His to Save (Chicago Steam)

Chapter One

Neal

There she goes again. The pretty one. I hate that I have such simple words to describe her, but my mind these days, it’s a blur. But this one, she stands out like the sun on a rainy day, the warmth of her smile and kind eyes washing over the entirety of the street every time she passes on her way out of the sleek black limo.

In another world, I would’ve approached her, charmed her maybe. Held her hand, caressed her cheek, and been trusted to be close to her.

But I can’t do that anymore. I’m… I’m nothing. So, I shrink back into the shadows and watch, the cool October winds biting into my flesh as I stare out. I’m not looking forward to tonight out here on the streets. Even with the crowds around me, no one pays me any mind. My lips quirk a little as I watch a young guy, his black suit tailored to the nines, stride past me. He doesn’t even notice me as he moves down the sidewalk.

I could be that person again. Maybe. But why bother? This is what I am now. I nod at the suit as he shuffles past me, the phone at his ear bright and glowing in the rapidly darkening evening.

Her voice catches my attention tonight, perhaps because she’s out later than usual, her pretty face coiled into a frown as she leans against the limo. I can’t help myself. I take a few steps out of the shadow, my skin crawling as yet more professionals pass at close range. I prefer the shadows, where they can’t see me.

But now they do. If I had the time, I might’ve registered that no one seems that affected, other than myself, but that’s of no importance now. Something is wrong. I can see the distress on her face as she leans in and chats with her driver.

My lips do that thing again, the tightness, pulling at my cool cheeks. Her eyes are so bright, their ice blue nature so unusual and interesting that I can see her from here. Usually they appear soft, warm as she sweeps over the sidewalk on her way into the skyscraper at her back. But now, things are wrong. Her cheeks are hollow, her jaw clenched.

“You can’t do this; you know we’re almost there. The contract will be ready by the end of the week. I’m taking it home to finish it.”

Begging? I hadn’t pictured her begging anyone, not this woman who was so in control of everything. I lean in, my ears straining.

“No, don’t do that. I can send the limo now. Just promise me that you get in.” There’s something like fear in her tone. Or maybe, I think as I tilt my head, desperation. What an interesting development. Once upon a time, it had been my job to understand people, to read their bodies, and hers, it spoke of desperation or unhappiness. Why do my arms ache to do something about it so badly?

I see people all day long, not that they see me, so why this woman? Why now? I watch as she pounded on the roof of the limo, pushing a fake smile onto that lovely face.

Lovely… Yes, I liked that so much more than calling her pretty. She was lovely. I had always assumed she was in her late twenties, early thirties, by the way she moved and acted within her environment. There was a clear tie to money and success. I hoped she had both.

Something cold crept up my spine as she stared out after the limo pulling away, her fingers knitting tight against the long black coat she had recently started wearing. Her bright-blonde hair was tied up in one of those fancy buns that women always seemed to pull off so effortlessly, even if it looked like a confusing mess to me.

With a dejected sigh, she raised her chin and looked out across the street. Was she searching for someone or something? I followed her gaze but saw nothing. She was simply looking, a strange slip of vulnerability flickering over face as she did.

As if deciding something, she stepped off the curb and began to cross traffic on the main street of downtown Chicago.

She shouldn’t be walking home. No woman should. It was dangerous and cold. She couldn’t. She shouldn’t. My feet were moving down the sidewalk before I could stop myself, my layered puffy jacket tight across my chest.

Fear clogged my mind and washed away any concerns I might have had as I made my way down the sidewalk after her. I remained far back enough that I wouldn’t spook her. I wanted to make sure that she got wherever she was going safely. She shouldn't be here.

Darkness crept over us, and after a stream of buses cut between the woman and me, I grew frustrated. She was so far ahead now, the bob of her blonde nearly out of sight. Something deep in my gut twisted.

I needed to walk away; I should walk away. But I walked these streets every day, and I knew what this corner sometimes brought. There was another there, more aggressive than me.

Dangerous.

Too dangerous for her.

“Ma’am,” I said, my voice coming out an indiscernible croak. I cleared my throat, picking up to a slow jog. “Ma’am!”

She turned her head but didn’t see me. Maybe she wasn’t looking. Either way, danger continued to lurk.

A car suddenly swerved out in front of me, and I stopped short of slamming into the hood. “Get out of the way, you bum!” the man screamed.

I hovered there, trying to decide how to get around the car as quickly as possible. The driver made the choice for me though, shooting forward once more. But now, she was gone.

Maybe she was safe, I reasoned, standing there. I glanced down at my still-outreached hands. They were dirty. I always attempted to keep myself clean, but it was hard. This time of year was difficult for someone who spent most of their life living out of a bus. I rubbed my hands against my thighs, knowing that it would only make a small difference at this point.

I should turn around. I needed to get some food and go to bed. To forget about her.

I turned, slowly, my worn-out sneakers making no noise on the Chicago sidewalks. Just as I took my first step, I heard her scream. My decision was immediate, and I took off, my flannel shirt fluttering around me as I chased down the source of that scream. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, making my mind clearer than it had been for…I didn’t know how long.

