The man sidled up beside her, his eyes looking her over with a predatory gleam. Face tattoos. Leather jacket. The thick smell of expensive cigars and old scotch. He smelled dangerous.
"I see you're new here. Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?" he slurred.
"No, thank you though."
"Pretty girl like you, sitting alone, you want someone to butter you up. Don't play the long game with me, sweetheart."
"I appreciate your…forwardness but I'm here to drink alone."
Nora's polite refusal only seemed to embolden him, his rough hand reaching out to grab her own in a vice-like grip. Panic surged through her veins as she tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened, his fingers digging into her skin with bruising force.
"Come on, don't be shy," he coaxed, his breath now hot and sour against her ear. "I just want to get to know you better."
