Before the man could finish speaking, Zane whirled around and seized his shoulder with an iron grip, wrenching it backward with brutal force.
Wes howled in pain, "Damn it, Zane! What the hell?" His breath reeked of alcohol enough to knock someone out. Zane shoved him away in disgust and strode off without even looking her way.
Joanne stood right behind him, yet his gaze never found hers. The air hung heavy with the floral scent of her shampoo—soft, lingering, jarringly out of place.
Frozen in place, Joanne watched Zane's figure vanish into the shadows before finally turning to leave.
Wes, already humiliated once tonight, wasn't about to slink off without salvaging his pride. He cut Joanne off with a smug whisper. "He's done with you. Why chase after someone who couldn't care less?"
Jo
