Page 109 of Say Yes to the Death

What was there to love about it? It sounded like every other country song—twangy chords interspersed with lyrics about a truck and a bottle of whiskey.

“Come on.” He grabbed her wrist.

She snatched her arm back. “Where are we going?”

“To dance,” he said, gesturing to the dance floor. People had lined up in two rows. Claire wasn’t wearing nearly enough flannel for this.

“Absolutely not.” She picked her water up and took a large sip. No one could force her to dance if she was hydrating. “I can’t leave my drink unattended, Mr. Safety Expert.”

Sawyer picked up her glasses and dropped them next to Mindy. “Watch these,” he said before dragging Claire into the fray.

The whiskey and absinthe had met in her stomach. It gurgled angrily. Tomorrow was not going to be fun.

Sawyer shuffled her into the line next to him. “Here.” His massive hands planted on his hips. “Like this.”

The floor shook as he stomped his right boot twice and then clapped.

She glared daggers at him. If this had been a 90s party song, she would have danced him under the table. But line dancing was another beast entirely.

“Come on,” he said, nudging her with his elbow.

She begrudgingly copied his movements. Oh no, there was spinning involved. She whirled to the left and to the right. The gurgling in her stomach was intensifying. Somewhere between the stomping and clapping, a trio in the corner of the bar caught her eye.

Two men in cutoff tank tops had cornered a girl in a yellow sundress. She looked terrified. On autopilot, Claire began cataloging the details—two white males, between 5’8” and 5’10”, one with a backward facing Phillies cap and the other completely bald. The bald man wore a Venor University tank and neon pink shorts. The other had a tattoo on the back of his left arm. She stomped and spun around again. Were those letters? It was too dim in this bar to tell. She needed a closer look if she was going to prevent a crime.

The song mercifully ended, and she set off in the direction of the men, but they had moved. The girl in the sundress had slipped past them and was headed toward the door. They followed her.

“Not today, assholes,” Claire said. She followed them outside without turning back for her purse. The ankle holster for Taser #4 hadn’t gone with her outfit, so she hadn’t bothered to put it on. She was wandering straight into a potential kerfuffle with no weapon. What was the plan? Shit, maybe she should have gotten Sawyer first.

The douche in the baseball cap walked underneath a streetlamp. His tattoo was finally visible and Claire gasped. The Greek letters epsilon, sigma, and alpha were inked into his skin. Tingles shot through her whole body, and the hair stood up on the back of her neck.

ESA. Barney’s frat. And they were pursuing a helpless girl. The Solo cup didn’t fall far from the keg, apparently.

“Where do you think you’re goin’, huh?” the one in the hat asked. He grabbed the girl’s wrist and tugged her several feet down the alleyway, pressing her against the brick wall. “I said we’re going back to my place.” He leaned in and planted one hand above her head.

Claire’s blood ran cold. Faint strains of country songs were still audible. She was not going to let this girl get attacked in an alleyway next to a country bar. But how would she save her? She scanned the dingy alley. Other than two dirty trashcans, a dumpster, and a discarded wood pallet, it was empty. She could turn back and grab Sawyer, but what if they attacked while she was gone? She hesitated with one foot on the sidewalk and one in the alley.

“N-no,” the girl said. She couldn’t be more than five feet tall, and she wore the same wedges as Claire. “I’m supposed to meet my friends.”

“You can meet them later,” said the other one. “You’re coming with us. We’re gonna have some fun.”

“The fuck you are,” Claire yelled in a much deeper voice than usual, yanking the lid off a metal trash can and marching down the alleyway. She stood in the shadows and held the lid in front of her. “Get away from her.”

The douche brothers whirled around. They made eye contact with Claire and burst into laughter. “Oh, look, Josh. Another taker.”

The bald one cracked his knuckles and took a step toward her. The absinthe and whiskey roiled in her stomach. She held the lid in front of her like a shield. She could throw it, but then she’d lose her only protection.

Lumbering footsteps echoed behind her, and she spun around. Was there a third one? She had only had two physical self-defense lessons, and none of them focused on fighting off three attackers at once.

Sawyer, who had thankfully taken off his cowboy hat, marched down the alleyway. His spurs rang on the asphalt.

“Problem, gentlemen?”

The douche brothers looked at each other. They seemed to be sizing Sawyer up.

“I said get away from her,” Claire yelled. The one in the hat still had his hand planted above her head.

“You heard the lady,” Sawyer growled.

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