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Then again. And again.
When this guy isn’t looking at other women, his eyes are darting all around the room. He seems on edge. Barely keeping up with conversation. Which is fine. I’m spewing bullshit anyway. Seems I don’t want to be here anymore than him. I only have his attention when he is staring down my dress or attempting to slide his hand up it.
Suddenly an arm is on mine and squeezing. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to know the guy wants my attention. Demanding it really.
“There you are sweetheart.” Says a deep voice in my ear. It sends a shiver down my back and has me clenching my thighs together. Hands down sexist voice I have ever heard and I haven’t even seen the face or body it goes with.
But putting your hands on me. Oh hell no.
Guys are constantly touching without an invite. It’s one thing if they are my target. Strangers. Nope. No way. They need to learn a lesson.
Without pause, I spin around and rip my arm from his grasp in the process. Behind me, I hear my target scamper off. Damn it. I almost had him.
“I am not your sweetheart.” I growl at the stranger. He’s handsome. A solid eleven out of ten. Big, hard muscles force his shirt to stretch across his chest and biceps. It takes a lot of self-control to keep from drooling. I may be a virgin, but I deeply appreciate the male form. Especially ones with this amount of muscle. His face is gorgeous too. It should be a sin to look this good.
“No, but you could be.” His lips curl into a tentative smile as he speaks. I can’t tell if he’s holding back the real smile to downplay his interest, or if he’s doing it on purpose to play coy about flirting. Damn. More than ever I wish I had experience in flirting with hot guys. It’s easy when the guy isn’t attractive. Hot guys tend to know they are hot and it’s a confidence killer to someone like me who is on the curvier side and never spent much time with a guy.
“Excuse me?” I’m trying to be polite, but he fucked up my mission and I am not in the mood for flirty banter.
“How much?” He asks as he leans against the bar. His elbow resting on the hard wood.
My eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What?”
“There’s no way you were actually interested in that guy. Which means he must have paid you.” Fuck this guy. I go to walk around him but he stops me. “We’re not done talking.”
“I am.”
“We’ll see about that.”
I feel cold metal against my hip. “Let’s go out back.” A gun. I’m not afraid. Well, I am. But only a little. I know I’m not completely helpless. I’ve trained for this and I might be able to disarm him even with him being larger and stronger than me. I’ve practiced hundreds of times, dozens of scenarios and gotten good. In theory. I haven’t yet had a real life experience to utilize my knowledge and skills. He’s significantly larger than me and his muscles don’t look like they are for show. I’ll need to be smart when I make my move. Maximum pain with minimal effort and then a quick escape.
Doing as he says, I grab my coat off the chair. Being careful to keep my purse hidden beneath it. My knife is strapped to my thigh, my gun is in my purse. I won’t be able to retrieve it without alerting him to what I’m doing, so I wait.
I let him take me to the alley. Once outside I grip his wrist in one hand and the gun in the other and give a quick twist while bringing my knee to his nuts. He’s a big guy so I needed to multi-task my attacks in order to be effective. It worked. I now have the gun. I flick off the safety. Hoping since he still had it on, it means he wasn’t planning to kill me, just scare me.
I increase the space between us and aim it at his chest.
“Easy sweetheart. Just need to talk.” He says through pained breathes. He’s still hunched over a bit. Good.
“So talk.” I reply. I’m not sure what he wants with me. If it’s an apology for calling me a hooker he would have done it inside.
“Afraid it’s not that simple. You’ve been seen around town with a lot of different men the last few nights.”
Shit. He’s been following me. Why? “How is that your concern?”
“Typically it wouldn’t be. I don’t judge people’s sex lives. You want to be a slut and spread your legs for everyone be my guest.”
I am far from a slut. My lady bits have never seen action. Though I won’t admit that to him. It’s not his fucking business. “I am not a slut! I went out for drinks with them. I didn’t sleep with them.” Jesus.
His breathing has evened out and he’s back to standing tall. “You left the bar with all of them and got into a car together.”
“Putting aside the obvious stalking you’ve been doing which we’ll come back to, yes I left with many of them, not all, some I left in their car, others we went inside and had a night cap and I left.”
“That’s it?” His eyes say that he doesn’t believe. I don’t give a shit if he does. I don’t know him, and I certainly don’t owe him anything.
“That’s all I’m telling you.” I retort. Stepping another few steps backwards. I’m almost to the end of the alley. Once I am, I plan on making a run for my father’s location.
“Then why don’t you tell me why six out of the last ten guys you’ve been seen leaving a bar with were found dead within days if not hours of last being seen with you?”
