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“I’ll get out of your hair for about thirty minutes. And, Mateo?”
“Yes?”
“Do us all a favor and either convince her you’re innocent or just let her go. Either way, please stop using my space for your courting sessions.”
“Noted.” He nods once and enters as if he has every right to.
Shaking my head, I shove my feet into my nearest comfy shoes, grab my wallet, and step out.
I regret not wearing a thicker sweater or a coat as soon as the cold air licks my skin. But freezing is a better poison than witnessing Mateo and Callie’s repetitive fights.
There’s the option of asking his goons parked outside to get me the coat, but Mateo will probably throw them over the balcony if they interrupt his sacred wife time.
So I opt to walk at a brisk pace to generate more body heat. I pass by a boutique that’s showcasing a beautiful dress with vanilla orchid motif and don’t think twice before I go inside and buy it.
Then I ask the lady to wrap it and send it to Gwen’s new address.
She’ll be coming home soon, and while I want to give her the gift personally, I’d make it awkward and she’d be turned off by me. So a contactless gift is the best option I have while hoping she’ll like it.
My lips pull in a smile at the remembrance of how she said hi.
My daughter told her asshole father to tell me hi. Not to exaggerate, but I didn’t sleep at all that night. And fine, maybe some of that had to do with how I kept tingling due to a certain man’s touch.
As much as I like to think I’m unaffected, my heart picks up speed whenever I recall the sensual way his lean fingers held my face or how his lips and tongue feasted on my cheeks. Why does he affect me so? Just…why?
I walk faster in a fruitless attempt to chase away thoughts of him and even try to focus on my surroundings. It’s the best method to keep from getting stuck in my busy head.
That’s when I notice I’ve stepped into a not-so-good neighborhood. Having lived in the ghetto my entire childhood, I recognize the stench of piss and vomit as a sign of poverty, drug overdoses, and bodies sold in the dark.
Oh, and a woman sleeping on stinking sheets with pills all around her.
Bad neighborhoods taste of bitter tears, expired food, and human waste.
Bad neighborhoods have a dangerous soul, a black heart, and the mercy of a tyrant god.
And even though I’ve done whatever it took to escape, I find myself back in this hellhole again. I wonder if I’ll always gravitate toward the danger from my childhood the same way Caroline did.
Maybe, like her, I’ll only find solace in a ruler of the underground who wouldn’t be scared of bad neighborhoods.
I slowly remove that thought from my head and whirl around to leave.
A rustle sounds from behind me and before I can investigate it, a thud pierces the air. My eyes burn, and the next time I blink them open, I’m on my knees, head lolling to the side.
I don’t try to look at my assailant or make sense of this situation. My shaky fingers find my wallet and I manage to grab my small pepper spray that’s attached to my keychain and press it aimlessly behind me.
The moment I realize I’ve made a mistake, it’s too late. I thought there was only one attacker, but a heavy boot slams into my chest, knocking me back with frightening ease.
My head hits a disgustingly warm surface—another person’s body—and stars form behind my eyes when a man punches me in the face.
His friend steps on my shoulder with his boot and I bite my tongue to keep from screaming.
The second punch comes, then the third, and by the time they finish, my mouth is flooding with a pungent metallic taste.
I don’t realize they’ve disappeared until I hear heavy retreating footsteps. Still, I lie there, my head as heavy as a brick, and my limbs sprawled out in an unnatural position.
The need to dissolve into the ground is far greater than my will to live, but the thought that they could come back and rape me, or leave the job to someone else from the slums, gives me the energy I wouldn’t have thought was possible.
I don’t know how I manage to use the wall for balance, pull my sweater around me, and walk, but I do.
