Tell Me Your Fears

Chapter 6: Robyn

Oh, God. He was out of his mind. Drunk, and completely out of his mind.

That was the first thought that passed me when he threw that punch after Anka called him a colorful drunk.

Chaos erupted inside the bar with chairs and tables scrapping the floor, empty beer bottles shattering with bystanders ignoring their drinks and filming the fight. A fight that never should have happened if the man hadn't stepped in. Idiot. He's even more drunk than I initially thought he was.

We ran as fast we could, our soles hitting the concrete as we take turn after turn toward Michigan Avenue. I can hear Anka and his men's footsteps closely behind us. I know Pavlov does too, but he doesn't show his worry. If anything, he must have sobered up now considering his steps were precise, lacking the occasional swaying like did when he was faced with Anka.

I don't even want to acknowledge that this was the man I met last night, of which had the possibility of exposing me. That makes him just as dangerous as Anka.

When we don't hear footsteps following behind us, we slow down.

My back hits a grimy wall and Pavlov bends over, his hands on both sides of his hips.

"You have officially lost your mind," I pant. "Why would you do that?"

"Three guys against one woman? Normally I'd watch if it was a porno," he says, matching my breathlessness.

"I don't know if I want to argue with you insinuating I couldn't handle myself because I'm a woman and ruin the camaraderie that's apparently going on between us. You have some sort of hero complex or what?" I pant.

"Or what." He smiles. "What'd they want with you?"

"None of your goddamn business."

"What happened to camaraderie?"

"That only extends to our desperate need to get away from those people, not sharing secrets while braiding each other's fucking hair."

When he doesn't say anything, I regard him only to find his gaze are intently on me.

A facial composite was given out to the public this morning of what witnesses at the ceremony described as the 'tinder date gone bad' who took advantage of Neil Peralta's whoring ways. The police sketch didn't even get my nose right. But the wig and contact lenses I wore was enough for people to keep an eye out on the wrong woman. The police never did say Peralta spoke with them. Made sense considering the fact that his millions were founded during his days as part of the mafia.

Some part of me was paranoid that this Pavlov guy could see through my lie.

I abruptly straighten my back. "So, now that we got away. I guess we should both go our separate ways."

"I'm hungry."

I blink. "Then go eat. I'm not your mother."

"Funny. That's not what you said earlier."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever." I nod my head toward the small restaurant across the street. "Food's cheap there, but don't order the scallops. It tastes like shit. Other than that, the food's pretty decent."

"Great. Let's go."

I don't have time to register his next move before he secures my hand in his and dragged me toward the street to prevent me from leaving of my own accord.

He doesn't let go until we had sat down on a booth. I don't say anything until a waitress comes and takes our order, Levi taking the pleasure of getting me eggs and bacon with a fruit shake.

The waitress seductively smiles at him before leaving for the kitchen.

Not once had my hard glare elevated.