Catherine balled out her hands into fists and watched as the four men stalked toward her. Though the leader was tall, the others were of average height and build. She was pretty sure she could take one of them in a fight—but she'd be helpless against all four of them. She took a careful, slow step backward, wondering if she could still turn and run.
The men came closer, and her heart hammered frantically in her chest. Their cologne was thick and heavy in the air, mixed with the scent of whiskey and alcohol. She took a deep breath, turned on her heel, and started to run. Within seconds a hand closed around her arm, and her shoulder jerked painfully in its socket. The brown-haired leader pulled her back toward the group.
"Well, boys, it looks like we have a runner," he said.
