She shook her head, then ran a hand through her dark, glossy curls, and when they swept to the side, he caught the line of her nape: stiff. Stiffer as the man started talking faster. Inching closer. Gesticulating harder. Then his hand closed around her upper arm, and Eli intervened. He was at the bar in seconds, but the woman was already trying to pry herself free. He stopped behind her stool and ordered, “Let her go.” The man glanced up, glassy-eyed. Drunk, maybe. “This is none of your business, bro.” Eli stepped closer, bicep brushing against the woman’s back. “Let. Her. Go.” The man looked,
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