As we rounded the corner into the frozen foods aisle, I felt his body tense beside me. My eyes followed his gaze to the man at the end of the aisle — a man with a leather cut and a face I didn’t recognize. He was shorter than Talon, but his shoulders were just as broad, and he had a clean-shaven face and head.
His deep brown eyes locked onto Talon’s, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
“Stay close,” Talon reminded me, as if I needed a reminder.
His hand reached around my waist, grounding me as he steered the cart forward. The air in the aisle seemed to thicken, charged with unspoken tension that made my skin prickle.
The man didn’t move, his posture rigid, his eyes like flint. The Diablos patch on his leather cut gleamed under the harsh fluorescent light, and I felt the weight of