The street veered off, and I could see her. One man was rifling through her laptop bag, and the other held her tightly against the smooth wall of the building behind her.

“Let her go,” I said. This time my voice echoed out, strong and defiant.

I could see the shock on her face, the relieved expression as they all turned to stare. The two thugs, whoever they were, had on ski masks and were dressed in plain black. One of them had a shining silver watch on one wrist. I could see it winking at me as he pressed her there.

The one holding the laptop bag dropped the case, holding the slender tablet in one hand as he approached me. “Get out of here, old man,” he said, his head tilting as he got closer.

I’m not an old man, I thought internally, right before I slowly raised my fists. “Let her go and drop the computer.”

The man closest to me laughed.

And something rose inside of me, sure and confident. “Last chance,” I offered quietly. The woman whimpered a little, and then the second man shoved her hard against the wall before approaching me as well.

“You should’ve kept walking.”

I wasn’t about to walk away. The woman had slid to the cement but appeared well enough. Her wide eyes were on me as she scrambled for the bag he’d thrown to the side. I hoped she’d whip out that fancy phone and call for backup. Because as much confidence as I had in my technique, there was no stamina to back me up.

Not anymore. Fuck.

My mind homed in on the first to reach me. He’d been the aggressive one, the one who’d been holding on to the woman.

“You first,” I said softly, surprised at the words but no less sure of them. The man was bigger than his friend, but he was slow. I could see it in the drag of his feet, the ham-sized fist that he’d cocked.

“Your funeral,” he said, stepping forward and throwing the first punch.

I dodged it easily, my legs bending and shifting with years of muscle memory. I shouldered into him, dropping him off balance before turning to his friend as he stumbled forward.

“Now you,” I said again.

The man must’ve sensed something, or perhaps he wasn’t the fighter of the two, because he immediately began to back away when I advanced. I lunged forward, grabbing his shirt easily, the first hook landing my fist into his jawline with a satisfying crunch. When he stumbled, I moved with him, bringing my knee up hard into his diagram, using my height as an advantage to send him toppling to the ground.

A higher, sharper voice rang out, “Behind you!”

I swiveled, my hand rising to block my face as I attempted to meet the larger man once again. He got in a small punch to my shoulder that knocked some wind from me before I regained my footing and blocked the next volley of hits.

He was sluggish though, and it was easy to find the timing of his hits, slipping my body into his and throwing him over my thigh. When his back hit the ground, he grunted and followed up that noise with a hard right hook.

His body locked up and then went still, his breath still rancid against my nose, even as I recognized that I’d knocked him out.

Standing slowly, I moved across the cement towards where the woman still sat, her eyes wide, legs scrambling to stand as I approached. I held my hands up. “Easy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Who are they?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I heard you scream and came to help.”

She nodded, her vibrant blue eyes still wide with shock. “Thank you.” She swallowed, curling her legs towards her body. “Thank you so much. I’m not sure what I would’ve done.”

My lips curled in a small smile, the movement unfamiliar to me now. I wondered if she noticed. “I’m glad I could help.”

Her pretty face changed in a breath, brows lowering for a moment. “Do I know you? You look so familiar.”

White-hot fear slashed through me. I was too close—too close. I needed to get away as quickly as possible. I had been stupid thinking I could speak to her. Settling my heart, I pushed a calm look to my features as I shook my head lightly. My beard, overlong and itchy after the heat of the fight, itched faintly. I rubbed a hand up over it and my lips, using the motion to hide any lingering anxieties. “I don’t think so, ma’am.”

She nodded, but I could see the response was born of someone offering polite latitudes, not so much that she believed me. That brain… It was beautiful as the rest of her. I should go now, while she was trying to get up. I could hear the police sirens in the background and subconsciously knew they were coming here. My eyes flickered to her watch. It made sense they were coming. A woman like her wouldn't be far from the resource to call for help.

Maybe I wasn't even needed, a sick, thin voice echoed in my head. Shaking myself, I ignored it and reached a hand down to help her to her feet. She took my assistance gracefully, even as I gritted my teeth against the lovely soft skin of her palms. My hands would get her pretty skin dirty, but that couldn’t be helped. Not when I couldn't stand another moment of her sitting in the gutter like that. She was so close to me when she stood up, the sweet smell of her perfume settling over my nose as she smiled up at me. God, she was stunning.

Walk away.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” she said.

Walk away, my brain screamed again.

I shrugged, forcing myself to take a step back away from her. It was hard when she looked at me with that smile, which reminded me what life used to be like—what I used to be like. I shook my head, taking another slow step away. My mouth opened to offer a goodbye as the sirens sounded louder and louder in the evening air.

But my body froze, a strange, pulsing coldness making me aware that something wasn’t right. That I was weak, my already tortured body failing as I stumbled forward. I could see the beautiful stranger's face go stark white, her head turning to scream something at the crowd of people who descended on us.

But I was past the point of caring. My knees folded involuntarily, and I was falling, my body curling as my knees snapped against the cement and my eyelids fluttered shut one last time.

I had lived my life as a selfish bastard. But at least I could die knowing I had done one last good thing. Maybe I would be forgiven then.

Soft hands pressed into my cheeks, my forehead, and then darkness swallowed me whole.