into her hair, yanking her back toward him. She cried out, twisting her ankle as she tipped back, scrabbling at his hold on her. Tears stung her eyes. Her skin crawled as his mouth touched her cheek.
“I said, don’t.” The voice came again.
It was all she could do not to whimper—in pain at the agonizing pull of Drago’s hand on her hair, in relief that maybe her own stupidity wasn’t going to be the end of her, after all.
The moment seemed excruciatingly clear. Drago’s breath on her cheek. Her own whistling between her clenched teeth. And the faint scrape of a shoe on the damp walkway.
Her rescuer.
She shifted, trying to alleviate the pressure on her scalp. “Let go of me, Drago. I warned you to leave me alone.”
He laughed softly, and slid one hand over her hip. “We had a deal, baby doll. Remember?”
She wriggled against his grip. “And the deal’s off. You’re dealing dr—ah!” She fell back against him at another vicious pull on her hair. She opened her mouth to scream, but suddenly, she was free. She stumbled, tried to right herself, but failed. She threw her hands backward to catch herself, but the sidewalk still met her rear with teeth-jarring force, and fresh tears clogged her throat, stung her nose.
Her hair streamed across her face. The curls she’d painstakingly ironed smooth were springing back to life in the damp air and she watched through them as Drago scrambled up from where he, too, had hit the sidewalk.
The man who stood over Drago was tall. Taller, even, than her brother, Will, who topped six feet. And he was dark. She didn’t need the golden light cast by the iron lampposts to tell her that his dark hair was just shy of ebony, or that he was tanned. Not a cultivated tan like that her father maintained to complement his tennis whites, either. But the hard, bronzed kind. The kind worn by a man who could drop a thug to the ground without so much as creasing the classic black tux he wore.
“Don’t move.” Despite the laughter and music floating on the night air from the wedding reception, his quiet voice could still be heard.
She held her breath and looked at Drago, not wanting to acknowledge her own fear of what he might do. But he subsided, sitting on the ground, glaring at her, as if the entire situation were her fault.
It probably was, of course. Most things that went wrong in the sphere Annie Hess occupied were her fault.
And now, she had Logan Drake—her big brother’s friend—to deal with as well.
“Are you all right?”
She gingerly brushed her hands together. Her palms stung like mad. She’d been trying to get Logan’s attention for the past two days, ever since he’d arrived for Will’s wedding. She hadn’t intended him to notice her in this manner, though.
“Annie.” Logan’s voice was a little sharper. “Are you all right?”
She pushed her hair out of her face and nodded. He was watching her, his expression neutral. “Go back to the house,” he said evenly. “Call 911. And get your brother or your father.”
Her stomach clenched. “No.”
Logan raised his eyebrows. “No?”
Drago smirked with satisfaction.
Annie wanted to kick herself. She’d been working like a dog to convince Drago that their relationship was over, that she didn’t care what happened to him as long as he left her alone. “I don’t want to cause a scene at Will’s wedding,” she said.
His gaze drifted over her and she shivered. “Then you shouldn’t have invited your boyfriend, here.”
“I didn’t.” She eyed Drago. He’d been the last person she’d wanted to see. And though she’d threatened him with the combined wrath of her father and brother, she’d failed to get rid of him on her own. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”
Logan’s lip curled. “Right.”
“Ah, baby doll, don’t lie to the dude.”
“Shut up, Drago.” She wasn’t going to sit there on the ground like a schoolgirl beneath Logan’s censorious look. But rising was hardly an easy task, given the tight fit of her thigh-length dress. And she’d be damned if she’d hike the thing up to her hips just to stand.
Not with the way Drago was leering at her. She was nearly positive he was high. Why else would he have been so intent on getting her alone? Despite the appearance she’d fostered to others, he’d known the terms of their deal, and it hadn’t included her.
Logan finally made an impatient sound and reached down, sliding his hands under her arms and lifting her to her feet as if she were some toddler who couldn’t find her balance on her own. But when his hands slid away from her again, her heart thudded and her skin prickled in an entirely adult way.
His gaze traveled downward from her face, and it took every speck of nonchalance she possessed not to shiver visibly.
Logan Drake was her brother’s friend. He was also her best friend’s older brother. Yet she could probably count on her hand the number of times she’d actually seen him, and those incidents had left their impression. This time was no exception. He was dressed in the same sedate black tux that all the groomsmen wore, yet Logan possessed an edge the others did not.
And there was nothing Annie Hess liked better than walking on the edge.
“Get out of here, Drago, or I really will turn you in to the cops, myself.” She didn’t look away from Logan as she spoke. She’d warned Drago that she’d turn him in, that she’d sic her father, the venerable judge George Hess, on him if he continued bugging her. He didn’t need to know what an empty threat it was. She’d already sought out her father—and her mother—during the reception, when she’d realized Drago wasn’t going to be so easily shaken.
Neither George nor Lucia—that’s Loo-sha, dear—had been remotely interested in setting aside their champagne or their friends’ company to assist their wayward daughter.
Again, her own fault. She’d taken up with Drago in the first place to annoy her parents. But that was before she’d realized he was into a whole scene she wanted no part of.
Annie walked the wild edge, but she wasn’t a fool, and she had no desire to acquaint herself with a jail cell; which was definitely where Drago was headed if Will’s warnings were to be believed. Since her brother was already ensconced in the prosecutor’s office, believing him wasn’t difficult.
“You’re not going to turn me in, baby doll.” Drago rose, flipping back his shock of gold-brown hair. He smiled, as cocky as he’d ever been. “You and me are two of a kind, remember?”
That uneasiness she didn’t want to acknowledge coiled in her stomach again. “Hardly.”
“Annie, go and do what I said.” Logan’s voice was inflexible.
She looked from him to Drago. Going to her father would be useless. And Will—well, Will was already annoyed with her. They’d always been a team. But now her brother had married the dazzling Noelle and Annie’s one claim to any semblance of family who mattered was gone.
