Their heavy footfalls sound behind me instantly, my heart skipping a beat in panic. But then I remember, I’m the fastest on my lacrosse team and not pumping my body with drugs like the oxygen wasters chasing me, so I speed down the road with only one sneaker tied on properly. Darting down a back alley, I hoist myself onto a dumpster and use it to gain an advantage on the mesh fence behind, quickly climbing over and dropping down on the other side. Yells and shouts reach my ears, making me smile as I keep sprinting, needing another vehicle to ‘borrow’.
Finding myself back on the town’s main road, rows of shops lining each side, I curse and turn back towards masses of residential homes. Diverting from the streets, I take to hopping across back yards, vaulting over low metal fences. My eyes land on a plastic playhouse, the thought to hide out until the coast is clear crossing my mind. But I don’t know this town or its people and maybe the community will help to flush out the outcast in their midst, a full scale manhunt. No, my best bet is to get as far from people as I can before finding somewhere to hide.
Jumping over the last fence, I end up back on the street as the sun crests over the horizon. A figure at the other end steps into the road the same time I do, letting out a battle cry that sounds more like a demented chicken as I ignore the stitch in my side to run once more. Damn, when did I become so unfit? The god-awful sound of moped engines rattle through the air seconds before a mass of them swerve around the corner I’m headed towards. Skidding to a stop, my shoe chooses right now to slip from my foot as I turn back and hobble down the road pointlessly. The mopeds are on me in seconds, forming a circle to trap me in a cage of metal shitcans. I glare from one asshole to the next, widening my stance and refusing to go down without a fight.
A weight collides with the back of me, not even facing me properly. Coward. I hit the floor just before more and more bodies pile on top, pinning me beneath their rancid body odours. My arms are forced behind my back, too many pairs of hands hauling me up and roaming my body. I squirm and kick as I’m forced over the back end of a black leather seat, some bastard actually sitting on me and reeving up his engine. Vibrations shudder through me as I’m driven back to the main street, the blurred lines beneath my face making me feel queasy. I kick and scream, not that it helps.
Less than five minutes later, I’m facing the brass number seven on the motel door with dozens of grubby hands roaming my body. There’s a pause while the pussies surrounding me try to decide who should knock on the door, so I kick the toe of my sneaker against it, ready to face my own inevitable fate. Wyatt appears a second later, his hair wild as if he’s been grabbing it. I can’t help but smirk, seeing his unnerved expression making getting caught worth it. Almost.
“Err…A-are you that rich guy who needs to keep his sister in line?” A pathetic voice speaks up beside me, its owner as frail looking like the tone suggests.
“Story of my life,” Wyatt mumbles loud enough for me to hear, reaching out to yank me into the room harshly. Crossing over to his bag, he shoves me down onto the bed and grabs a thick roll of cash from the central pocket. Returning to the doorway, Wyatt raises his hand above his head to throw the money far into the distance. The squad scramble to race in that direction, shoving and elbowing like a pack of hyenas scrounging over a scrap of meat. Wyatt slams the door closed, his emerald green eyes blazing with fury.
“Did you think you’d be able to escape me that easily?” Stalking towards me like a predator, I hold his gaze even when I have to tilt my head right up to do so.
“Yeah, I did to be honest.” Slipping his hand around my neck and squeezing tightly, Wyatt pushes me back into the mattress and leans over my body. I could easily inflict some serious damage from this position, a few broken ribs, or a good old-fashioned punch to the balls but for some reason, I lie still. There’s a twisted light to his eyes that says he’s enjoying this, maybe even needs it. And stupidly, the thought that I could give him something he seems so sure he wants, doesn’t disgust me the way it should.
His grip loosens, my lips parting as I watch the change of emotion in his face. His square jaw slackens, a confused furrow to his eyebrows as his hand trails south. Through the centre of my cleavage, over my toned abdomen. My pulse quickens, a strange fluttering taking root in my stomach. For one split second, nothing else exists, only me and him. The lingering scent of his cologne rolls through my senses, coiling with my rational thoughts until I can’t remember what they were. His fingers graze my waistband and travel across to my side where my hand is lying uselessly.
A soft click sounds, my mind jarring back into action as the cool slice of metal at my wrist shifts. Looking down, I gasp seeing he
