I decide to make for it and get a ride home. Jeb will be working tonight, and I’ll make sure he goes back to the Reptile Bar in a little while to collect Jules. It is a regular routine when I go out with her, and Jeb will make sure she goes back with him no matter how much she might protest. I don’t trust the clique to look out for her, so it gives me some peace of mind to know she’ll at least get home in one piece.
Hanging by the door to the bar is a young punk I’d spotted inside earlier. He is smoking, and everything about him screams wannabe gangster. He’d eyed me up when I’d been standing at the bar, and I’d steadfastly ignored him. He notices me again.
“Hey,” he calls out, “you not going yet, are ya?”
“Yes,” I say stiffly. “I have work in the morning.”
“Hey, hold up,” he says quickly moving to catch up with me. He moves round so he is blocking me from my destination. Whiskey fumes come off his breath in thick waves. “Don’t go yet, babe. It’s still early.”
“Sorry, but I have to,” I reply, trying to remain polite. I make a mental note to have Jeb come round straight away and collect Jules. I don’t want her getting hit on by a creep like this.
“Come on, babe. Stay for another drink. We can have a party on our own,” the punk insists. He is pressing in close, and his hand grips my arm.
“Please, let me go,” I say, feeling the rising tide of panic. We are only a few feet from the bar. Maybe if I scream loud enough someone will come out and investigate.
“Don’t be like that,” the man says with an edge of menace in his voice. “I’m just being friendly.”
I become aware of the purr of an engine, and suddenly spot a blue sports car pull up alongside us.
“Holly?” Vance Drake’s rich voice drapes the air like silk. I turn to see him looking at me from the open driver’s window. “Everything okay here?”
A surge of relief goes through me, and I hold myself back from rushing over to the car. “I’m on my way home,” I say. I shoots a glance at the punk. “Well, I’m trying to at any rate.”
Vance nods. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride.”
“Hey man, I’ll walk her home,” the other man butts in. His hand on my arm tightens, an ugly look twists his face. “Beat it. We don’t need you spoiling the party.”
“Let me go!” I hiss, my legs trembling with fear. “I just want to go home!”
With wolf-like grace, Vance slips out of the car. His disarming grin is plastered on his face, but I see iron in his eyes. It makes me more frightened of him than the punk. “My friend doesn’t want to party with you,” he says brightly. “I suggest you go find someone with a little less taste.”
“You think you can take me!” the man snarls. He releases his grip on my arm and pushes his face into Vance’s. He is a little shorter than Vance, but that doesn’t seem to bother him. He bristles with aggression.
Vance, still smiling pleasantly, moves with lightning speed. I stare wide-eyed as he twists the punk’s arm behind his back and thrusts him face first into the wall of the club.
“We can do this one of two ways, my friend,” Vance says in a soft voice. “First, you can just walk away and carry on being pond scum, or second, I can put you in the hospital and you’ll be eating fluids through a straw sticking out of your butt for the next six months.”
The punk makes to retort, but Vance twists his arm harder. I wince at the brutality of the motion and look around, concerned that someone might see or a cop might pass by. The last thing I want is to spend the night in jail.
“Okay, okay,” the man whines. “Let me go. I won’t cause any trouble.”
Vance lets him go and steps away. “Have a good evening.”
The punk shoots him an ugly look and stalks away. I shudder as he passes me by, and my stomach lurches.
“Are you okay?” Vance asks in a concerned voice. He draws closer, and the danger he’d
Hanging by the door to the bar is a young punk I’d spotted inside earlier. He is smoking, and everything about him screams wannabe gangster. He’d eyed me up when I’d been standing at the bar, and I’d steadfastly ignored him. He notices me again.
“Hey,” he calls out, “you not going yet, are ya?”
“Yes,” I say stiffly. “I have work in the morning.”
“Hey, hold up,” he says quickly moving to catch up with me. He moves round so he is blocking me from my destination. Whiskey fumes come off his breath in thick waves. “Don’t go yet, babe. It’s still early.”
“Sorry, but I have to,” I reply, trying to remain polite. I make a mental note to have Jeb come round straight away and collect Jules. I don’t want her getting hit on by a creep like this.
“Come on, babe. Stay for another drink. We can have a party on our own,” the punk insists. He is pressing in close, and his hand grips my arm.
“Please, let me go,” I say, feeling the rising tide of panic. We are only a few feet from the bar. Maybe if I scream loud enough someone will come out and investigate.
“Don’t be like that,” the man says with an edge of menace in his voice. “I’m just being friendly.”
I become aware of the purr of an engine, and suddenly spot a blue sports car pull up alongside us.
“Holly?” Vance Drake’s rich voice drapes the air like silk. I turn to see him looking at me from the open driver’s window. “Everything okay here?”
A surge of relief goes through me, and I hold myself back from rushing over to the car. “I’m on my way home,” I say. I shoots a glance at the punk. “Well, I’m trying to at any rate.”
Vance nods. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride.”
“Hey man, I’ll walk her home,” the other man butts in. His hand on my arm tightens, an ugly look twists his face. “Beat it. We don’t need you spoiling the party.”
“Let me go!” I hiss, my legs trembling with fear. “I just want to go home!”
With wolf-like grace, Vance slips out of the car. His disarming grin is plastered on his face, but I see iron in his eyes. It makes me more frightened of him than the punk. “My friend doesn’t want to party with you,” he says brightly. “I suggest you go find someone with a little less taste.”
“You think you can take me!” the man snarls. He releases his grip on my arm and pushes his face into Vance’s. He is a little shorter than Vance, but that doesn’t seem to bother him. He bristles with aggression.
Vance, still smiling pleasantly, moves with lightning speed. I stare wide-eyed as he twists the punk’s arm behind his back and thrusts him face first into the wall of the club.
“We can do this one of two ways, my friend,” Vance says in a soft voice. “First, you can just walk away and carry on being pond scum, or second, I can put you in the hospital and you’ll be eating fluids through a straw sticking out of your butt for the next six months.”
The punk makes to retort, but Vance twists his arm harder. I wince at the brutality of the motion and look around, concerned that someone might see or a cop might pass by. The last thing I want is to spend the night in jail.
“Okay, okay,” the man whines. “Let me go. I won’t cause any trouble.”
Vance lets him go and steps away. “Have a good evening.”
The punk shoots him an ugly look and stalks away. I shudder as he passes me by, and my stomach lurches.
“Are you okay?” Vance asks in a concerned voice. He draws closer, and the danger he’d
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