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He matched them in height but was slimmer and more elegant, with a gymnast’s body filling out his suit instead of a linebacker’s. His black hair had a widow’s peak and was cropped close to his head, giving him a neat, almost soldierly look. His eyes were deep-set and slightly hooded, his nose sharp, his cheekbones and jawline cut from marble. But it was his eyes that caught my attention the most.
They were a peculiar shade of pale green, so bright they almost didn’t look real, like flashes of light beneath his dark brows. He was distracted, barely glancing my way as I looked at him, talking in a foreign language to one of the big guys. I listened again, it sounded Eastern European, maybe Russian.
Feral eyes. Something of a wolf in them. Between that and his sleek body, and that sharp white flash of a smile, I found myself wanting to drink him in longer. But unlike the prick in the hunting gear and red ballcap who was still eyeballing me, I knew that staring was rude. I dragged my eyes away and focused on messaging Anna that I was okay, but stuck where I was.
Tattoos came back with my coffee, and I slid him a ten. He nodded and I grabbed the mug, which was trucker-sized and heavy porcelain, so I had to cradle it in both hands. If they had come in cute colors, I would have wanted a dozen. The coffee was fresh, strong, and so hot I had to blow on it before every sip. Good stuff.
I was starting to warm up and stop dripping when I heard a heavy tread come up behind me, and smelled stale tobacco, beer, and sweat.
Shit, I thought, blood pressure rising.Here we go.I just prayed that a bad attitude would be enough to dissuade this creep, because I had no weapons and no one to turn to for help.
Chapter 2
Olivia
Inever quite knew how to deal with horny guys who wouldn’t take a fucking hint. It was like walking a tightrope over a minefield. Bruise one’s ego too much and he could get violent. Bruise it too little and he wouldn’t go away. I had to be a bitch, but not so much of a bitch that this hulking lunk got his fists out. As he settled his weight onto the barstool next to mine, I wiped all traces of a smile from my face and looked up.
“Hey, baby. What’re you doing so far from town?” His breath stank as much as I had expected.
I took a swallow of my coffee before replying. The gleeful sneer in his voice made me weigh the mug in my hand, wondering how good of a weapon it would be in a pinch. “Commute for work. Why?”
He stared at me, the direct question forcing him to think for a moment instead of continuing his leering, shit-tier courtship. “Just wondering how long you’re stickin’ around, darlin’.”
I looked out at the parking lot. Sheets of rain blew across it, and the wind rattled the windows in their frames. I saw someone’s trash can roll down the street in the wind with its attached lid pushed up like a sail. “I’m leaving as soon as it’s safe to drive again.” I prayed that would be soon, but I wasn’t holding my breath.
“That could be hours.” He sounded so happy about it that I pretty much knew what he was thinking. I was smaller and weaker than he was, and female. He could scare me into making this a done deal. I would go upstairs and take his dick just to keep from getting hurt. All he had to do was keep up the intimidation. He had to figure that would be easy, I was half his size, after all—then again, knowing his type he probably thought he was God’s gift to women, and I’d be totally up for a tumble.
I glanced at him and took in his wide, greedy grin before looking away again in disgust. I looked around to see where the bartender had gone, he had disappeared into the back. Great.Some dive out in the boonies probably wouldn’t even know what an Angel Shot was anyway. I should have stayed on the road. “Maybe. Why are you asking?” I kept my voice calm, pretending to be oblivious to what he was trying.
“I want a piece of your sweet ass.” He grinned wider as he said it.
Anger, disgust, outrage, horror. I struggled to keep it all out of my expression. Look calm, even bored, and confuse him. Keep him off balance. Hope it didn’t come to violence. I had a lot of self-defense classes under my belt, but this guy was the size of a half-shaved grizzly.
“Charming,” I said with more sarcasm than I’d meant to show. My heart was starting to beat fast. It was really obvious this guy didn’t give a shit whether I consented or not. “Does your mother know you talk to women like this?”
He blinked at me again, seeming confused. Had he really expected me to be flattered? Or had he expected me to be scared? I acted like neither, and that baffled him. “The fuck kind of question is that?” he demanded after a second.
“The kind that should tell you you’re out of line. Are you drunk?” I asked point blank.
He glanced back at the small squad of empty beer bottles on the table where he’d been sitting and shrugged. “Not enough so I can’t get my dick hard, baby, don’t worry.”
Jesus Christ.“Go hit on someone else. I’m not staying.” I got up, leaving my coffee behind, and turned to head to the desk to cancel the room. Better to brave the storm than deal with him a minute longer.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” His fist closed around my forearm like a meaty manacle, dragging me to a stop. His grip left me cold with fear for what he might try now that he had me captive.
Fuck. Okay. Time to draw some attention.
“Let me go,” I said, much louder. The conversations around the bar cut off suddenly, and heads turned to look our way.
“Jesus, Billy.” The bartender emerged from the back with another bottle of champagne and rolled his eyes when he saw what was going on. “Quit manhandling that girl. You want to spend the night in the drunk tank again?”
“You mind your own fucking business, Mike,” Billy the Rapey Asshole snarled as he squeezed my arm hard enough to make my fingertips tingle. I tried to twist out of his grip, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Get the fuck off of me, you smelly creep!” I yelled, trying to break his grip by rotating my arm against his thumb. Against anyone smaller than this side of beef, it would have worked, but he just started yanking me closer to him.
“Let the lady go.”
The third voice was calm, icily calm, and silky, with just a touch of a Russian accent. I turned my head and saw the man with the green eyes standing there. I hadn’t heard him walk up.
