Page 8

My phone.

A light flicked on in my head as a little voice took charge, reminding me that I wasn't completely helpless. I had a way to stop him, something that could get both of us out of this mess.

My pocketbook hung around my shoulder, dangling at my side. Lowering my hand inside as quietly as possible, I tugged out my phone. My fingers were shaking, quivering so violently I could barely keep the phone steady in my palm.

Dialing the police, I lifted the phone to my ear, as anxiety filled my veins like boiling water. The ringing seemed to go on forever, ring after ring, it was an endless torture against my eardrum.

A loud pop rocked my chest, the flash so bright it ignited like a lightening bolt during a thunder storm. Jerking my body away from the blast, I turned to face the wall, pushing the phone so hard against my ear it hurt. My heart was racing, pulse kicking so intensely I thought my veins were going to burst out of my skin.

No! He shot him!

Pick up! Pick up the fucking phone!

Tensing up, I stood stagnant, waiting for a second shot, anticipating a bullet in my back as I begged for help to answer my call.

“Hello, Wallingdale police department.” I heard the dispatch clear as day, and yet I was mute, unable to connect my brain to my mouth. Nothing was working, my voice, my lips, the tumbling words that were thrashing around inside my skull; I was a quiet ghost in the receiver.

“Hello? This is Wallingdale police, is anyone there?”

I'm here! I can hear you! I need the police, send the police!

The screams went on inside my head, an endless barrage of noise that couldn't be heard by anyone else but me.

“Can I help you?”

Help! Yes, I need help!

“Hang up the phone.” A man's voice cut through my head, slicing my brain into numb slabs of meat. Inhaling a sharp breath, I could still hear the woman on the line, her questions demanding and concerned.

I should have screamed for help, I should have made some noise to let the police dispatch know that I was in serious trouble.

But I didn't. My jaw hung open, my lids shot to my brows, wide and afraid.

Oh, shit. . .

A heavy hand fell on my shoulder, spinning me around. “I said hang up the fucking phone.” Yanking it from my hand, the man threw it to the ground and crushed it under his foot.

Everything around me fell silent. There were no voices, no subtle music; all I could feel was my body convulsing with spastic movements I couldn't control.

Staring up at him in shock, the white of his eyes lit bright, as a heavy scowl dressed his face. I could see the rage in his glare as his pupils expanded and thick lines creased his forehead.

But it wasn't the man that had held the gun, it was my stranger that had seduced me. With wild eyes and fear in my voice, I asked, “What happened? What did you do?”

“I warned him, I fucking warned him.” Raking his hand through his hair, he dragged his fingers down his face. “It's alright, everything will be fine.”

I wanted to believe him, but how could I? There was a dead guy on the floor.

“Fine?! Fine?! How is this fine?! You killed him, you fucking killed him!”

Flaring his nostrils, he gritted his teeth and snarled. “Let's go.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you,” I said, taking a step to the side and eyeing the door.

Inching closer to me, he attempted to reach out and grab my arm. “We need to leave now, let's go.”

“Get away from me.” Backing towards a stall, I tried to slink inside and shut the door.

Lunging forward, he curled thick fingers around the back of my neck, and pulled me out, forcing my feet to move with him. “I'm leaving and you're coming with me.”