56. Clara
Chapter 56
Clara
L eaving Trips at the other end of the alley, I speed through the half dark, ignoring RJ and Jansen on the earbuds. My breath too loud, my steps too fast, a familiar ache building in my knee, I barely skid out onto the street in front of the three gorillas.
I drop my head, hopeful that with my hair down, in a dress and snow boots, the head gorilla won’t recognize me until it’s too late. I need to look like a drunk fool who escaped from a dance club.
Please don’t let him recognize me.
Gulping down air, I lean against the brick and giggle.
Their eyes snap to me, two sets trailing my body while the head gorilla only gives me a cursory glance, intent on finishing the task at hand.
“Hi. Have you guys seen my friend around here? She said she’d come and pick me up, but I’ve been walking for ages.” I giggle again, tripping over my feet, then catching myself on the wall.
The head gorilla answers. “Nope. Good luck.”
“Thanks anyway, buzzkill.” I turn back to the alley, the hairs raising on the back of my neck with the three of them behind me. I take a deep breath, knowing this next bit is risky. Too risky. My palms are damp, my heart is racing, and I know there’s no way I can do this next step while facing them. I force out a too-loud whisper, hoping the bait is tempting enough. “God, what’s a girl got to do to get a good fuck around here?”
I stumble again, trailing my hand along the wall, weaving toward the dumpster halfway down the alley. If I know Trips, he didn’t stay where I left him—he’s behind the bin.
“Couldn’t get my boyfriend to fuck me. ‘Oh no, baby, not in a public bathroom. There are germs in there.’” Snippets of them discussing whether they have the time, something about the cops, and one guy pleading for a gift fuck, the conversation chases me as I step farther into the dark. I swallow my bile. “I couldn’t get that guy at the next bar to fuck me, because my jackass boyfriend had to show up and ruin it,” I mumble, the shuffle of at least two guys trailing me into the alley. Good. Two is something.
I stumble closer to the dumpster, my stomach in my throat. Barely audible, a sigh echoes down from the mouth of the alley, and a third set of footsteps starts after me.
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
They’re going to think they have me. And then I can say something about how I really need Trips and he can pop out, playing the angry boyfriend like he was born for the role .
I have a plan.
The gorillas wait until I’m almost at the dumpster to jump me.
The ping of a pebble against the wall is all the warning I get before one of them rushes me, my arms wrenched behind my back. My face slams against the bricks, all the air jammed from my lungs.
Fear. The sweating, vomiting kind takes over.
“Hey, baby. I can give you a real good fuck,” the guy behind me whispers into my ear. “We all can.”
I can’t speak. I can’t scream. I can’t breathe.
No bravado. No mask, no face, just me and the kind of terror a good girl spends her whole life avoiding.
I shake, tears in my eyes, barely able to hear past the roar of my heart in my ears. I fucked up. My plan was fucked from the start.
“Wait, Barry.” A new voice breaks in.
The gorilla’s hold loosens, and I slump down, my forehead scratching against the bricks, my hands barely holding me up, the roil in my gut unbearable. I need to ask for help. I need to breathe so I can scream.
Before I can gather myself, I’m whipped around, dark eyes searing into mine as the goon from my first attempt at foolish plans locks my wrists above my head, the brick nipping at my skin. “I thought that was you, little rabbit! How fun!”
I gasp for air, the world hazy, the storm of panic loud enough to block out everything else. I tug, but even with only his left hand pinning both of mine, there’s no way I’m getting loose. His other hand undoes his belt and fly, before yanking up my skirt, terror eating me inside out. “What, no quick words? No quick feet?”
The sound of flesh pounding flesh filters through the haze of my fear. Trips is here. Oh thank God. I can do this. One more minute. I can survive a poorly thought-out preplanned groping.
The monster glances over his shoulder, laughing as Trips crumples to his knees, the other two goons diving at him. He whips back, licking from my chin to my cheek, his eyes glittering with malice. “I like the taste of your tears, little rabbit. We’re going to have a real good time, aren’t we? Maybe we’ll even take you with us. A little bonus for all our hard work the last few weeks.”
