AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I smile, wondering which one of her pipes actually needs fixing. But that's not why I’m here.
“No, ma’am,” I tell her, letting her down gently with a kind look.
“But I am looking for the young lady who came in just now. Do you know which apartment is hers?” I ask, noticing the old lady’s face fall.
But only because she’s not so young herself anymore.
I imagine not too many men come calling, looking for her like days gone by.
I move closer and press my hand gently on her arm, and I let her know it’s important.
“I think she might be in trouble,” I explain softly. “I’m trying to help her.”
The old woman flushes and pats her hand on mine. She tells me the apartment number.
“Thanks,” I tell her. “And if I have time, I’ll see about those pipes.” I fib. Glad when it makes her smile some before she watches me climb the rotting staircase.
I think her pipes are the least of her worries… This whole place should be condemned.
Walking up to the apartment door, I realize I have no real plans for what it is I’m even going to say.
But if everything today so far is anything to go by, fate is on my side. I watch with a ripple of excitement as my hand raps on her door.
But nothing happens.
I don’t hear any movement, and pressing my ear against the door, I can hear sounds from the streets outside as if there’s a window open in there.
The sound of a girl screaming, then suddenly silenced, is enough for me to force my way inside.
And shattering the door from its hinges as if it’s made of balsa wood, I can see the place is empty at a glance.
The open window leading to the fire escape may as well have her outline drawn all over it.
Shit!
If I hadn’t wasted so much time being nice to little old ladies, I could’ve stopped this.
But why would she run in the first place?
And straight into the arms of who?
Racing to the open window, I know from the sound of squealing tires that I’m too late.
I’ve been in this game long enough to know what it takes to snatch someone. Even if they put up a fight, it’s only moments.
Fuck!
My hand crashes down on the window sill, and the glass cracks before a thick shard drops, narrowly missing me.
But I’m not worried about myself or my hands.
I’m thinking about her.
Jasmine.
Thinking about what I’ll do to whoever took her like this.
Feeling sick to my stomach, knowing just what people like that are capable of.
