Ruth's POV
The gun in my face didn't waver, not even a twitch. My breath caught as my gaze darted to the man across the counter. He was calm, too calm for a man aiming a gun at a stranger. His hand was rock-steady, his expression unreadable, as if he'd been waiting for me all along.
"What the hell are you doing?" I said, my voice cracking on the razor-sharp fear beneath my defiance.
He leaned his head to one side, an almost mocking smile spreading across his lips. "You've got a lot of nerve walking in here like it's any other night. So, little devil, did you come to finish what your family started?
"What are you talking about?!" My voice rose before I was able to catch it. The bell over the door hadn't even finished clanging, and already I found myself accused of things I didn't understand. "I don't know who the hell you think I am, but I'm not your enemy!"
