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The very least he could have done was entertain me with a fresh pickup line, or has the world run out of new material? With the regurgitation reboot of every film franchise, my guess is that the Muses have run dry. Tapped out.Finito.
As I ponder that question, the Don Juan imposter huffs and storms off. I’m sure he curses his nice guy status, not realizing that he just proved that’s a fallacy by his rapid descent into name-calling.
What if I were just shy? I’m not, but that isn’t the point.
I drain the rest of my mojito and toss down a wad of cash to pay my tab, then I call, “Keep the change!” to the bartender.
She nods with an almost imperceptible eye roll. She probably thinks I left a buck or two as a tip. I consider staying to see the look on her face when she sees the outrageous amount. I watched her put up with a slew of idiots hitting on her all night, and then stiffing her with crappy tips, so I kind of feel like she deserves a win tonight. At least one of us does.
My phone chimes, letting me know my ride is close. Slipping on my red leather jacket, I head out the front door to meet my driver. Luckily, I’m the only one outside.
Even the smokers have disappeared, likely having found themselves a lukewarm body for a disappointing one-night stand of paltry, mediocre sex.
Yeah, I know I’m bitter.
There isn’t a car in sight. I recheck my app. My driver should have been here by now, and it’s weirdly quiet for this usually busy street.
The bright streetlights dim and barely illuminate the sidewalk in front of me, and a buzzing sensation vibrates at the back of my head and down my spine—my intuition’s way of telling me something is very, very wrong, like death knocking on my door.
I wrap my arms around myself and briefly turn my focus inward toseeif I can perceive what’s going on, but my psychic ability doesn’t pick up anything specific.
I quickly scan my surroundings again, but I can’t see anything or anyone on the dark street.
Even at this late hour, there should be a steady stream of traffic, but I haven’t seen or heard any activity at all, not even a honk in the distance. There isn’t even a breeze, which is odd for a coastal city like this one.
Another warning vibrates down my spine. From a few self-defense classes, my harrowing life on the streets, and my psychic knowledge, I’ve learned to trust my instincts. They are naturally better than most.
Besides, I have many legitimate reasons to fear for my life.
Movement catches my eye. A limo heads in my direction and then stops at the curb in front of me. Its back window rolls down, and an elegant-looking woman leans forward and smiles at me.
I glance around, wondering what she is looking for.
“Tessa Maat?” she asks.
My eyes bulge out, and fear steals my ability to react.
Fuck, I’ve been discovered. She knows myrealname—my legal name. I thought I’d done a better job of hiding all these years.
This woman, from what I can see, is a high-class, wealthy socialite. I’m sure her lipstick costs more than my entire outfit, and I’m not exactly cheap with my clothes.
This woman’s aura screams privilege and power.
What does someone like her want with me?
I finally gather myself together and ask, “What do you want?”
“To have a chat.” The sultry siren beckons me closer with a manicured finger. “Come with me.”
My well-honed instincts say this is a no-go.
“I’m good, but thanks.” With quick steps, I walk toward my apartment. I’m only a mile away from my new place anyway.
Her limo keeps pace alongside me. “If you don’t come with me, you’ll die,” she says.
I turn on my heel and project as much hostility as I can muster. Bullies often back off when confronted, and this woman qualifies as a bully.
“Is that a threat?” My fists clench at my sides. I give my surroundings a quick scan to make sure she doesn’t have someone who’s about to jump me, but eerily, there still isn’t anyone around. I can’t even hear any noise from the bar.
