Panic takes over. It’s pure instinct. This is all too much for me to take. I’m shaking. I have to be gone. I turn and run. I’m short, and I’m not light, but I keep myself in reasonable shape. I doubt I can outrun him over any distance, but I’m good for a hard sprint.
Head down, arms wide, I run as hard as I can. Cut through the crowd as fast as I can. And I weave. I know that much. At least My father taught me that. It’s what he always said about the people he owed money to. ‘Weave. Run in a zigzag. Present a moving target.’
People move aside, but the crowd is thick and space is cramped. I can’t believe how many people are here. They surely can’t all have turned out to see a gangster. I don’t understand anything.
No time to think. I push through to the edge of the crowd. Out of the parking lot, I run into the street and halt at the edge of the pavement. Six lanes of traffic thunder past. On the near side there, is a break in the traffic. No hesitation, I’m taking a chance. I dash as far as the reservation. A motorcycle blares his horn as he swerves. He misses me by inches. But I make it.
I don’t dare to look back. I don’t even know where I’m going. On the far side of the street is the back of a disused entertainment complex. Deserted theaters, hotels, bowling alleys. If I can get across the street, maybe I can lose the guy there.
A million times I’ve driven by and seen this place, run down like an abandoned fairy-tale castle. It looks gothic and romantic.
A break is coming up in the traffic. I’m not certain the gap is long enough, but I make a run. A big white truck is heading up faster than I thought.
I have to jump to get out of its way.
I get across the street and run headlong into the back of the derelict complex. Close up, the rubble and debris looks less romantic. More like creepy and dangerous. Somewhere scary things hide. Probably where scary things live. Scary people, too.
Still I don’t look around. I run flat out. But I hear his feet beat the ground, coming closer behind me.
I try to speed up. My heart is hammering hard now. My thighs are weakening. I see only one turn ahead and it doesn’t look promising. I feel I’ve got no choice but to take it.
It’s an alley. High sides and a dead-end. I run down the length of it, panicking. The crumbling walls on two sides are topped with razor wire. The other wall is high and blank with a single door at the end of the alley.
As I get near to the door, I hear noises behind it and they sound violent. I think about trying the door. How many more bad choices can I make today. The rise of panic is tightening my chest.
When I reach the far wall, I flatten myself against it.
He’s coming. He is so huge, I’m shocked and surprised at how fast and agile he is.
He is bigger than my father. Bigger even than the enforcers who came to see my father yesterday. He is so big, I’m wonder how big the parts of him are that I can’t see. This is no time to think about that. But I realize that my pussy has been thinking him about this whole time. My panties are soaked.
Chapter 4 Logan
I want to reassure her. I’m here to protect her. She doesn’t need to run from me.
Russ comes on in my earbud. I’m irritated.
His businesslike drawl, “Hey, where did you get to? People are asking for you, Logan.”
“I know,” I’m walking slowly toward the girl. My hand held out. Palm up and open. Showing her there’s no need to be afraid. She’s pinned against the decaying brick wall, looking left to right. Her hands splay on the wall behind her.
She looks panicked. The tips of her nipples shove through her soft shirt. She is so beautiful. What a woman. But with such innocent eyes. I need to protect her.
And I know that’s not all. “Russ, I have a situation.,” I snap, “Do what you have to do. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Logan, you—” I shut off the connection.
I move toward the girl, cautiously. The door beside her starts to open.
Three guys roll out, headscarves, shades, cut-off denim jackets. Muscled thugs, inked all over and pierced with shiny metal studs and spikes. They pile out, laughing and boisterous. Probably on drugs.
Their voices are abrasive and fierce. One of them sees her. They stop. Her eyes flash. She looks back at me, now pleading. She tries to make a dash for the door.
Bad move. Never show fear to guys like those. It inflames them. Can’t really help themselves after that.
“Lookee here,” the smallest one cocks his head, “What’s this we’ve found?” Slow, lazy. He has all the time in the world.
He leans against the wall in front of her. Blocks her way. The other two turn.
“Leave her.” I speak. Loud and firm. We learned that. Don’t shout. Command. It makes them stop. But only for a moment. I bound up to the one in the middle.
I assess the three of them. I want to go for the one who’s the greatest threat first. The smallest—ain't it always the way?—but he’s the farthest.
I’m need a strategic advantage. I don’t want to use firearms. That could get messy. Questions, investigation. I don’t need any of that.
My second choice is the biggest guy, the one in the middle. I land the side of my fist with a swing into the crook of his neck. It will stun him. Just for a moment.
The guy next to him sees it. Turns, just a little faster than his friend. As I expected. So his chin turns into the path of my
