Lisa had felt his eyes on her the second she stepped outside the double doors of the apartment complex. She wasn’t staying there, but she knew a girl inside who was trying to help locate some of her fellow “colleagues”. Names and addresses or known hang outs were neatly written on the back of a napkin and shoved into her jean pocket. When it got darker, she’d be able to get to work. For now, Lisa needed to eat and keep her head down. That was going to be hard to do, she realized, because of the weird guy.Â
Of course, Lisa didn’t know how bad it was going to get until he managed to sidle close and tell her that he needed to talk to her. When she blew him off, he said something that stopped her in her tracks. Anger and fear coursed through her. How the hell did he know? Did anyone else? Who does this guy think he is? Who does he work for? Curling her fingers inward, Lisa formed a fist. She might need it depending on what he said next, but for right now it was an outlet for her anger.Â
Turning toward him, Lisa gave him a good once over. Whoever he was, he didn’t look like much of a fighter. That wasn’t coming as an insult, but an actual assessment of the guy. Floppy mop of curly, dirty dishwater blond hair, a lean body, and blue eyes that were a little too apart for his face. “I’m sorry,” she did her best to keep her voice light and airy. “What did you say to me?” Could she blow this off as a case of mistaken identity?Â