It’s a shock that Luca doesn’t take my body, even though I see the way he looks at me. I feel the way he tightens whenever he touches me. It’s only a matter of time.
Only a matter of time before I escape from him, too.
I have to, because I’ll never trust a man again. I can’t risk it, because more than anyone I know what they’re capable of. And I have someone else to protect.
So I run from him. Candace helps me with that.
No matter how hard he tries, he’ll never catch me. I’ll run until my legs give out, until my dying breath. There’s a child inside me, one who deserves a life without violence. Without pain.
Maybe I deserved that too.
Chapter Three
One year later
The night passes in a dark blur of grabbing hands and sloshing amber liquid. There are too many faces to remember, and why would I want to? They’re either drunk out of their minds or leering at me. The tiny top I’m wearing with the Last Stop’s compass logo emblazoned across my breasts doesn’t help. Neither does the short skirt that’s part of the uniform.
I’m lucky it covers the white fabric of my panties. When you need to get paid in cash, there aren’t many options. I’ve worked in the steamy cavern of dry cleaners, looking the other way as drugs were sold out the back door. I’ve cleaned houses and barely escaped from one overzealous customer’s bedroom. I can’t say that I enjoy working at the beer-and-wings joint, but at least it’s honest work that pays well.
At the end of the night I count my tips and come up with seventy-four dollars and a heavy handful of change. Enough to pay the sitter, get food for the week, and put some in my emergency fund.
Angelica grabs another stool beside me. I don’t know much about her, but she works well and always has a smile for the customers. Now she looks tired, probably reflecting my own exhaustion. “Not bad,” she says, nodding toward my small stack of cash.
“Thanks, but I’m guessing you have me beat.” She was already here when I started working.
Every time I move, I end up a little farther from home. Texas, New Mexico. A detour over to Oregon and then straight north to Canada. Crossing the border was easy, but finding work without the proper work visas was harder outside the country. But I can’t stop. That’s how they catch me.
I kept moving north, crossing the Aleution Islands by ferry. That was two months ago, when the cold Alaskan summer felt comparable to a hill country freeze. I’m not sure what we’ll do when the winter hits hard, but I’ve learned not to plan too far ahead.
Angelica shrugs. “I let them cop a feel. Not too many women around here. They’re hard up. You could earn more if you wanted to.”
They cop a feel whether I let them or not. “This is more than I made at my last job.”
“You gonna tell me where that was?” When I don’t answer, she gives me a slight smile. “Didn’t think so.”
I can’t trust anyone, not even someone in the same position as me. I learned that a long time ago. People will betray you if they get the chance. They’ll leave you if they can. And unlike before, I’m not only looking out for myself.
“Nothing personal,” I say, slipping the cash into my little apron.
“A few of us are heading to Dominic’s house. He usually has good shit.”
That was probably slang for drugs or something. Weed? Coke? Maybe if I’d grown up in a regular house with regular friends, I’d know. “I can’t.”
I start to turn away, but she stops me with a softly spoken, “Beth.”
The way she says it, it’s almost a question. She knows it might not be my name. It’s common enough that I usually use it. And that way I can answer to it when someone calls me. Beth Smith. Beth Jones. Beth, Beth, Beth.
Schooling my face into mild interest, I turn around.
Her eyes are narrow, studying my face. Memorizing it? Comparing it to a picture she’s seen? My blood chills. That frantic beat kicks up in my heart, the one that tells me to run, to hide.
I take a step back.
Her eyes flicker away. “Someone was asking about you.”
The knot in my stomach turns hard and thick. I won’t be able to breathe again until I see Delilah, safe and asleep in my arms. I won’t be able to breathe again until we’re fifty miles away. Except the nights are freezing. What if my old car busts on top of a mountain?
“Elizabeth,” she says, her eyes knowing. “Blonde hair. Said you owed him some money.”
There are two men after me, but neither want my money. One wants to save my soul. The other wants to own my body. Either way there’s only one thing left to do. Whenever they get too close, I run.
I force my voice to remain even, conveying none of my panic. “Must be the wrong girl.”
“Yeah,” she says, not believing me for a second. “That’s what I told them.”
Relief floods my mouth, metallic after the rush of fear. If someone’s this close to me, they’ll find me soon. But it’s good to have a reprieve, even if only a few hours’ head start. “Thank you.”