Free CAPTURED INNOCENCE by Cynthia Hickey Page A

like this in years. You’re good for me.” He snorted again and excused himself from the table.
                  She looked around the restaurant as Conley walked, laughing, to the men’s room. People stared at her, frowns on their faces. Blushing, she shrugged and ducked her head.
    ###
                  Conley still laughed as he pushed open the door to the restroom. He strolled to the wide mirror and stared at his red face. Shaking his head, he turned on the cold water and splashed his face.
                  Someone grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his head into the mirror. Spots danced before him, obscuring his vision. Before he could act, a knee slammed into his stomach. He dropped to the floor.
                  When his attacker lifted his leg to kick, Conley grabbed the man’s foot and twisted. The man hit the floor with a thud. Taking a gulp of air into tortured lungs, Conley threw himself on top of his attacker. He smashed his forearm into the man’s windpipe.
                  “Who are you?” He stared down into dark eyes. The man’s ebony hair, long and greasy, splayed across the tiled floor.
                  The man arched his back, knocking Conley off. He scrambled to his feet and whipped a switchblade from his tattered jeans.
                  Conley crab-walked backward until he could regain his footing. He held his hands loosely in front him.
                  “There’s no need for that.” He kicked the weapon from the man’s hand. It landed with a resounding clatter on the tile.
                  His attacker rushed forward and head-butted him in the face. Blood ran down Conley’s chin and dripped onto his shirt.
                  “Now you’ve done it. I’m getting married in this shirt.” He thrust his fist forward, busting the other man’s nose. The bone crunched beneath his fist and blood spurted. Conley grabbed him in a headlock before dragging the man through the receiving door of the restaurant. He tossed him down the small flight of cement stairs.
                  “I don’t know who you are or why you’ve chosen me as your victim.” Conley’s voice was low and even. “But I’m not a man you want to mess with.” He wiped an arm across his lips and watched the other man stumble to his feet. The stranger turned and scampered down the alley.
                  Conley headed back to the men’s room. He removed his shirt and scrubbed at the blood spots with a paper towel. When he’d cleaned as much of it from his shirt as he could, he again splashed his face with cold water, then held the wet shirt under the hand dryer.               An older man in a well-tailored suit entered the restroom and paused, looking at the shirtless man.
                  Conley grinned. “Spilled my gravy.”
                  The man nodded without speaking and disappeared into one of the stalls.
                  Conley donned his damp, wrinkled shirt, and headed back to the table.
                  Jo’s eyes widened when she spotted him. “That was some bathroom break. Why’s your shirt wet?”
                  “Had to wash the gravy out.” Conley tossed money beside his empty plate.
                  “You don’t have gravy. What happened to your lip?”
                  “I ran into the door laughing.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her from her chair. The chair fell to the floor, the sound loud in the quiet room. “Time to go.”
                  She sputtered as he dragged her from the crowded restaurant. Once outside she jerked her arm free. “What is going on?”
                  “Nothing.” He looked down at her standing with her hands on her hips. “We want to get to the chapel before it closes.”
                  “I