Roman chuckled to himself and shook his head when Abigail asked what happened to make his morning less than good. “Don’t worry about it,” he said dismissively. “I just made a dumbass decision last night. It’s fine now, though—especially since I get to spend time talking to a beauty like yourself.” In truth, he didn’t really want to tell an innocent looking girl that he had gotten wasted and passed out in an alley. In all his years of hitting on chicks, he knew that was the quickest way to shut down a potential date.

“Really, [i]that[/i] dish?” Roman quirked his brow in mock surprise. “I was just looking at that one before you got back. You’ve got good taste, Abigail—can I call you Abby? I’ll take it.” He offered up another one of his trademark smiles. So far, so good. If things kept up like this, he would definitely be able to get her phone number before the end of his meal.

At that very moment, the door of the café opened violently, drawing the attention of everyone in the building. Roman turned as well, just in time to see two men enter, dressed fully in black, wearing dark shades over their eyes. As soon as they were through the doors, they stopped and looked around, as if seeking out someone or something in particular. Roman looked away, avoiding eye contact. It wasn’t a stretch to guess they meant trouble, and while he didn’t recognize either of their faces, it also wasn’t a long shot to assume they were looking for him. He had a history dealing with shady people, after all.

[i]Shit, shit shit…[/i] he chanted in his head. He slipped a little lower in his seat, hoping they wouldn’t come to his table. Of course, that was too good to be true. It didn’t take long for the two men to spot him. The made a beeline for his booth, lips pursed and foreheads wrinkled in anger.

“Hey, jackass!” One of the men, a tall, stocky fellow, snapped. “Think you could get away with what you did last night?”

Roman blinked, [i]Damn it all. What did I do? I can’t remember anything before the alley.[/i] His green eyes flickered to Abigail. Well, there went his shot with her. It wasn’t worth putting up a façade anymore. He turned to the two men, meeting their fiery glares with a haughty smirk, “What? You two just think you can waltz in here and expect me to fight you or something? This is a nice establishment. Show some class.”

“Bastard,” the stocky man growled, stepping forward and grabbing Roman by the collar. “You just expect me to walk away after you get frisky with my girl? Come outside and face me like a man, you sleezy coward!”

“I’m the coward?” Roman slapped the man’s hand off of his shirt. “You’re the one who showed up with a bodyguard. Don’t think you can take me by yourself, huh?” He glanced back at the front desk of the café, where he could see the hostess dialing numbers into a phone. Her eyes were wide with fright.

[i]She’s calling the cops.[/i] He clicked his tongue in nervous frustration. He wasn’t about to go to jail now. He had to get out of here.

“Alright, alright,” Roman held up his hands and slid out of the booth. “Let’s go outside.”

The stocky man clenched and unclenched his fists, clearly fighting the urge to punch Roman in the face. He cracked his neck and leaned in close to his face, whispering menacingly: “You’re gonna wish you’d never been born, punk.”

“Touché,” Roman snarled. He led the way as the three men headed out of the café, walking slowly so the other two would think he was being compliant. However, as soon as they were all beyond the perimeter of the building, he spun around so quickly that the men in black had no time to react. In a flash, he smashed both of their heads together, left them on the ground, unconscious, and sprinted for his bike.

“So long!” Roman laughed maniacally. “Say hi to the po po for me!” He started up his motorcycle and sped out of the parking lot, leaving the others to take the fall just as he heard the faint beginnings of police sirens in the distance.