Lion

“Don’t come any closer!” His voice became shrill. “I’m calling the police!”

“No, no!” She pleaded with her big eyes. “No police, Mr. Rivers. Please, hear me out.”

She knew his name. This was a targeted attack, he reasoned. He backed away from her, bumping against the shelf behind him. His hand found the neck of the uncorked bottle of Macallan, which felt unusually heavy in his grasp.

“Have you calmed down, Mr. Rivers? Can we talk peacefully?”