Page 25

Gwen

T he next day, I grab my car keys, ready to head to Lori’s, when another text from the unknown number flashes across my screen.

TEXT: Unknown: The clock is ticking, liar.

I don’t respond. Jimmy doesn’t scare me anymore. I’ve endured his threats before. He’s one man what more can he do that he hasn’t already done? I disregard the text altogether, hit the start button, and make my way to the walkway. Then I see it the same black car parked outside my gate. A mug of coffee warms my hand as I hesitate. After a brief debate, I walk over and knock on the window. No response. The tint is too dark to see who’s inside, but I’m sure it’s Trey, watching me under Dominic’s orders. I knock harder. This time, the window starts to roll down. The moment there’s enough space, I dump my steaming coffee onto the driver’s lap.

A door flies open, and a familiar face leaps out, screaming, “You bitch!” Fuck. That’s not Trey. The slimy Uber driver stumbles out, yanking at his pants as steam rises from them. I must’ve left third-degree burns all over his disgusting dick.

He lunges toward me. My fingers tighten around the grip of my .38 revolver, yanking it from my waistband. A bad feeling had been creeping over me since those texts started, so I made sure to bring the gun. My hands shake, but I keep the barrel trained on him. He smirks, his pants soaked like he pissed himself. “You’ll fucking regret this. When he gets ahold of you, I’ve already been promised a piece of that sweet ass. And when I do, you’re going to pay for this.”

He steps back, hands raised, still grinning like a snake. “Fuck you,” I spit. “Oh, I plan to.” He scrambles into the car, his overweight body moving as fast as it can, and peels out, tires screeching as he disappears down the road. I stand there, my breath shallow, my heart hammering in my chest. I’ve never pointed a gun at anyone before. What if I’d had to shoot him? God, when will this end?

The weight of the gun in my hand feels heavier than it should. But at least now I have a car I’ll never have to call Uber again. I shove the revolver back into my waistband. Deep breaths. Stay calm. The urge to cry claws at my throat, but I won’t allow it. You are your own savior. No one else is coming to rescue you. You’re a bad bitch, Gwen.

I get in and put my car in drive. Doing what I have to. Big girls don’t cry we handle business. I don’t even want to turn the radio on. I drive in silence to Lori’s, thinking about how my mother’s party is in two days. After that, I’m leaving this place. Somehow, I have to convince her to let Levi leave with me. It’s not like she’d miss him. Maybe she’d even see it as a good opportunity.

The door dings as I step into the diner. It’s packed today every seat taken. Lori is taking orders while some plates wait to be served. I grab the hot plates and jump straight into work, keeping my mind busy. Order after order comes through, refilling drinks and counting tips. By the time the lunch rush is over, my feet are killing me. I lean against the counter as the diner quiets down. Lori joins me, stress etched across her face.

“What’s wrong, Lori?” I ask. “Just one of those days, sissy.” She must be exhausted she hardly ever gets a day off. The rest of the day passes quickly but drains me. As the evening rolls in, I look up to see a beautiful woman walk into the diner. Long black hair flows down her back, matching her dark sunglasses. She’s dressed in leather pants and a skin-tight top, chunky gold jewelry draped around her neck. Gold hoops glint in her ears. Her glasses slide down her nose as she strides to the counter where I’m standing. She’s stunning. Her attitude screams boss. I pray she isn’t going to be a problem customer.

“Hi, what can I get you today?” I ask. She glances at me before grabbing the menu. “I’ll take some cheese fries with a Diet Coke.” She hands the menu back to me.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get that put in.” I turn on my heels and head to the kitchen, giving the slip to the cook. Something about her catches my attention. There’s a presence about her, something that makes me keep watching. She’s graceful but in a badass way.

The cook dings the buzzer. I grab the plate and make my way back to her. Setting it down, I warn, “The plate may be a little hot.” She looks up at me through long lashes. “Thank you, Gwen.” She reads my name tag.

Outside, the sun has set. “Why don’t you take a seat?” she orders. I glance around. We’re the only ones here. Lori is in the back, and there are no other customers. Cautiously, I sit down across from her. “Should I know you?” I ask, watching as she lifts a cheese-covered fry to her lips. “No, you shouldn’t,” she replies smoothly, “but eventually, you will.” She smiles, and something about it makes my stomach twist. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I bark out. After the morning, I had dealing with that slimeball who’s apparently here with Jimmy I’m already on edge. I jump to my feet. She calmly takes another fry into her mouth. “Sit down, Gwen,” she orders.

“No.” My voice shakes with frustration. “Why can’t you people leave me alone? Tell Jimmy if he wants me, he can come get me himself.” I turn and bolt for the back exit. Busting through the door, the night air hits me like a slap. My hands drop to my knees as I struggle to catch my breath. Maybe two days is too long to wait to leave.

The woman steps out the back exit, her presence forcing me to straighten. I gotta stop coming out here. Shaking my head at myself, I mutter, “I’m not going with you or that fucker in the Uber. And Jimmy can kiss my ass.” She lets out a low laugh. “You got some fire in you, that’s for sure.” She steps closer, and instinct kicks in. My hand flies to the gun at my back, déjà vu hitting me like a brick. I pull it, pointing it straight at her.

“Really?” She arches a brow, unfazed. “Really.” My voice is steady, but she doesn’t stop. Before I can react, she moves. A twist of my wrist sharp, practiced rips the gun from my grip. What the fuck? She holds my own weapon between her fingers, her long, painted nails stark against the dark metal. Casually, she offers it back, handle first. “You're holding it all wrong. Hasn’t anyone taught you how to handle a firearm?”

I snatch it back, my pulse hammering. “No. So you're not here for me?” “Oh, I am.” A sly smile. “Just not for that reason.” Confusion flickers across my face, and she catches it. “You’ll see soon enough. But for now, let’s work on your form. Point the gun back at me finger off the trigger.”

Hesitantly, I raise it again. “If you pull a gun, don’t hesitate. Let it be a part of you. Feel the weight. Control it.” I exhale. “Okay.” “The dominant arm keep it straight. Let the other relax.” She steps closer, hands brushing against mine. “This finger stays out, touching the barrel. These wrap under. And this one” she guides my index finger “stays right here, close to the trigger but never on it. Not until you’re ready to pull.”

Her voice drops, all seriousness. “And if you pull a gun, you aim to kill.” A slow nod is all I manage. She smiles. “Now put that thing away before one of us gets shot.” I do as she says. She steps forward, fingers threading lightly through my hair before letting the strands slip from her grasp. “You’re a lot prettier in person.” I blink. “Uh… thanks. I think.” A smirk, then she turns, disappearing through the exit. I stand there, the city air thick around me, pulse still erratic. Wondering what the hell just happened. And who the fuck is this badass goddess of a woman.