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“He’s late.”
Someone snorted. “What else is new?”
“Are you thinking he is going to screw us over?”
The first one spoke again. “Potentially. He strikes me as a rat.”
It took me a minute to realize they weren’t speaking English. They were speaking Russian. My grandmother was Russian and refused to use English around me so that I’d be forced to learn. I didn’t think I picked up much in my childhood, but apparently I was wrong.
A phone rang, interrupting their discussion, and one of them grunted at whoever was on the line before hanging up.
“He’s here.”
“Let’s get this over with.”
Leaning my head against the dumpster, I shut my eyes. I didn’t want to let myself crane my neck in hopes of catching a glimpse of Tiffany. I needed to let go of the idea that she was going to help me. The door opened with a groan and the mumbling conversation moved along, my heart aching as the door clicked shut behind them.
“What are you doing out here?”
My eyes flew open. I thought I’d heard the three men go back inside, but when I looked up, one of them was standing in front of me, glaring down at me suspiciously. Terror swept through me, and I huddled into a ball to avoid him. The umbrella over his head gave me a reprieve from the rain only because he stood so close that his fancy leather shoes almost touched my beat up sneakers.
“I asked a question.”
His accent was thick, English obviously not his first language. I shook my head helplessly, shrinking away from him until I was almost lying on the ground. He studied me with a deep frown. I turned my face away, not willing to watch the disgust make itself known when he figured it out.
The alley was silent outside the sound of the rain and the low pulsing music coming from the club. My whole body tensed, waiting for him to decide what he planned on doing. I didn’t hear much of their conversation, but maybe it was enough that he felt the need to kill me. Who knew?
“Do you need help?”
His quiet question surprised me and I felt my gaze lift involuntarily to assess him. He didn’t look as angry as before. He almost looked concerned about my wellbeing, which was a first. People rarely looked twice at homeless people. It made them uncomfortable.
When his eyebrows lifted, I realized he was still waiting on a response, so I shook my head quickly. As much as I wanted to believe he was just asking to be kind, I didn’t trust men on principle. I had too many experiences where it bit me in the butt.
At the angle he was at looming over me, shadows overcast most of his face. I couldn’t see him well enough to even guess at what he was thinking. He said nothing, just watching me for a moment. The air felt heavy with unspoken questions, both of us staring at each other until the alley door opened with a bang and a younger man with long blonde hair strode out.
“Yo, Viktor. My brother is looking for you.”
The man in front of me didn’t look over his shoulder as he spoke. “I’m on my way.”
The blonde looked curiously at me for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and walking back inside, leaving me alone with the one he called Viktor. He didn’t look like he was in any rush to leave and my fear compounded, forcing me to drop my gaze to the ground. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the pain that seemed inevitable for accidentally eavesdropping.
“Here.”
His rough voice drew my attention, and I glanced up hesitantly. He’d pulled out his wallet and was holding out cash in my direction. When I shook my head no, he shoved the bills into my hand without a word, turning abruptly and heading inside without giving me a chance to argue. I blinked several times, frozen where I sat, until the door clicked closed and my brain caught up to what had just happened.
Shifting my gaze to the money in my hand, I carefully unfolded the bills. My mouth fell open, and I jerked my head up, looking toward the door again. Most people offered a few dollars here and there. I was always grateful, even when it wouldn’t get me much. Not Viktor, though. The massive bills felt heavy in my hand and my eyes swam with unshed tears. What kind of person gives someone they don’t know one hundred and fifty dollars? That kind of money would last me a while if I was careful.
He didn’t know it, but Viktor just saved my life.
ChapterTwo
With extra care,I managed to stretch the money out for a few weeks. It was the first time in ages that I’d been in a grocery store, picking out items that I knew wouldn’t go bad. The cashier looked suspicious when I handed them the big bills, but after checking with their boss, they begrudgingly handed me back the change and my items. I let out a long breath, feeling the relief wash over me for the first time in a while.
I’d taken to hanging out by the club where I met Viktor. He’d been kind and a small part of me hoped that he’d continue to help me. I couldn’t go to the shelters like Tiffany had suggested. I was reliant on other people’s charity to survive, and his money had fed me for the first time in days.
I saw him again just as the money ran out. I was back in my spot in the alley, peeking around the dumpster every time I heard a male voice, until I saw him and his friends stepping out of an expensive-looking car in front of the club. I stupidly hoped he’d look in my direction, but he followed behind the others, his expression tight. I was going to approach him, at least to thank him for what he did, but seeing the look on his face made me hesitate. He obviously wasn’t in a good mood, and I didn’t want to make him angry. He probably didn’t even remember me.
I settled myself against the alley wall again, drawing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I was a coward, and I’d eventually starve to death because of it. Too afraid to ask for help or even thank the people who’d helped before.
