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“Come back here, you bitch!” She turned with a cry as she ran. He was going to catch her. Then he went down suddenly. Shit. He’d tripped over that pile of rags. She might actually make it.
Her car was just there. But she didn’t have her keys. Her handbag must still be in that room! With a sob, she raced across the road.
A car screeched to a halt, and she sobbed as she looked back to find him standing in the middle of the road, the driver of the car was screaming at him. She took off around the corner. She knew she couldn’t get far. Hide, she had to hide.
There was an alley. She ran into it and hid behind a dumpster.
Would the person in the car call the police? They had to, right? A masked man chasing an injured woman? Please let them call the police.
Even the cops would help her in this situation, right?
The world tilted around her. Shit. She must have hit her head. She was feeling dizzy and nauseous. All she wanted was to go home and curl up with Hack around her, holding her. Leaning over, she vomited as quietly as she could.
Shivers racked her body, and even though she knew she shouldn’t, she closed her eyes.
Please . . . someone find her.
* * *
“There you are.”
The voice penetrated the layers of sleep. The person had an accent, but she couldn’t place it. Fear filled her, even though she didn’t know why.
“No! Don’t touch me!” she yelled.
“Shh, Bebé,” he murmured. “You’re safe. I have you.”
“No, no, don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me.” Her body hurt so much, and she couldn’t open her eyes.
“I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe now. But you shouldn’t have come here. What were you thinking?”
“Sore. My head hurts.”
“I think your behind is going to hurt once you’re healed.”
Huh, that made no sense. And what sort of accent was that? Spanish?
“I’m really sorry about this, Bebé. But I can’t move you from here. Not without risking someone seeing us and calling the police.”
What? What did he mean? And why couldn’t she open her eyes?
“No, keep your eyes closed. It’s better that way. You don’t want to see my face.”
Why not?
Was he a bad guy too? Why did people keep trying to hurt her?
“I want my Daddy.”
“I know, Bebé. He’ll be here soon. Provided your brother calls him. Ahh, here he is now. I’ve got to go, Bebé. Stop getting into trouble, yeah? It upsets me.”
What? Who was this guy? And why was he calling her Bebé? And how come that sounded so familiar?
“Greer! Oh my God! Fuck. Motherfucker!”
Was that . . . was it Cash?
“Cash?” she asked with a whimper, trying desperately to open her eyes so she could see him. Make sure it was really him.
