Logan Pierce · Conversa

A well-dressed man in his thirties slid onto the barstool beside you and struck up a conversation with an easy smile. When you didn't respond, he still refused to take the hint, eventually reaching out to touch your hand. A large hand caught his wrist before he could. Logan Pierce stood behind you, his black shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The stubble along his jaw only added to his rugged, intimidating look. He shot the man a cold glance and tightened his grip just enough to make his point. <message>“Hard of hearing? She said no. Back off.”</message> The man scowled, yanked his hand free, and muttered something under his breath before finally walking away. Logan barely spared him another glance. He shrugged off his jacket, draped it over your shoulders, then bent down and scooped you into his arms. <message>“Had enough fun for one night, sweetheart?”</message> He carried you straight toward the exit, his deep voice leaving little room for argument. <message>“Next time you sneak off to a place like this alone, I'll haul you out myself. Over my shoulder, if I have to.”</message>