We didn't bother to toast to anything. I tried my best to forget that I was terrified, and sipped on the bitter, dark liquid until it was gone. Ryan ordered another round, but when the bartender placed a full bottle in front of me, Ryan grabbed it with his other hand, drinking from them both. So much time had passed since I'd had any alcohol at all, just the one round helped to drown out the laughter in the background that became increasingly annoying as time dragged on.

When Ryan finally stood, I couldn't help but breath a sigh of relief.

“That's it? We're done?” I asked.

Ryan shook his head. “No, we're just starting. Zip up your coat, we're going for a walk. Once we hit that door, I need Oscar-worthy drunk, giggly college kid on the sidewalk, okay?”

“Well, I've never felt so giggly in my life, so this should be a breeze,” I deadpanned.

Ryan pushed open the door, and I hooked my arm in his. We walked a block, and then made a turn. After two blocks, we turned in a different direction.

“This is obvious,” I said, noting the dark street.

“Sshh, we're being followed,” Ryan whispered.

“Goody,” I said, trying to keep my steps in line with his.

Before we reached the corner, two men stepped onto the sidewalk from the alley. Ryan stopped, pushing me behind him.

“Hi there, boys,” Ryan said.

One of the men smiled. “That's a pretty little girl you got there.”

Ryan was clearly irritated. “Thanks. Tell your boss I'm insulted.”

“And why's that?” the other man said, amused.

Ryan smiled. “You're smaller than I expected,” he said, looking up at the ominous man looming over him.

Without warning, Ryan headbutted the first goon. The man stared into Ryan's eyes, stunned. Blood suddenly streamed from his nose, and then he stumbled back, finally falling to the ground.

The second man pulled his weapon. His small smirk quickly faded when Ryan and I traded glances, and then pulled ours. Every nerve in my body was on edge. Instead of fear, I was fighting back a smile. Pointing a gun, and being on the offensive was so empowering that I had to work to keep from giggling with excitement.

“He set us up!” the man said, kicking at his partner, shaking as his kept his gun pointed in our direction.

“Get up, Lenny! We got set up!”

“Put your gun on the ground!” Ryan growled. His voice sounded different than what I was used to. No doubt residuary from his tour in Afghanistan.

The man did as Ryan commanded, and then scampered off, pulling his friend with him. I clicked the safety on the pistol in my hand, habit from my lessons with Jared, and then stuffed it into the back of my jeans.

“That was the plan?” I asked.