I decide to answer with the truth. “He was supposed to be out of my life forever, but then he basically crashed my wedding, beat up the guy I was going to marry, then blackmailed me into riding off on his motorcycle with him.”

Doc regards me from behind the bar for a stunned second. But then nods and says, “That tracks. The Ruthless Reapers don't have a ton of morals to start with. Especially when it comes to women. But especially when it comes to women they want.”

Her eyes drift toward the office door the three tall Reapers walked through earlier.

I follow her gaze and ask, “Is that why you won't give any of those three guys who were flirting with you earlier the time of day?

Doc’s lips curl into a rueful smile. “Not any of them, all of them. Every girl in here knows, Vengeance is a package deal.

“Vengeance?” I repeat, not understanding.

Doc rolls her eyes, “Yeah, that’s what everyone calls them. They’re the guys the Reapers send for debt collection and stuff like that. They don't have the best reputation.”

I widen my eyes. “No wonder you turned them down. You're smart to stay away.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely smarter than that. No question,” Doc agrees. But her eyes once again drift toward the door Vengeance disappeared behind.

I’m not sure she quite believes everything she’s telling me. But she’s smart enough to at least pretend she’s not interested in what they’re offering. And way more important than that, the future doctor might be somebody who can help me get out of this mess.

“Hey, listen,” I start to say. “I know this sounds crazy. But I left my phone and wallet behind in Delaware. Could you loan me…”

“Hey, Brown Sugar, fifty bucks to show us your tits!”

I swivel around on the stool to see two guys, one nearly as short as me and the other even taller than the guys Doc called Vengeance. They both have patches that read PROSPECT on their leather vests, and underneath that, an insignia with a coffin overlaid with a spray of flowers.

So, not the same gang. But these motorcycle guys really seem to like the death theme.

The tall guy rubs his hands together and licks his lips. And just in case I think he’s not looking at me like I’m a woman-shaped piece of steak, he says, “When do you start your upstairs shift, baby? We’re in the mood for some dark meat tonight.”

“She doesn’t work here,” Doc informs them over my shoulder. “She’s not on the menu. So git now, boys. Go mess with someone too desperate not to reject you two dumb asses on sight.”

Burn. But the two prospects stay right where they are, both of them leering down at me.