Page 3 of The Forbidden Note

“Does she look like your ‘baby’?”

Shocked, I glance up. All I can see is the back of a black T-shirt stretching over wide shoulders as a man brushes past me. He stands guard in front of my chair, fingers loose, legs firm. In his back pocket are a pair of worn drumsticks.

The jerk flings to his feet. “Who the hell are you?”

“None of your business.” There’s venom in that tone. A hint of gravel. Like an otherworldly beast in a classic Greek tale.

I see the jerk’s shifty eyes pinballing between me and the stranger.

Why don’t you give him a show?

The thought sounds like her.

It makes me smile. Makes me feel like she’s still here.

I want to chase that feeling, chase it all the way off a cliff if I have to.

Angling my body toward the stranger, I smile. “Why are you so late?”

Shocking blue eyes, like pieces ripped out of the sky, beam down on me. It’s my first time getting a good look at his face and it makes my heart slam against my ribs.

This guy isstunning.

A little younger than I’d expect—there’s a rebellious glint in his eyes and a tilt to his chin that says the world hasn’t beaten the fight out of him yet—but those broad shoulders and that deep voice compile into an enticing package.

“Sorry, tiger,” he says. The way his eyes dip to my lips makes my knees weak. “Traffic.”

“You’re kidding me,” the jerk grunts. “You’re not together. I saw you sitting in the corner a few minutes ago.”

Shoot. We’ve been had.

“Are you messing with me?” The jerk grabs the stranger’s collar and hauls him forward until they’re nose-to-nose.

A chair topples.

The bartender glances over in alarm.

“I suggest you remove your hands.”

“Orwhat, punk? You think I can’t take you?”

A shiver of fear runs down my spine. Both men are around the same height, but the jerk has a bit more girth to him. It’s a toss-up who’ll win this fight.

Suddenly, two men approach us. They flank the stranger on either side, saying nothing and yet amping up the tension.

I glance between the newcomers. They’re both tall and broad-shouldered. One is blonde. The other has silky black hair and almond-shaped eyes.

The energy in the bar shifts when the three stand together. Darkness wafts around them. An intimidating, radioactivesomethingthat could set off fire alarms.

The jerk looks nervous. For a second, he hesitates, shoulders ramping up, chin trembling.

One.

Two.

The face-off doesn’t get to three seconds.

Scowling, the jerk drops his grip and stumbles to the exits, muttering ‘she’s not worth it’ under his breath.

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