Big Easy Temptation (The Perfect Gentlemen #3)(27)
But she could do it. Holland was more competent than anyone he knew with the singular exception of Connor. Instead, he grinned her way and decided not to tell her that he would walk her home because he didn’t want the evening to end.
St. Louis Street was a crowded mess, but then it was every night. Even during the dog days of summer, the Quarter was jammed with tourists and students, all trying to out-party the next guy.
Dax grabbed her hand so he wouldn’t lose her in the throng as he headed for her apartment. Maybe he could convince her to fix him some coffee and they could talk a little more. Not about the case. He wanted to forget about that for one night. He wouldn’t kiss her again. He would show her they could be friends and when she was comfortable, he would move them to something more physical.
A woman bumped into him, their shoulders banging together.
“Excuse me.”
“Sorry. So sorry. Hey, do you know where Bourbon Street is?” Given the way she slurred her words, it sounded as if she’d already had enough for the night. She also looked like she couldn’t be much past nineteen. She pushed her unruly hair out of her eyes, which weren’t quite focused.
“Where are your parents?” Holland asked, obviously seeing what he did.
“Fucking cops.” The girl rolled her eyes and stumbled on.
“Par for the course.” Holland sighed. “I could follow her, but I don’t have jurisdiction here. I hope she’s got a good fake ID because those boys on Bourbon Street know they’re being watched. When we get home, I’ll call and have the street cops look for her. At least we know where she’s going.”
A group of women decked out for a bachelorette party rambled through, causing him to separate slightly from her.
She stepped out of the way of the drunk women. Unfortunately, that caused Holland to step into a part of the street that hadn’t been blocked off to traffic. A long line of cars waited, their drivers impatient. He turned in her direction when a man on a bicycle wove through the cars.
That bike was on a collision course for Holland. Dax’s eyes widened.
“Holland!” He tried to push his way through. Only feet separated them, but he couldn’t reach her fast enough. “Watch your twelve!”
She seemed to hear him and looked up just in time to see the bike plowing toward her. Horns honked and the world suddenly seemed louder than before. Holland didn’t panic. She simply stepped back up onto the curb and balanced herself.
He breathed a sigh of relief as the bike started to zoom past her, its rider thrusting out a muscled arm. He snatched the bag right off Holland’s shoulder.
She whirled around and fell to one knee, knocking it hard against the pavement.
Dax finally managed to push his way through to her. He knelt and lifted her.
Holland clutched his hand as she struggled to her feet. “He took my computer. That asswipe took my computer.”
Now that he knew she wasn’t hurt, Dax spun around and gave chase. If she wanted her computer, he would get it for her.
He took off running, his feet pounding on the uneven pavement. He had to fight his way through the crowd, keeping his eyes on that bike. As he wove through the nasty tangle of traffic, he heard someone shouting behind him. He thought it might have been Holland, but if he took his eyes off the man for even a second, he might lose the thief.
Damn it, he hated not having control—over the press from following them, over his past, and definitely over this stealing motherfucker. But he intended to hunt the thug down and get her computer back.
Then it hit him: someone had targeted Holland, specifically went out of his way to take her computer. The Quarter was filled with tourists who’d imbibed too much dangling purses from their shoulders and tucking fat wallets in their back pocket. But the guy on the bike had gone straight for his girl. She’d just started the investigation and already someone wanted whatever notes or evidence she had, so they’d taken her laptop.
Just like they’d taken the life from his father.
He shoved the suspicion aside in favor of running, of giving into his predatory instincts.
The bike turned, gliding down a side street.
Traffic was moving, but that didn’t matter to Dax. He heard the horns blare but ran anyway. He slammed his hand on the hood of a car that stopped suddenly and dashed around it, across the street, his chest heaving.
He managed to sprint onto that street and his way opened up. Then he picked up the pace. If he let the thief sneak out of these tight streets, Dax would surely lose him.
The guy on the bike pedaled hard, but the streets were uneven and riddled with potholes that could trip up a person walking—much less some asshat pedaling hard to flee the scene of his crime. Dax watched as the guy hit a big divot in the road, his body flying forward before finally giving in to gravity.
Fucking hell, yes. This was the break he needed.
He sped up, even though his heart was threatening to pound out of his chest. He saw Holland’s laptop bag go flying. It had been hanging from the handlebars and now flung upward before falling once more and hitting the street.
Dax headed for it but he watched the groaning man writhe on the ground. Nondescript besides being tall and well built, the criminal wore sweatpants and a black light jacket.
He cursed loudly and twisted to his feet. When he spun around, Dax could see the guy wore sunglasses under his helmet. He couldn’t tell much more than that except that the man was tan and either Caucasian or Hispanic.