Untamed (155 page)

“Hey, beautiful.”

Tight in front of me are two guys, maybe in their late thirties. They look drunk. They’re ruddy-faced, and have that glaze over them. They’re walking all wobbly.

I’ve got a really bad feeling about this. Alarms are wailing in my head. They’re practically bomb sirens.

I don’t reply, slip my hand into my bag and fold my fingers around my phone.

“You looking for some company? You look sad,” the one on the left says. He’s wearing a red baseball cap on backwards, and he’s grinning, baring yellowed teeth at me.

“I’m just waiting for the tram,” I say. I don’t want to tell them to leave me alone or to go away, because I suspect they’d react badly to that.

“It’s been a really long day,” I continue. “I work with old people, and one of them threw up all over me today.”

They just look at each other and smile.
Damn it
. They’re not taking the bait.

“There’s no nursing homes around here. You lost, honey?”

“No. I came here to grab a bite to eat.”

“You mean, while in your clothes that someone puked on?”

“No,” I say, my voice dropping. “I mean, I changed.”

“Well since you’ve had such a bad day,” the man with the baseball cap says, “Why don’t you let me and my mate here buy you a drink. You know, take the edge off.”

“No thank you,” I say, taking a step back. I can feel adrenaline pumping through my body, and I’ve got to admit to myself that I’m scared. I flash a look quickly back at the restaurant, but it’s too dark and I can’t see if anybody is coming my way or not.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go ’ave a drink, shall we?” the second man says. “Don’t worry, we’ll be heaps of fun.” He licks his chapped lips.

“I said no,” I say. “No means no.”

“Well, unless no means yes. And you know how it is with women,” he says, sneering at his friend.

“Isn’t that right, mate?” his friend says. “They’re always sending us confusing signals.”

I’m holding my breath. I don’t know what to do. I think about running back to the restaurant, back to… back to
him.

And I really don’t want to do that!

“Hey, fuckhead!” The voice is an angry growl, and I turn around to see Pierce walking up to us. He’s got anger in his strides, and his fists are balled. His whole body is like this charging tank, hard, with a promise of hurt.

“No, wait,” I say, trying to grab him, but he just walks past me. “Wait, Pierce. They’re drunk!”