No Rest For The Wicked

“We should do this again sometime, but next time—whoops!” Diane giggled as her feet slid out from underneath her and she planted her butt on the sidewalk. I snorted a laugh, helping her back onto her feet. “You’ve had way too much to drink.” “Clearly, not enough,” she mused, struggling to keep her balance. She almost tipped over for a second time, when a tattooed hand shot out of nowhere and held her steady. “Well, hello there,” she fluttered her lashes at the man holding her. “Where have you been all my life?” Anxiety clawed inside my chest when I realized it was one of the men who stared at us earlier. The one with the symbol on his shirt, with a promise of malicious intent on his lips when he smiled at me. His eyes fell on me and he offered me another wolf of a smile. “I’d leave if I were you, while you have the chance.” I stiffened. “I’m not leaving her here with you.” “Your choice, then.” He steadied his attention back on Diane. I took that opportunity to step back and peer at the