Free The Devil's Due by Monique Martin

one who'd heckled Alan, lumbered across the room toward him. She did the only thing she could think of and ran toward him.
    She leapt up and landed on his back like a crazed monkey. He swung around and she nearly flew off, but held on for dear life. Her arms wound around his neck and her legs tried to grip his waist, but he was too big around. Her fingers worked their way up his face, gouging and poking whatever they touched. He clawed at her hands and finally gripped her arm so tightly she thought it might break.
    He grunted and pried her off his back. With surprising ease, he tossed her aside. She flew through the air. It was an odd slow motion sensation and she had just enough time to realize her underwear was showing as she braced herself for the floor that rushed up to meet her. Instead of smashing into the concrete, she collided with something else. Or was it someone else? It took a second to register what had happened. She hadn't hit the ground; someone had caught her. She felt strong arms hold her just a bit more tightly. She opened her eyes to see Alan smiling down at her. “Hello.”
    He set her down and she saw the man Alan had been fighting curled up in a ball. His hands cradled his man parts, his friend unconscious on the floor next to him. She looked at Alan, who merely shrugged.
    She turned to find Simon and started to rush to his side, but Alan held her arm. “Let him have the honors.”
    Seeing Elizabeth tossed like a ragdoll seemed to have been all Simon had needed to clear his head. The drunken man stumbled on legs of jelly in front him. Simon stood and delivered a quick combination, punctuated with a gut punch Elizabeth felt across the room. The man doubled over onto the floor, clutching his stomach. Simon took a step closer to him and loomed over him. Simon's chest heaved from his efforts. He wiped the blood from his chin with the back of his hand. “Lesson over.”
    Elizabeth hurried over to Simon's side.
    “Bravo,” Alan said.
    ~~~
    The three got out while the going was good and Peter drove them down the winding mountain roads. Elizabeth made sure Simon was all right, and thankfully, except for a few bruises, he was. Grant drank some more and recounted his favorite moments of the evening as they drove home. Slowly, the liquor and gentle ride of the car lulled him to sleep and he slumped down in his seat, a dreamy smile on his face.
    Elizabeth sighed and snuggled into Simon's side. She laid her head on his shoulder and rested a hand on his chest. “We're no closer than we were when the night started.”
    Simon was drifting off himself and it took a moment for her words to register. “Hmm?”
    “To finding out what sort of danger he's in,” Elizabeth clarified, nodding toward a sleeping Alan Grant.
    “Yes, well, other than going to bars with you…”
    Elizabeth lifted her head off his shoulder. “Sorry 'bout that.”
    Simon shook his head and pulled her closer. “It wasn't your fault.”
    She laid her head back on his shoulder.
    “Entirely,” he finished.
    Elizabeth laughed softly. “I am sorry. Last time we almost lost—” She sat up suddenly. “The watch?”
    If they'd lost it in the fight…
    Simon plunged his hand into his jacket pocket and huffed out a relieved breath. “Safe.”
    Thank god for that. Elizabeth leaned her head back against Simon's shoulder and they rode in silence through the nearly desolate streets of early morning Los Angeles.
    Grant's home was a gated mansion in the heart of Beverly Hills. Simon and Elizabeth waited downstairs in the immense foyer while Peter helped Grant up the grand staircase.
    When they reached the top of the stairs, Grant stopped and turned around dramatically. “Now cracks a noble heart. Goodnight sweet prince…ess, and flights of angels sing me to my rest.”
    With that Peter and Grant disappeared on the landing above.
    “I wish we knew how to help him,” Elizabeth said still staring at the top of the empty staircase before turning to