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And then, as if this weren't bad enough, the cameraman jumped up to follow along behind us –withhis camera.

I picked up the pace, ignoring all of them, even as the redhead scoffed, "Flanna, what a joke."

Yeah. It was.

And bigger than she knew.

When I strode into the restroom, the two women followed after me, leaving the cameraman to wait outside – or if I wasreallylucky, to take the hint and leave the restaurant entirely.

As far as the women, I wasn't afraid of them, not really. They didn't seem violent so much as determined to have their say.

They never got the chance.

Before either of them could get out a single word, the main restroom door flew open and the camera guy barreled in and made a beeline for the nearest stall.

I watched in stunned confusion as he dove into it and slammed the door behind him. When I heard the lock slide into place, I shared a confused look with the two women.

What the heck?

Our confusion lasted only a moment before someone else barreled in after him. Andwhowas that someone else?

Flynn Archer.

Of course.