They were in the darkest, meanest streets of San Francisco, stumbling their way home. It wasn’t exactly the safest route, but at least they had each other.
Marion—the most attractive of the group and with a tendency to flaunt it—stuck to the middle, her sister latched on to one arm and her niece on the other. It was the way they supported each other after a night of heavy drinking, and they’d had a lot of practice. They sang together as they shuffled along the empty street.
Only it wasn’t empty.
Seeing the figure in the distance, lingering under one of the scarce streetlights, Marion stopped in her tracks. “Can we go the other way?” she asked.
Her sister, Bianca, raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I just feel a little uncomfortable.”
“Come onnnn,” moaned Lucy, the niece. At only twenty, she was too young to be drinking, yet had probably imbibed the most.
Marion didn’t know what it was, but she just had a foreboding hunch about the man up ahead, like when you woke up in the morning and just knew something bad would happen. Nonetheless, she tried to convince herself she was just being paranoid. “All right.”
They hurried on, trying not to look at the man as they passed beneath one streetlight to the next. It wasn’t until they were directly across the street from him that he pushed himself away from the wall and headed to cut them off.
“Excuse me.” His voice was strong but somehow relaxed.
Marion froze, realizing her family had stopped walking, too. She looked at them—Lucy, who wasn’t paying too much attention, and Bianca, who only scrunched up her face and shrugged.
“Could I trouble you for a light?” the man asked, their backs to him.
Marion turned and saw the cigarette hanging from his lips. On closer inspection he was something of a looker; well built, a perfectly strong jaw, and a full head of thick, dark hair. “Sorry, I don’t smoke.”
The man smiled, and the women went on their way.
Seconds later, his sound of his footsteps came rushing behind them. “Maybe you can help me with another problem.”
This time, Bianca took a stand. She turned, almost ripping her arm away from her sister. “Look, creep, we’re just trying to find our way home. Leave us alone.”
Marion, her legs starting to shake, watched as the man’s expression switched from concern to humor. It was like he’d been caught doing something wrong, and an embarrassed smile began to creep through.
Then he took out the gun.
“Actually,” he said with a mischievous grin, “I was hoping you’d come home with me.”