Follow Me.

I tossed my long auburn curls over my shoulder, pretending not to notice the two men watching me from the bench across the street. I held my chin high, also pretending to not care. Pretending their eyes didn't threaten to send shivers down my spine.

You have a job to do.

As if I could forget that.

I shoved my hands into the deep pockets of my felt lined coat, marching down the busy city streets. 545 Melbourne Street. That was the address of this mysterious meeting place, where I was to be no more than a girl on a blind date.

I pulled a small golden mirror from my pocket, checking to make sure my lips were still coated in the lush red lipstick that had been laid out for me. I hardly recognized the face in the mirror looking back at me. The hazel eyes belonged to me, but the face, the makeup, the clothes- they belonged to someone else. I snapped the mirror shut, stuffing it back far into my pocket.

How did I end up here? I grit my teeth at the question that played on a loop, echoing in my brain. 2 years ago, I had started dating who I thought would be my future husband. Blonde hair, blue eyes, with just enough of that bad boy attitude to draw you in. I didn't stand a chance back then. I kicked at a stone with the pointed tip of my stiletto boot. I knew better now.

We had dreams to travel across the country together, seeing all the sites there were to see. We were going to travel south for the winters, and spend our summers camping out in an old van, living out our lives care free. As it turns out, those dreams were mine and mine alone.

My phone beeped in my purse as I stopped in front of a tall glass door. 545 Melbourne. I guess there was no more waiting.

I fluffed my hair in the reflection of the glass, catching sight of a man settling into a nearby windowsill to read a newspaper. At least that is what everyone else would believe. I took a deep breath of the brisk air before pushing my way through the door.

We were together for a short year, a year too long for me to realize that "bad boy vibe" was, in fact, no vibe at all, but a lifestyle. He dragged me into his gang before I knew it was happening. From that day forward there were 2 very simple rules. 1. Once you're in, you never leave. 2. You do what you're told, and you will live.

Goosebumps still crawled down my spine at his leader, Stryder's, voice as he read them out to me. I had to give up my entire life. My family, friends, my career without a word.

I smiled sweetly at waiter as he lead me to an empty table in the back of the dimly lit restaurant. I guess my date didn't know how to read a clock. I slid into the seat with my back facing the wall. If there was one thing being in the gang taught me, it was to always watch your own back. There was no one else who was going to look out for you.

I was a journalist before my world was torn away from me. I had just been promoted in my job the day he pulled me into the underworld. I cursed him every single day since then.

"For you, my lady."

The waiter placed a glass of Merlot in front of me. I frowned up at him, swishing the deep red liquid around in the glass.

"I didn't order this," I said pushing it away.

"I know," the waiter smiled, pushing the glass back towards me.

There was something strangely familiar about him. My heart pounded hard against my chest, sweat beading down my neck.

"I'd rather wait for my date to arrive," I sighed, pretending to be bored with the conversation. Confidence, no matter how fake, was the only way to survive in this world. I pushed the glass firmly towards him again.

His dark eyes flicked in the direction of the door, black hair falling over his forehead. Why couldn't I place this man.

"I believe there is a message for you in the glass," he murmured under his breath, a friendly smile returning to his face.

I chewed at the inside of my cheek as I processed his strange words. This was a dangerous game he was insistent on playing. I watched him through narrowed eyes as he slid the glass towards me again. IAN, his name tag read. I studied his face again, letting his familiar features run through my thoughts.

This time, I looked down into the ruby red liquid.

For help, order the lamb.

I looked back up at Ian who gave a slight nod, so brief anyone would miss it. Ian Bradley? My heart stopped. A reporter from my former rival newspaper? He simply reached for his pen and order pad, mouth still pulled into a smile.

I hadn't seen Ian since we were both sent to report on a fire deemed to be arson down in the city square 2 years ago. Not long before I was forced to give up my life. We were both new up and coming reporters in the city, battling to see who would reach the top first.

As it turns out, it looks like neither of us made it.

"Can I take your order, my lady?"

I traced my fingers along the edges of the menu thoughtfully, no more than an undecided customer.

