“Okay, Mrs. Smith, why didn’t you kick his ass?” someone beside me asked, but I didn’t bother to look. No. I kept an eye on that guy walking away. He felt… dangerous.
“Everything isn’t like the movies, dumbass,” I said and walked to the bar to drop off the glasses.
“Who was that? I didn’t get a good look,” Drey asked.
“Some perv. But he’s gone. Busy night, isn’t it?”
“Halloween always is.” He glanced at me. “You look hot, Mrs. Smith.”
“Why thank you, Mr. Smith.” I picked up my tray and stood beside him as I eyed my tables. “Last call in five. Then I might have a few—if Bill’s okay with it. You in?”
“In. You haven’t been drinking here lately.”
“Bill laid down the law. Said I couldn’t.”
“Been there, done that.” He smirked. “A few is okay once it’s cleared out. So, where you been the last few nights? I miss my partner in crime at the store.”
“Free labor is what you miss.”
“Funny. Seriously, what gives?”
“You keeping tabs?”
“Just fishing for some conversation, Ms. Paranoid.”
“Sorry. Um…at Angelina’s.”
That earned me a full-on look. “Angelina’s?”
“Yeah, I’m…helping her with the annual Christmas Ball this year.”
“Really?” Drey asked.
“She’s actually venturing out more. It’s fun to see.” And pretty cool to be a part of. Angelina was surprisingly understanding and patient. Then again, she had a taste of what I’d gone through.
A small taste. But she was right about the invisible bond between survivors. Hell, even her friend Lizzie had joined us on some shopping sprees—via video chat of course.
She was a hoot.
“So, no fights or attacks at this year’s ball, right?”
“Right.” She’d told me about how someone attacked one of the women at her ball and Hunter had come to the rescue. While tragic, it’d led to record donations. Something good came of something bad. That was Angelina’s motto.
I wasn’t quite sold on it, considering what I’d been through, but it was a noble notion. Maybe someday I’d get there.
Drey’s posture stiffened, and I followed his line of sight. It narrowed in on a short guy who had the same color brown hair as Drey. And the guy was tatted up with large gauges in each of his earlobes. I could have thrown a quarter through them.
To each his own.
Drey stepped in front of me as he tapped his ear. “Bill, need you out here.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just—”
“Hey, Drey!” the guy said. His ice-blue gaze shifted to me, and I knew right away this guy was trouble. I’d seen plenty of trouble over the years mixed up with Nicco’s guys, and I knew this look.
“What’s up, Damon? Thought you’d be in jail.”