The bus stopped, and Dorian watched as a man put money in the collection box. Regulars had bus passes.

“Evening,” he said to the driver in a deep bass voice.

“Praise the Lord,” Jesus said.

The man nodded at Jesus as if greeting an acquaintance then surveyed the seats. He was medium height, a little taller than Jeremy, with broad shoulders under a fitted, dark leather jacket. Snug blue jeans emphasized thick thighs. He had on polished boots, a navy watch cap pulled down to his eyebrows and stood with legs apart, feet planted. When the bus moved forward, he stepped into the momentum. Walking down the aisle as if strolling the deck on a ship, he looked at each of the riders and made eye contact as though sizing up recruits. He stopped next to Dorian; his presence compelled her to look at him. Under thick black brows, his assessing brown eyes held her gaze.

“This seat taken?” He indicated the seat Jeremy had vacated.

Dorian shook her head no. Now that’s a dumbass question. He slid in behind her, so she dropped her leg down and sat up straight with her back to him.

“The Lord rebukes thee,” Jesus said. His forehead wrinkled in a frown as he looked at the man. His tongue darted out and licked dry, cracked lips. He shifted side to side in the seat then looked away.

“What was that about?” the man asked, close enough for Dorian to feel a puff of warm breath against her skin.

She jumped. Her heart sped up, and she became very aware of the man.