close to the toilet for a while—long enough for him to get around back and crawl in through the men’s bathroom window. The first thing he’d done today, while waiting on the no-show, was to unlock the small, frosted-glass window and jerry-rig it so, hopefully, no one would notice. Yeah…he was paranoid like that, but old habits die hard.
The leader and the kid snickered, speaking in too-loud voices. The tall, muscular one kept an eye on the hallway that led to the bathrooms. He was the only one who took note of MacGyver as he left.
Travis’s rental car, a new blood-red Mustang, was parked along the semi-dark street a half block down. The guy didn’t know the meaning of inconspicuous. MacGyver fumbled for his phone, flipped to the text screen and typed IN THE ALLEY before hitting send. As he dashed around the corner of the building, he heard the car’s engine rumble to life.
The window was just as he’d left it. He had it open in a second and pulled himself up, dropping onto the yellowing, vinyl-covered floor without a sound. After peering out the door, he examined every shadowed corner before stepping into the alcove. Pressed against the wall, he could just make out the biker’s table, but the woman wasn’t in her seat. So far, things were going his way.
Across the hall, the women’s john was dimly lit and quiet as he turned the knob. MacGyver swung the door open just enough to enter, flattening himself against the wall. The putrid smell of vomit hit him like a force field.
Apparently she didn’t hear him enter. Bent over the sink with the faucet running full bore, she splashed her face with handfuls of water. Finally turning the spigot off, she leaned, one hand on each side of the sink, as though she didn’t have enough strength to stand on her own. The once-white dress hugged her back and hips to cascade sensually over her perfectly delectable ass, falling, in multiple lengths, just short of covering slim ankles.
On silent feet, MacGyver approached from behind. She must have heard him then or sensed his presence. Her head jerked up, and those gorgeous green eyes met his in the mirror, jolting him, and, for a moment, he nearly forgot why he was there. She whirled and opened her mouth, no doubt to scream, then closed it without making a sound. Considering who would have rushed to her aid, it was a decision MacGyver could get behind.
She backed away from him, leaning heavily on the counter. “What do you want? Get out. You’re not supposed to be here.” She spoke slowly, but her words still slurred.
MacGyver managed to suppress the irritation that threatened, continuing to advance one slow step at a time. “I thought maybe you could use a hand. You’re sick, you’ve had too much to drink, and, unless I’m reading you all wrong, I don’t think you want to rejoin your friends out there.” He watched her and spoke calmly, as though they were already friends who chatted frequently in the women’s john. “What’s your name, darlin’?”
She stopped, squared her shoulders and crossed her arms in front of her. “Well, it’s not darlin’, sweetheart.”
He raised one brow, and a grin broke free. “I’m Matt Iverson, but most of my friends call me MacGyver.” Holding out his hand, he waited.
She eyed his outstretched arm but made no move to touch him. The next instant, her hand flew to her mouth, and a groan vibrated through her. Stumbling to the toilet, she dropped to her knees on the filthy floor and proceeded to hurl her guts out. When she was finally reduced to dry heaves, MacGyver strode to the sink and soaked a thick pad of paper towels in cold water.
Behind him, the toilet flushed and another groan echoed off the walls of the twelve by twelve room. His mouth twitched at the corners, though he couldn’t help sympathizing. Her stomach was going to get worse before it got better, and tomorrow morning’s headache would likely be a doozy.
She was as still as death when he turned around, her forehead lying on the toilet seat. Hopefully, she’d passed out and wouldn’t remember any of this, or she’d probably scour all the skin off her face.
MacGyver knelt beside her, placing his free hand on her shoulder. She reared back, landing on her curvy little bottom, nearly toppling him over in the process. Bleary eyes met his for an instant before she covered her face and moaned.
As gently as he could, he peeled her hands loose and placed the wet paper towels in her palms. “Wipe your face. We need to get out of here before your friends come to see what’s taking you so long.”
Even buried in paper towels, the unladylike snort she issued was clearly audible. “We?I’m not leaving here with you.” She waved one hand at him dismissively. “If you’re planning to kill me, you’ll have to do it here. Believe me—you’d be doing me a favor.”
Smart ass.Anger tensed his jaw. “If I wanted you dead, you’dbedead.” He cupped her chin in his hand and turned her head so she couldn’t look away. “Youareleaving with me, even if I have to drag your ass. Maybe next time you’ll use your head and go somewhere else to socialize. Do you realize your friends out there aren’t going to let you go until you’ve paid big time for those drinks?”
Her lips thinned. “I don’t have much money, but they can have it all.” With two fingers, she pulled something not much bigger than a coin purse from her cleavage and jabbed it into his chest.
Shit!Drunk and naïve didn’t mix well. MacGyver rose, pulling her to her feet. He jerked the purse from her fingers, momentarily distracted by the pleasant warmth the article retained from its place of concealment. The smell of honeysuckle and rain permeated the fabric. The first hint of arousal slammed into him, catching him completely off guard, and angered him further.
With a snarl, he shoved the purse in his pocket. He gripped the woman’s upper arms and towered over her. “Honey, they wantsomethingfrom you for damn sure, but it’snotmoney.”
About three seconds passed while she stared at him with a quizzical tilt to her head before the light of understanding dawned in her eyes. She recoiled, and he released her arms, snagging her hand in his.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Without giving her an opportunity to object, he started for the door, dragging her along with him. He maneuvered the woman behind him and to his right before reaching for the knob. The next instant, someone banged on the other side.
“Hey, sugar. We’re gettin’ lonesome out here.”
The kid.Was he alone? Even if he was, he wouldn’t be for long. MacGyver turned back to the bride and put a finger to his lips, praying she could see him through the glaze covering her eyes. Seriously questioning his rationale for getting involved when this clearly had nothing to do with his case, he gripped her shoulders and backed her against the wall behind the door. Mouthing the wordsstay put, he positioned himself between her and the exit.