Free Friends and Lovers Trilogy 02 - Charmed by Beth Ciotta Page B

Murphy suspected MDMA otherwise known as Ecstasy. The popular club drug lowered inhibitions and increased awareness and feelings of pleasure. Whoever had slipped her the illegal stimulant had intended to take advantage. A cynical conclusion, but one based on experience and facts. Not to mention his gut.
    Fortunately, a few of those side effects—overheating, dehydration, and anxiety—had kicked in, prodding Lulu off the dance floor and into his arms.
    Unfortunately, she was experiencing an extreme reaction.
    He parked the Jag in front of her house, retrieved his Glock. The game was on. He regarded the unwitting target with a frown. She’d maneuvered herself into a tight ball, her thighs clutched to her chest, her forehead resting on her knees. At first he thought she was crying, but then she turned her head and looked at him, dry-eyed.
Thank you, Jesus.
Usually he wasn’t bothered by tears. But there wasn’t anything “usual” about this woman.
    “I’m so sorry,” she said for the umpteenth time.
    “Stop apologizing.” Realizing he sounded curt, he opened his door and stepped outside, cursing the stars as he rounded the car. For chrissakes there were worse things than a woman hurling on a man’s boots. The “unfortunate incident,” as Jean-Pierre had dubbed it, didn’t even make Murphy’s Top Ten List. Between his Marine Expeditionary Unit missions and his executive protection assignments, he’d seen some damned disgusting shit. He had a cast iron stomach, nerves of steel, and a closet full of shoes.
Hell, all she’d had in her stomach was cola. Cleaning up had been a cinch.
    Convincing her friends that he would be the one driving her home had been more complicated.
    He’d waited until the concerned crowd had dispersed and Jean-Pierre had escorted her into the club’s head before sharing a few choice words with Gallow. No wonder Jake got along with the guy. They walked the same walk. Sexual preference aside, they both treated women with a tangible reverence. The term chivalrous came to mind, along with fearless. Lulu’s dark-suited champion had proven a pain in the ass even after the phone discussion in which Jake had told him to trust Murphy and to do whatever he advised, no questions asked. Per Jake’s request Gallow didn’t question, but he’d sure as hell said his piece. He even went into detail about which bones he’d break, and in what order, if Murphy were to harm even one curl on Lulu’s head–that’s if Sofie didn’t kill him first.
    He’d listened in earnest. Well, at least he hadn’t laughed. No use insulting a man whose intentions were honorable. Even his twinkle-toes boyfriend had grit. Throughout the confrontation, Frenchie had managed to look semi-intimidating even in his tight leather pants and orange paisley shirt. In reality, Murphy could drop the pair without breaking a sweat. Not because they were gay, but because he was good. His team would argue
fuckin’ scary.
    As for Sofie … A man-magnet with a kiss-ass mentality?
He actually looked forward to meeting this woman. Lulu had mentioned she was out with a friend. He didn’t think she was home yet.
No car in the drive. No lights in the windows.
    No lights.
“Son of a bitch.” He opened the passenger door and helped Lulu out, that home security lecture tripping off his tongue. “Leave on a couple of lights when you’re out at night,” he said as he escorted her toward the porch. “A burglar’s less likely to target a house if he thinks someone’s home.”
    “We don’t have burglars,” she said, shivering beneath her shaggy jacket. “This is a nice neighborhood.”
    “An affluent neighborhood. And there’s always a first time.” Actually, he was more concerned about a stalker than a thief, but for some reason he shied away from the subject. A few hours ago he’d been itching to give her a wake-up call. Now he wanted to shield her from the ugly reality that she’d been drugged, possibly by a sexual deviant–a