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It’s the people. The people with partying and sex in their eyes. The perfume and the clothes that are too small. Everyone was vibrating with energy, and I only wanted to get away from it. I don’t care about the parties or hooking up or connecting with other girls my age.
That was high school. I’m past all of that. I no longer have even the slightest bit of interest to do those things.
Now my only desire is to study and keep to myself.
I pull the straps of my bag around my shoulders as I head down the street to where I left my car. The girls walked me to my hotel, and I ended up leaving the rental next to Caribou. It’s only a short walk down the block, and we weren’t quite ready for our night to end. But now that I’m walking in the middle of the night, unease hits me.
I don’t know this place. I’m unfamiliar with these people. I’ve always been leery of people in general, but this last year has brought out a whole new level of apprehension with the unknown.
I turn down an alley, taking a shortcut. The tall buildings also block the wind, which is extra chilly this evening. But maybe my shiver is more from my anxiety than anything else.
My legs move quickly, the thin leggings barely enough fabric to protect the cool breeze from chilling my skin.
Turning down a second alley, I pause, seeing two men standing at the end, talking to each other in a hushed whisper.
They can’t see me, and I back up, turning and walking behind a large dumpster sitting against the wall. The lid is propped open, and it gives me a thin opening to watch them.
“Where are they headed?” the tattooed one asks. He sounds harsh. I can only get a side profile of his face, but it’s sharp, angry. He looks fucking dangerous. He listens as someone barks into the phone, his head giving a barely-there nod every few seconds. “We won’t make it in time. Fucking stall them.”
“What is he saying?” the taller one asks. He looks just as brutal, though maybe a little less pissed. More emotionless. He reminds me of Felix in that regard.
I blink, completely enthralled and terrified at the sight in front of me. It feels like I’m watching something I absolutely shouldn’t. Like there’s a secret happening in front of me that I shouldn’t be privy to.
What—are they the FBI?
“I’ll see you in a few hours.” He hangs up, pocketing his phone and letting out a string of curses that makes me smirk.
“What did he say?”
He shakes his head. “Z and West are in Winnipeg right now. Z is fucking pissed because West is all sidetracked and shit. They got into it last night.”
The tall one grunts. “I don’t care about their petty shit. What’s going on with the Russians?”
“They were in Winnipeg. They aren’t now.” His voice is defeated.
“Motherfuckers. I’m going to kill West!”
I jump, his voice startling me. My boot rolls over an empty glass bottle, and I wince as it clinks and rolls against the dumpster, and a loud, echoing bang rattles through the empty alley. I crouch to the ground, shuffling back against the dingy wall of an old building. It smells like old beer and urine, and I hold my breath as the sound of footsteps echo down toward me.
Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me.
A shadow falls over my form, and I close my eyes, for the first time in what feels like forever wishing I could be back in Fargo. In my empty house and far, far away from these men.
“Well, well, well. Look what we have here.”
I keep my eyes closed. Maybe if they think I’m some passed out junkie, they’ll leave me alone.
“Get up, girl. I can see you trembling. Don’t piss yourself now.”
I crack an eye open, seeing the ripped guy with tattoos look so vicious as he stares down at me. Not a friendly feature on his face.
My shaky hands press against the ground, pebbles and rocks pressing into my palms as I push myself to stand. My spine aligns with the wall, wishing there was space—so much more space—between me and them.
It feels like one wrong move from me, and they’ll snap my neck.
“I think she’s a junkie,” the tall one mumbles.
The mean one lifts his brows. “Why do you think that?”
