My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 553

Before the words were even out of his mouth, the man took a heavy kick right in the stomach.

A voice, low and simmering with anger, barked, “Get lost!”

He cried out in pain, flying backwards a good six or seven feet.

Emily Blair was still being held by the back of her neck. Dizzy and disoriented, she stumbled in the direction the attacker had come from, dragged along in his grip.

A large hand, rough and unyielding, suddenly closed around her waist, yanking her upright with force that brooked no argument.

The world spun wildly before Emily’s eyes, making her squeeze them shut. When she dared open them again, all she saw was black.

It was Andrew Lane’s black suit, right in front of her.

Shakily, Emily tried to clear her head. She reached up, grabbing a fistful of fabric.

“Emily Blair.”

Someone was calling her name.

She blinked up at the man before her, eyelids heavy, gaze unfocused. “Who are you? Can you take me home, please?”

Without warning, she buried her head in his chest, her arms winding around him like tentacles, cheek pressed against his shirt.

“Please take me out of here. My head’s spinning…”

Andrew Lane’s voice was taut, clipped with anger and restraint. “Emily Blair, do you even know who I am?”

She frowned, impatient, and smacked his back with her palm. “Stop talking so much. Didn’t you just say you were taking me to a hotel?”

Behind them, the man who’d been kicked was struggling to his feet, still pale with fear of Andrew but suddenly brightening at Emily’s words.

“You’ve got the wrong guy! It’s me—I'm right behind you. I’ll take you to the hotel.”

His tone dripped with false sweetness, eyes glued greedily to Emily’s delicate profile as he swallowed hard.

Andrew Lane pressed Emily’s head back to his chest, not letting her turn around, his gaze dark and dangerous as he stared down the other man—a panther in midnight, waiting to strike.

The kicked man, seething with rage, pounded the floor. “Are you kidding me? It was him! He kicked me! You should be dealing with him, not me!”

He jabbed a finger at Andrew Lane, shouting, “He’s the one you want! Not me!”

The rest of the bar fell silent, all eyes fixed on the unfolding scene.

The man kept spewing curses, but the security guards simply exchanged a glance. In one smooth motion, they moved in, pinning his arms and legs, stuffing a bar towel in his mouth for good measure, then hauling him toward the door.

Under the stunned and uneasy gazes of the crowd, the man was unceremoniously thrown out onto the street.

For a moment, the noisy bar was dead silent. Every patron glanced, wide-eyed, toward the center of the storm—toward Andrew Lane.

Just then, the familiar figure of the bar owner hustled over from the back, all smiles and deference, bowing his head as he addressed Andrew.

“Mr. Lane, I’m terribly sorry. I had no idea you were here tonight. Please accept our apologies for any trouble this may have caused. We’ve already taken care of the situation.”

“If it’s alright with you, Mr. Lane, tonight’s tab is on the house—as a gesture of our apology. Would that be acceptable?”