"The lamb sounds delightful," I said sweetly, swirling the glass of wine with my other hand. The waiter locked eyes with me, his smile broadening. The first genuine smile I'd seen in years.

"I'll be one moment."

I bounced my leg nervously under the table as he disappeared between the swinging kitchen doors. What had I done? I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, ignoring the metallic taste that followed. Maybe this was a trap. A test of my loyalty. And I just failed miserably.

I tapped my painted finger nails impatiently against the wooden bar table. I was supposed to be meeting a member of our rival gang, unknown to him, to try and find out details of their next move against us. A blind date he thought. He should be here by now. I looked down at my gold plated watch, the second hand ticking by so, slowly.

"I'm so sorry to keep you waiting," a young man rushed up to me, his dark hair falling messily across his face. Nervously, he brushed it away from his dark chocolate brown eyes. I looked him over slowly, catching the a small wink as he continued to fuss with his suit jacket.

Damn Ian cleaned up nicely.

"Let me make it up to you, there is this wonderful cafe just down the street. Quiet, and has less eyes watching," he said with a playful wink. Smooth.

I held his warm gaze for a moment before reaching a tentative hand out to him.

"I chai tea does sound wonderful right now."

He smiled, taking my hand in the crook of his warm elbow.

"Follow me."

I let him lead me back through the crowded restaurant, his body carefully positioned to cover mine from any of the many, many windows. Maybe it was a mistake to trust him, but something deep in my gut told me to keep going. I pulled myself closer to him as we stepped back out into the cool fall air. He leaned in closer, his warmth sending shivers through my body.

"An umbrella to block that bitter wind," he murmured opening a large black umbrella above us.

I offered a small smile as he lead me, quickly, down the street away from the restaurant.

"Just a little farther," he breathed into my ear as we brushed by one of my observers.

I pulled my hood over my hair, holding it tight to my face. A little farther. I don't think my heart could beat any faster than it did to those three little words. I gripped onto his arm tighter, as he suddenly ducked down a side street towards the city centre.

"Where are we going," I muttered, my words carried away in the wind.

"Just one more turn," he said wrapping a strong arm around my waist.

Any other time, the gesture would have made my skin crawl, but there was something strangely comforting about his presence. I leaned my head against his shoulder as we turned the corner to where a little, brightly lit cafe waited. I cast a questioning stare through my bangs as a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I think I owe you a tea," he whispered opening the door for me.

I stepped through the door cautiously, dropping my hood.

"Layla?"

My knees threatened to buckle under me at the voice.

"Mom?" My voice broke at the sight of my mother rushing towards me.

I fell to the floor with her as she wrapped her arms tightly around me, sobs escaping before I could stop them. I had to be dreaming, some sort of sick twisted dream. I pulled away to look at her, to make sure she was real. Tears streamed down her face as she brushed my own away with her thumb.

"It's really you," she whispered.

"How-" I paused looking over her shoulder Ian who stood a few feet away. He shuffled from foot to foot, two latte cups in his hands.

I pulled myself from my mother's arms to walk over to him as he held a steaming cup towards me.

"I was put on assignment to write about Stryder's gang...I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you with them."

I dropped my eyes down to the black and white checkered floor below me.

"I've been following you for the past 6 months," he said handing the tea to me. "The police had their suspicions it was you, but Stryder was closing in on their undercover unit. I offered to help, but we had to wait until it was safe enough to step in."

A blush teased the edges of his face as I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face into the collar of his shirt.

"Thank you," I whispered, breathing in his scent.

His arms tightened around me.

"I'm only sorry I couldn't have stepped in sooner," he whispered into my hair.

I pulled away, smiling up at him through the tears in my eyes.

"You came at the perfect time," I whispered.

He blushed all over again.

"Maybe...once all this is settled...I can take you out again. Properly. Without the rescuing involved."

I chuckled, wiping a tear from my face.

"I think I like that idea. But there is one thing you should probably know."

His eyes widened slightly. "What's that?"

"I don't drink Merlot."