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Still, I push on because that shadow was still behind me.
What if he’s one of Luca’s spies?
I have to shake him off.
I run across the street to the harbor and follow the road up to a warehouse that’s lit. Maybe I can go inside and find someone to lend me their phone. Then I can call Easton and find a safe harbor. Then get my sister.
But when I open a door, there’s nothing but a few crackheads smoking around a dim light, and when they all gaze up and notice me, I freeze.
“Uh …”
I feel like I stumbled into a private meeting.
This isn’t the best idea I had.
“What the fuck doe jij hier?” one of them says in Dutch.
What the fuck are you doing here?
“Sorry, wrong building,” I mutter.
When I turn around, someone blocks my way. A junkie with matted hair, torn clothes, and a mean look on his face makes me stumble back.
“Hmm … English, huh?” he says. When I attempt to pass him, he keeps blocking me. “Hey now, no need to leave,” he says, blowing out smoke in my face until I cough. “Want a drag?”
“No, thanks,” I say, trying to stay friendly. “I got lost, that’s all.”
“Lost?” One of the crackheads in the back laughs. “We’re all lost in here, girl. Come take a drag. We won’t bite.”
“Ja, we bijten niet,” another one says in Dutch, which means the same thing.
“No, thanks. I’d like to leave,” I say, but he refuses to let me open the door.
Fuck.
I don’t like where this is going.
“C’mon, sit down. We could use a little company from a girl like you,” he says, looking up and down my dress like he’s never seen anything like it before. “You look like you can afford some time off.”
One in the back opens his mouth. “Hey, vind je haar niet lijken op die mafia gasten? Je weet wel … De Vos en Baas.”
My eyes widen.
One of them just asked another if I look familiar … if I look like a De Vos or Baas.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This is not looking good.
“Ja, nu dat je het zegt,” another one says.
Now that you say it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I have people waiting for me, and I need to go. Now,” I say with my head held high, but my voice is quaky as hell.
When the matted-hair guy grabs my arm, I stomp on his foot. “Don’t touch me.”
The mean face turns to rage. “You hurt me,” he growls. “You think that’s okay?”
I jerk the door, but it won’t budge. Right then, the smelly dude wraps his arms around my waist and drags me back to where the others are sitting.
I scream, but he covers my mouth with his filthy hands. “Don’t fucking scream. It’s not necessary. We only wanna share.”
“Yeah … share … that sounds nice,” one of them says.
Oh, fuck no.
These dudes are completely out of their minds on these drugs.
“Get off me!” I yell, fighting him every step of the way. “I didn’t ask for this!”
“Yeah, well you busted in on us. It’s only fair of you to come join us now,” one of them says.
Another one gets up. “But I don’t think I just want her to have a taste of the goods …” The viciousness in his voice makes all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
This is not good. Not fucking good.
“Yeah, c’mere girl. We can have fun, and you can run off in those expensive shoes back to where you came from after we’re done,” another one says.
“No, let me out of here!” I say as one of them pulls me onto his lap.
“What’s that around your neck? A collar?”
I squeal when the guy wraps an arm around my waist, and tears stain my eyes.
“Relax, girl. It won’t hurt if you stop struggling.”
I fight him off, but it’s no use. It’s five against one, and I’m no match, despite the fact that they’re all drugged out of their minds.
Suddenly, the door slams open. A raised boot is all I see as a light shines inside. I block my eyes to keep it from blinding me. But a word still manages to squeak its way out of my throat. “Help.”
Something black and metallic is raised in the light.
BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.
Five shots.
One long squeal emanates from my throat as I duck for cover onto the floor, and blood splatters all around me.
It all happens so fast that it barely registers with me until the gunshots have stopped, and all that’s left are the lifeless bodies of the five men who tried to grope me. And me, on the floor in front of them, covered in blood.
I wish it was the first time I’ve seen blood, but it’s not, and the sight doesn’t make me fearful.
