Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
She deposited the empty glasses in the back and went to check on the pair of guys in the corner booth. They’d been drinking for a couple hours, and if she was the fanciful sort, she would think they were mobsters or something. They both wore black jeans and shirts, and one had a leather jacket draped over the seat next to him despite how warm and sticky the night was outside the pub’s air conditioning. They looked normal enough in a blah kind of way, but something about them had her fighting not to avoid their table.
Meg pasted a smile on her face as she neared. “Can I get you two another drink?”
“The check.” His words were flavored with a faint accent she couldn’t quite place.
Thank God. She nodded, making sure none of her relief showed through her expression. “Sure thing.” Meg walked back to the computer and printed out their tab. She looked up and went still. The men were no longer in their booth. One had moved to stand just inside the door, and the other approached her with the kind of intent that sent alarm bells blaring through her head.
She trusted her instincts. She couldn’t afford not to, not as a bartender, and not as a woman living alone. Meg glanced at the phone farther down the bar and decided that going for it might incite the kind of response in this man that she desperately wanted to avoid. She kept her smile firmly in place and slid the receipt across the bar to him. Where he couldn’t see, she palmed her phone and used her thumb to unlock it. If it was a damn flip phone, she could have texted without looking. She fumbled for the right app. Jonah didn’t live that far away. If she could text him for help, he’d come and sit with her until she was able to lock the doors.
The man dropped cash on the bar but didn’t move away. “Your name’s Meg.”
“That’s what it says on my name tag, so it must be true.”
His lips quirked into a smile that didn’t come close to reaching his brown eyes. “Meg Sanders.”
Ice dripped down her spine. He knew her last name. There was no way he could know her last name. “Who’s asking?”
“I’m not asking. I’m telling you.” His smile grew. “It’s important you know who you’re dealing with before we go further in this conversation. I would hate for you to do something foolish and force me to hurt you.”
Oh god.
This wasn’t a robbery. Thieves didn’t bother to learn the names of the people they stole from. It also wasn’t some druggie wanting to get his jollies off with the bartender and refusing to take no for an answer. This was something else altogether. Galen’s warning flashed through her head. She hadn’t really taken him seriously. There were plenty of dangers for a single woman living alone. It was hard to fathom the kind of threat he’d worried would come for her.
She should have paid better attention.
“What do you want?” She tried to keep her voice even and uninterested, tried to prevent the panic crawling up her throat from bleeding into the rest of her body. Tried and failed.
“I would think it’s obvious by now. We’re here for you.” He glanced over his shoulder and his partner flipped the lock on the front door. She knew that tone, knew that look. There would be no reasoning, no rational conversation. He wanted to hurt her, and he would enjoy doing it. Several of her mother’s boyfriends over the years had similar expressions right before things went very, very bad.
Meg didn’t hesitate.
She bolted, sprinting through the doorway and into the kitchen. Twin curses sounded behind her, but the bar slowed her would-be attackers down. She flew through the back hallway and out the door. Meg made it three steps into freedom before a rough hand closed around the back of her dress. Ripping fabric had never sounded so ominous.
Her attacker grabbed her arm and slammed her into the wall next to the door. He didn’t seem disinterested now. No, with the fire in his eyes and breath hissing from his mouth, he looked downright demonic. “That was a stupid thing to do.”
She tried to knee him in the balls, but he easily turned his hips to avoid the blow. He shook her hard enough that her head smacked the wall behind her. “Fool woman.”
“We’re too open out here,” his partner said softly. “Get her back inside.”
She fought. She kicked and screamed and punched. It didn’t matter. He hauled her around like a child throwing a tantrum, dragging her through the door and back into the bar. They hauled her to a chair in the middle of the room, where they zip-tied her wrists behind her back. The chair was icy against her bare back, her dress hanging from her in shreds.