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He’s quiet for a moment then, “Why are you calling me?”

“I’m serious, Rowan. Why didn’t you do it?”

He sounds like he’s driving. “Where are you?”

I look at The Mast’s exterior modelled after a neo-Georgian home. “That doesn’t matter,” I say. “Answer the question.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” I lie. “Maybe. Yes. I’m not sure.”

“Where are you?” he asks again.

I’m forgetting why I called him. Inside the bar, I hear more groans and cheers. Lights blur together around me. “None of your business.”

“Jesus, Alex. Where the fuck are you?” Each word is carefully enunciated, and a weird ripple of excitement travels up my spine. I like hearing him all worked up. I don’t try to untangle why that is. That’s a can of worms I don’t need to open right now.

“The Mast,” I say after a moment. “Flower District.”

Rowan exhales quietly. “Stay there,” he says levelly.

The line goes silent. I look down at my phone for a long second, trying to figure out what the hell I just did. Seeing Rowan is the last thing I need. What if he does try to kill meagain, and I just led him right to where I am? A swell of panic rises up my throat, but I swallow it down. I just need to leave, go somewhere else. Maybe back home. No, he knows where I live. What about Halle’s? But I’d just be leading him right to her. I can’t do that.

I hear a laugh spill from my mouth. He got into my house without a key. He owns half of Senna. If I wasn’t sure of myself, I’d be convinced he has some sort of tracker on me. Rowan can find me anywhere in the world if he wants to.

“Hey, I thought you left,” a voice comes from behind me.

I turn to find Sam. His smile is friendly, but something about his eyes has me taking a careful step back. “Still here,” I say easily.

“Looks like my team won’t be winning. How about we get out of here instead?”

I look past him into the bar. His friends are still groaning at the screens, but there is barely anyone out here. We’re on a quiet street off the main road.

“I think I’m going to head home, actually,” I say. “But thanks for the drinks.”

“Okay, if you don’t want to hang out, can I at least get your number?” he asks. “We can go out another night. How about tomorrow? You free?”

“I’d rather not.”

He grins; the leering kind that makes goosebumps lift off my skin. “Oh c’mon,” he says, opening his arms as if to show me he’s harmless.

I really don’t want to give him my number, but I get the feeling it’s the easier thing to do. He’s a big guy and he could probably land a good few punches if he wanted to. A fist fight is the last thing I want. It’s been a long enough couple of days as it is.

After we left Jim and Irina’s in Canning, Halle and I found jobs bartending to pay for the nicer shelters and food. There were always plenty guys like Sam that frequented the place, guys that liked to get handsy with Halle and I whenever we finished our shifts. Raw knuckles were commonplace back then.

I focus back on Sam, giving him the friendliest smile I can muster despite the unsteadiness I feel. “I’m not really looking for anything right now,” I say, keeping my voice level. “But thank you for the company tonight.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You’re not even looking for friends?”

I shake my head. “I think I’m just going to go home, actually.”

He takes a step forward, his mouth spreading into a smile I don’t like. I don’t carry my gun on me when I’m off-duty and drinking, but I do have my badge. Yet somehow, I don’t think that will stop this guy from whatever he wants to try.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t come any closer.”

He laughs. “Oh c’mon, I’m not a threat, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?