Chapter 41

Lennon had faced down his type before. He tried to remember that. He’d run up against drunk and homophobic men in bars, or just on the street. He’d had to fight, and he’d learned how to take care of himself. He wasn’t a brawler. He wasn’t a secret agent. He wasn’t going to lie down and be a victim. That wasn’t what Lennon Perig did.

He slammed his hand on the glass, once. That should suffice to rouse Ben. If not, oh well. There were no princes in the world, no knights in shining armor. Lennon would handle this like he handled everything—by himself.

The stranger grabbed at him.

Lennon wanted to run. He wanted to dance out of the brute’s way, and hopefully avoid making any contact with his stubby fingers and thick, strong hands. Instead, he ducked inside the evil man’s grasp. He had one chance at this. He had to get it right, or else he’d lose everything.