Too bad, he thought. Because far too many men were casting appreciative glances in Abby’s direction, and he found himself not liking it even a little.

They finished their meal, enjoying the music in the other room. “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling” echoed off the walls as they headed back out to the street.

“I hope you’re keeping track of the money we’re spending,” Abby said. “I’m supposed to pay half, remember?”

He almost smiled. “Maggie’s keeping track of the bigger items. Dinner’s on me.”

“But—” Abby broke off when someone on the sidewalk jostled her, and Gage reached out to catch her before she accidentally stepped off the sidewalk into the street. He looked up to see a car racing toward them, screeching to a halt right in front of them. Behind them, two men rushed out of the alley, both dressed in black, faces covered by black balaclavas.

“Abby!” Gage lunged for the man who grabbed her, knocking her out of the way and shoving the man aside as the second attacker rushed toward her. Whirling, Gage turned and lashed out with his boot, knocking the second man back, sending him sprawling on the sidewalk.

“Run!” Gage shouted. “Get back inside!”

The first man blocked her way. Six feet, thin, wearing black jeans and sneakers, he caught her, dragged her toward the car while the second man, short and stout, with tree-trunk arms, swung a blow Gage ducked.

Gage threw a punch straight from the shoulder that knocked the guy clear off his feet. He turned to see Abby fighting with the other man, scratching and clawing, her ankle boot delivering a hard kick to the man’s shin. The guy hissed through his teeth and slapped her. Gage saw red.

Grabbing the guy’s shoulder, he spun him around and punched him in the face hard enough to send him crashing into the side of the building.

The short, stout man was up and running. He hurled himself into the back seat of the car, and the other man careened in after him. The door slammed shut. The vehicle roared off down the street, tires screeching as it rounded the corner.

Fighting to control the fury pumping through him, Gage strained to read the license plate, but it had been purposely obscured. It was too dark to tell the model of the car, except that it was an SUV. He headed for Abby, saw her bent over, hands on her knees, braid loose, fiery hair hanging over her face. She looked up at his approach, and Gage pulled her into his arms.

“It’s okay,” he said, the adrenaline beginning to wear off but not the anger. “They’re gone. You’re okay.”

Abby clung to him. He could feel her trembling, breathing way too fast. “They were trying . . . trying to kidnap me.”