“I can write the checks, so all you have to do is sign them.” Roger stood. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. If I don’t know what to do or can’t figure it out with common sense, I’ll call you.”
“Thanks. I owe you.”
“No, we all owe you.” He walked her to the kitchen and snagged a white plastic bag that held their lunches. “Here, go see your man and let us worry about this place. I don’t want to see or hear from you for a week.”
She spun and pointed a finger in his face. “But you’ll call if you have any problems, right?”
“Absolutely.” He spun her and gently pushed her toward the door. "We’ll take care of your baby. Go.”
She drew a deep breath and looked back, searching the busy kitchen. Finally, she nodded. “Okay. Thank you.” She gave him one more smile and pushed the heavy metal door open. The smell of today’s special, steak quesadillas with rice and beans, filled her senses as she skipped down the stairs. The asphalt radiated the heat of the day back into the small confines of the alley. Brie shrugged her purse over her shoulder and rounded to the driver’s side door.
The pain of her wrist being grabbed and twisted a fraction of a second before a hand clamped over her mouth immobilized her. On instinct, she screamed. “Shut your mouth, bitch, and maybe you’ll live to see tomorrow.”
No! Frozen to the spot, she felt the man’s spittle land on her cheek. She panted as her eyes darted to the restaurant door, but there would be no help with lunch service in full swing. The man holding her wrenched her purse from her shoulder. The leather of the strap scraped the bend of her arm when she tried to stop the son of a bitch from taking it from her.
She narrowed her eyes as her panic-induced immobility receded because she knew what to do. Her brothers, her father, and all the hours of self-defense classes had primed her for this moment. She was still scared, but damn it, she wouldn't let these men touch her without a fight.
She struck out with her foot, catching the other bastard approaching from the front of the SUV in the kneecap. He dropped to the asphalt. The man behind her lurched when she bit his hand. He clung to her wrist and spun her. The side of her face exploded in pain. The blond moved closer and pushed her to the ground, kicking her in the back. The other used her SUV to push himself up. He grabbed her purse and plucked out the money she had in her wallet. “You’ll pay for that, bitch.” They both swung toward the opening of the alley. The blond crammed her money into his pocket and launched her wallet at her. She turned, and it missed her face but hit her shoulder. They skittered away like rats.
Brie groaned and sat up. A sudden cascade of tremors shook her body. Oh, God. She'd fought back. She swallowed hard and drew several short, panting gasps of air. She rubbed her wrist which was sore from where the man had gripped it. She flexed it back and forth before lifting her quivering hand to her cheek. The pain there wasn't going to abate anytime soon and when she touched the swollen cheek, shooting stingers radiated from the bruise. A sound down the alley shook her out of her stupor. She grabbed her wallet and her purse, picking up the comb, pens, lip gloss, and various receipts that she’d left in the bottom. A car rolled past her. From where she was, unless they were looking between the cars, no one would notice her, even at noon. Get up before they come back.
Carefully, she got up and searched the ground. The bastards had taken her food, too. Great. She half-laughed and half-cried. Why in the hell would she notice that? What was she going to do? She turned and stared at the back door of the restaurant. If she went back in, she’d have to explain what happened. No, that would be a zoo. It seemed she was their target, and she was leaving for a week. By then, Roger would have the camera installed.
When they saw the security system, they’d find easier pickings. Growing up with cops in the house, she knew most small-time criminals targeted people who were unsuspecting and unprotected. She straightened and rolled her shoulders. No, there were a hell of a lot more important things going on right now. Two punks mugging her didn’t even come close to the top of the pile. She opened her SUV, got in, and locked the doors immediately.
She glanced at her face and winced. Damn it. Makeup would not cover that up. She started the vehicle and she made her way from the alley into the flow of traffic. She coasted through the drive-through lane of Famous Mike’s Burger Barn and ordered Ryker a double-double stacked. Double cheese, double meat, with everything on top of it. Two orders of waffle-cut fries, a large soda for him, and a chocolate shake for her. She’d eat her fries and drink the shake on the way to the hospital.
She moved forward to pay for the order and a young woman leaned out of the window and pointed toward the side of her face. “Oh, that looks like it hurts. What did you do? Hit yourself in the face with the car door? I’ve done that before. Man, did I feel stupid. That will be twenty-three fifty.”
Hell, that would work as an explanation, wouldn’t it? She wasn’t exactly accident prone, but she’d had her fair share of ungraceful moments. Twisting her ankle when she stepped off a curb, falling down a couple of steps when she wasn’t paying attention. “Actually, yeah, I did.”
“You want a
