The Wrong Target

Camille sized up the four men, her gaze sharp and piercing. "What do you want?"

The man who spoke wore a black leather jacket. He had a square face and a vicious grin. "What do we want? Miss, you're all alone with no one to keep you company. How about letting the four of us keep you company instead?"

Disgust flashed across Camille's face. The man reeked of alcohol, the stench thick on his breath.