Page 25 of Under Pressure

As she pushed back on her stool, making to get up, the bartender’s words lingered. “I’d date you.” She shrugged, dropping cash on the bar, hating how she couldn’t have it all.

The bartender picked up the cash, putting it away. Then, with all seriousness, he added, “Just talk to him. Tell him what you want. Have you tried that?”

“Not exactly,” she replied, picking up her bag. “It’s not that easy.”

He locked eyes with her, knowing.

She sighed. “I just can’t.”

“Then he’s not the right guy for you.”

The advice hit her like a bag of bricks—or maybe it was the very good tequila. Either way, she found herself nearly faltering over the stool as she nodded a goodbye at the bartender.

I just can’t. The words ricocheted through her mind. There was another time, another day, when she’d said those exact same words.

As she moved out of the bar, back onto the street, her phone vibrated in her bag yet again. She pulled it out and found she was getting a call from a blocked number—again. She bit her lip, dipping into the alleyway connecting to the hotel parking lot. Maybe she was a little tipsy, maybe her judgment was just compromised—but what if it was really Delta? What did he want?

She crumbled, answering the call.

“Hello?” she demanded in a very serious tone, cutting through the alleyway on her way back to her hotel.

There was a pause, and Delta’s familiar voice questioned, “Where are you?”

“That doesn’t concern you,” she snapped, looking side to side as she hit a darker spot in the alley.

Holding her phone to her ear, which impaired her vision, made chills run up her spine as she realized how vulnerable she’d just become. The tequila really had contributed to some bad decisions. Delta chuckled darkly into the line, seemingly amused by her defiance. His rich, warm voice rushed over her body, like he was there in person. Like she could reach out and strangle him.

“You have no idea what concerns me.” His tone turned intimidating, as usual. She was used to it—though it still stirred her to her core.

“I’m not doing this,” she countered, but just as she said it, she heard shuffling to her right.

Her gaze flashed in that direction, and a beefy man taking a piss in the alleyway spun toward her. She brought the phone down from her ear, moving quickly to get through the alley. Shit.

“Where are you going?” The man’s slurred voice followed her as she walked. All she could smell was booze. “Wait.”

“Oh shit,” she exhaled as she leapt forth like a drunken gazelle, hearing the man’s footsteps quicken behind her.

Not soon enough, she reached the end of the alley, learning that she wasn’t alone anymore. Another man dressed in black—with a familiar mask—appeared, waiting for her, clicking his tongue with disappointment. Through the dark, she spun around, and the drunken man swayed, feet away from her.

“What’s your name?” the drunk garbled, motioning at Kendra.

“She’s mine. Move along.” Delta extended his long arm, pushing her behind his tall, solid form. Commanding and imposing, he made his territory damn clear.

The orders loud and clear, the drunk didn’t hesitate, quickly vanishing back down the alley, leaving Delta with Kendra. Once they were alone again, Delta stood back, waiting smugly.

“I’m getting tired of you feeling the need to save me,” she snapped, pushing his hands off her and straightening her spine. “I had that completely under control.”

“Did you?” He smirked, lifting his black mask to reveal his gorgeous face. “And I’m getting tired of you not listening to me.”

“I don’t need to listen to you, if you haven’t realized. You’re not my father.”

“But I have been your daddy,” Delta toyed, pushing his own agenda, taking a step into her space.

She sucked in her breath, feeling the warmth of his close body, inhaling his scent.

His deep growl continued, “Do you think I’ve fabricated this whole thing?”

“Without a doubt, you have,” she argued, trying to push away, a little drunk and really guarded. Her body still in fight or flight, she took a step back.

---