The Darkest Pleasure

'About a job. Money.'

Her eyes widened. Dear God. They thought she was a hooker? So that was what they'd meant by 'someone like her.' Funny that they looked at her with disdain and yet were willing to buy her services. 'No, thank you. I'm happy where I am, doing what I do.' Well, not really happy, but they didn't need to know that.

'Danika,' Enrique called. 'Got people waiting.'

The men glanced at the entrance and frowned. 'Later,' Two said.

How about never? Seriously. A hooker? Closer to the door than Gilly, Danika gathered two menus and ushered the new arrivals to a table. They were a little unkempt, thin, clothing stained and wrinkled. They would not be good tippers, but the smile she gave them was genuine, if a bit envious.

She missed her mother like crazy.

'What can I get you to drink?'

'Water,' they said in unison.

There was a wistful gaze in the boy's blue eyes as he stared at the soda resting on the table a few feet away from him, condensation running down the plastic. Danika's head tilted to the side, her artist's eye seeing the heart-wrenching possibilities of a portrait. Human desires were always simplified when all but the bare essentials were taken away.

You're not going to paint anymore, remember?

It was too much of a luxury in this die-any-moment world. Besides, she had to feel to paint. Not just happiness, either. For her, painting required a wide spectrum of emotion. Fury, sadness, bliss. Hate, love, sorrow. Without them, she simply mixed colors and splattered them on a canvas. But with them, she would lose the edge she needed to stay alive.

Tamping down the sadness she couldn't afford, she handed the pair their menus. 'I'll be back in a moment with your drinks, and then I'll take your order.'

'Thank you,' the mother said.

On the way to the fountain, Bird Two grabbed her arm again, fingers locked in a tight grip. Danika stiffened, sparks of fury so hot under her skin she suddenly felt wrapped in flames. She couldn't fight the emotion, couldn't tamp it down as easily as she had the sadness. The ice she'd imagined coating her skin all these weeks melted.

'What time do you get off?'

'I don't.'

'We're asking for your own good. The world is a bad, bad place and unless you're one of the bad guys, you shouldn't be out there alone.'

'Grab me again,' she said through clenched teeth, ignoring his feigned concern, 'and you'll regret it. I'm not a hooker, and I'm not looking to make any money. Okay?'

As both gaped at her, she ripped free. She stalked away from them before she did something stupid. At the station in back, she filled the mother and son's drink order, her hands shaking. Her heartbeat nearly cracked her ribs. You have to calm down. Deep breath in, deep breath out. That's the way. Finally her muscles released their vise-grip on her bones.

She steered clear of the Bird Brothers on her way back to the table, remaining completely out of reach. When the mother realized she'd brought the boy a Coke, she opened her mouth to protest but Danika stopped her with a raised hand—a still-shaking hand, she realized with surprise. Hadn't calmed from Two's touch, then. Another deep breath in, another deep breath out.

'On the house,' she whispered. Enrique gave nothing away, not even to his waitresses, and would deduct the dollar ninety-seven from Danika's pay if he heard. 'If it's okay that he has it, that is.'

The boy's expression lit with happiness. 'It's okay, right, Mom? Please, please, please.'

The mother gave Danika a grateful smile. 'It's okay. Thank you.'

'My pleasure. Know what you want to order?' She withdrew the pad and pencil from her apron. Her hand had stopped shaking, but the muscles were so rigid she accidentally snapped the pencil in two. 'Oops. Sorry.' More carefully, she dug out the spare.

The pair placed their order, and as she wrote she scanned the diner. Another family had just walked in. She gave them only a cursory inspection. Less and less, she jumped when people entered. First few days here, she'd expected Reyes to stalk through the door, throw her over his shoulder and steal into the night with her.

Gilly motioned the family to the only other available booth, her gaze catching Danika's. They shared a tired smile. Danika's felt brittle, her nervous system clearly still raw from Two's touch. You know you can't react like this. You have to be prepared, ready for anything.

'Did you get that?' the woman asked her.

She returned her attention to her customer. 'Yes. Two hamburgers, one plain, one with everything, both with fries.'

The woman nodded. 'Great. Thanks.'

'I'll get this turned in. Shouldn't take too long to get it cooked.' Danika tore the page from her pad and marched toward Enrique.

Bird One grabbed her this time. 'Look. We don't think you're a prostitute. We just want to talk to you. Bad things are headed your way.'

Before she could stop it, instinct took over. In her mind, she saw her sister's panicked face the night they'd been snatched from their hotel room and carted to that fortress, prisoners of the monsters. She heard her mother's voice in her head: Your grandmother might be dead. Might have been murdered.

Red clouded her vision and fury returned full force, morphing her from woman to berserker. Attack! Never helpless again! She slammed her free hand into the man's nose. Cartilage broke on contact, and blood poured onto his shirt, his plate. He howled in pain, tenting his hands over his face.

In the wake of that howl, there was a heavy silence. Then someone dropped a cup. Clang, splash. Liquid gurgled over the tiled floor. Someone cursed. All of the sounds boomed like thunder, piercing her mind and jerking her out of the vengeful haze.

Danika's mouth fell open.

Two gasped, his eyes widening. He jumped up, breath sawing in and out. 'What the fuck do you think you're doing, bitch?'

'I—I—' A tremor rolled through her entire body. She stood frozen, fighting panic. She'd just brought attention to herself. A lot of it, and none of it good. 'I—I told you guys not to touch me.'

'You assaulted him!' Looming menacingly, the uninjured man settled his hands atop her shoulders and shoved her backward.

She could have stopped him from pushing her, could have shoved her pencil in his jugular before stumbling away. She didn't. Mortification blended with regret and both tumbled through her, overshadowing any lingering hint of fury. Where's your numbness now?

'You know what?' he said, snarling at her. 'You're just like them. 'She might be innocent,' I was told, 'so be careful with her. Be gentle.' I didn't believe it, not for a second, but I obeyed. Shouldn't have. You just proved how despicable you really are. Maybe you're a whore after all—their whore.'

You're just like them, he had said. Just like who? 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean—I—' There was nothing she could say to make this better. Clearing her throat, she smoothed the wrinkles from her sweater. Blood must have splattered her palm because streaks of crimson appeared everywhere her hands touched. 'I'm truly sorry.'

'Someone call 9-1-1, for fuck's sake!'

Oh, God. She was going to have to run again, when she'd only just settled in. If this made the papers…Oh, God, she thought again. Her heart once more began slamming against her ribs.

Enrique stomped out of the kitchen, double doors swinging behind him. He was a big man, both tall and overweight, and utterly imposing. His thinning hair fell into his narrowed eyes as he barked, 'You, little girl, are fired. And that's the least of your problems. Go to the back and wait 'til the cops get here.'

Of course she was fired. And deep down, she knew he was going to stiff her for today's work. 'I'll go,' she lied, 'just as soon as you pay me. You owe me for—'