Page 40 of Tattletale

She looks tired. Showing me a sleepy smile, she waves me off. “Already taken care of.”

“Vesper?” I ask.

Ollie scrunches her nose and subtly points to the end of the bar. The men who sent me the cosmopolitan are still perched on their stools.

“The whole tab?” I ask.

She holds up her hands. “I told them you weren’t interested.”

“Get home and put your feet up, love. Don’t keep that sweet baby up too long.”

“Thank you,” Ollie mouths.

I pull out my wallet as I make my way to the corner of the bar where the two men are sitting. I freeze when my fingers rub over the inscription in the leather. LM.Levi Moore.I forgot I was still using this thing. A keepsake Lance gave me years ago. It’s the only item he kept from his past. He gave it to me like it was nothing, but for the past five years, he’d always have that crooked smile on his face whenever he saw me with it. The conversation was always the same.

“Still carrying that raggedy ol’ thing, C?”

“Yup. Does the job.”

We’d both pretend like it wasn’t as significant as wearing an athlete’s jersey and showcasing his number. I was Lance’s long before he told me he loved me.

And now we’re…

I shake my head, forcing the thought from my mind. I don’t want to think about it. It’s fine. I’ll just get a new wallet.

I fish out a one-hundred-dollar bill and place it between the two men dressed in suits. “Please don’t waste your money. I’m not available.”

The larger man with bloodshot eyes and black hair wraps his pitcher mitt of a hand around mine and holds it up. He examines my empty ring finger. “You look pretty available to me. Boyfriends don’t intimidate me.”

I glare at his hand. “Let me go.”

He drops it immediately, but glares at me with his beady eyes that look too small for his head.

“Stauch,” the smaller blond man says, “you’re being rude.” He looks mousey and nervous. His cheeks are flushed red. “Sorry, miss. My business partner meant it as a compliment. But please keep your money.”

“Fine. Then use it to tip Ollie.” Leaving the bill between them, I take a step backward, pivot, and head toward the lounge entrance. If I wasn’t so inebriated, I probably could’ve sensed that devilish eyes were on me. It’s not until I’m through the door and around the corner of the building that I realize I have a shadow.

I’m really not in the mood for this tonight.It’s raining heavily. The globs of water falling from the sky make loud, angry splashes against the asphalt. I pretend like I don’t hear him stomping angrily behind me. Acting like a deer walking into a lion’s trap, I wander down the empty, dark alleyway behind Martinis.

“You know, I’m so sick of little cunts like you.”

I turn around just in time to watch him try to puff up like a bear. He pauses about ten feet away from me. We’re both at the mercy of the rain, getting drenched, but neither of us seems bothered.

“Humor me,” I shout over the pattering sound. “Why exactly am I a little cunt? I gave your money back.”

“You put your tits on display with that low-cut, skintight shirt. You’ve been making eyes at me all night. You’re the kind of bitch who likes to watch a grown man squirm, aren’t you?”

I glance down at my shirt to remind myself what I wore out—a dingy black, cap-sleeve T-shirt paired with dark gray cargo pants. I’d hardly call this sexy attire. “I assure you I was not makingeyesat you. But I promise, if you take another step toward me, you will be squirming...from pain.” I touch my back pocket, ensuring my pocketknife is within reach. My pistol is wrapped around my calf, but I’d prefer to make this messy. Rain washes all the blood away.

“That’s big talk coming from such a little bitch.” He spits over his shoulder and takes another few steps. “I bet that pussy’s tight. Let’s find out.”

“Nope. Wrong. I’m wider than the Holland Tunnel, buddy. Believe me when I say I’ve got nothing for you.So, walk the fuck away.”

“Oh, look at that,” he snarls, taking another step forward. “Looks like it’s just you, me, and a dead end, sweetheart.” I look over my shoulder at the brick wall behind me, but it’s not a dead end. The alley splits in two directions.

I point in the direction that leads to the overflow parking lot. “Dead end? Are you that drunk or just stupid?”

He smiles with a sinister expression. “Then why don’t you run?”

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