A yelp and a crack echo from behind the monster holding me against the wall, but my vision goes blank in panic as his huge hand shoves down my underwear, an icy finger prodding my folds. Shit shit shit.
“Trips,” I squeak, the last of my breath pinched, needing him.
Forever passes as I try to pretend I’m anywhere but where I am. As I try to tell myself that this was the plan, that I shouldn’t be upset, that this was mostly what I wanted to happen.
My imagination fails me as the gorilla’s pants drop low enough for him to pull out his rapidly hardening cock.
I’m trying to figure out how to speak again, how to get someone else to come help, to save us, when the monster flies off of me. His head crashes into the dumpster, a sickening squelch and bang echoing in the alley before he slumps down to the ground, his shoulders pinning my feet. I skitter away, fixing my underwear, trying not to vomit at the contact. And Trips is there, pressing my face against his chest.
His shirt is soft against my nose; I can finally drag in a shaky breath.
I tap against his chest, one two three four five. Over and over, the groans of the gorillas filtering through my fear. I swallow, pushing against Trips’ chest. This isn’t the time to have a panic attack.
Never mind the fact I’m currently having one.
I can finish breaking down in two minutes.
“Thanks,” I croak, Trips keeping me in the circle of his arms, not letting me out of the ring of his safety. Knowing that I’m not better. Not by a long shot.
He smells like someone else’s blood and money; I’ve never felt safer.
“What do you need, Crash?” he asks, eyes glazed with rage.
I clear my throat, looking down at the three gorillas, bloody on the ground around me. “RJ, Walker, bring the van to us. We have a delivery to make,” I say, my voice oddly calm considering that I currently feel like I’m trying to shore up the Hoover Dam with silly putty.
Trips holds me tight, asking the question I need answered but am too scattered to ask. “How long until the cops get here, RJ?”
“I don’t know if we’ll make it.”
“How close?”
“Really close.”
I swallow back the tears trying to escape. “We can do this. Walker, do you have my fake?”
“It’s shit, Clara. ”
“But is it recognizable?”
“Sadly, yes.”
“Good.”
My fingers continue tapping Trips’ chest, the rhythm my last string to sanity I have.
Frustrated with my stupid choices, my body’s inability to just roll with the punches, I yank the earbud out of my ear, slipping it into Trips’ shirt pocket. I’m so fucking cold, both from not wearing enough clothes and from what is probably shock.
I don’t want to go into shock. I can’t.
“Trips. The other guys, I don’t want them to see me like this.”
He tightens his hold around me, his body radiating warmth that my own shivers devour. “Clara, give me something to go on.”
I press my face against his chest, his scent comforting me, giving me space to ask for what I need. “I need a distraction. A, I don’t know, a redirect. I—” I shiver, a different type of fear flooding me. “Could you kiss me?”
He freezes, the steady rise and fall of his chest vanishing. I turn my face, ready to step away, to give him space. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a gorilla staggering to his feet. “Trips—”
He sees him too, spinning and kicking the guy under the chin, and the gorilla crumples back to the ground. “Fucker.”
I’m still nestled under one of his big arms.
Slowly, achingly slowly, Trips turns back to me, his gaze trailing up my body, settling on my lips. Another shiver ripples through me, and he’s there, his lips on mine, his body forcing me back against the wall, the bite of the brick changed from a terror to a pleasure, matched only by the nip of his teeth on my bottom lip.
His hands skate up my body, one hand squeezing my breast while the other grasps my ass, dragging my pelvis against his.
My own hands tremble as I dig my fingers into his silky hair, tugging his head until he groans into my mouth.
“God-fucking-damn-it, Crash. Don’t do shit like this,” he says, his teeth digging into the crux of my neck like a punishment.
I whimper, the feeling so raw, so fucking primal, that only animal noises make sense.
His warmth wraps around me, the world fading into heat and sensation, the last of my shivers hovering just under my skin. This is what I need. This? It’s fixing everything—even my recklessness.
By the time Walker backs the van down the alleyway, I’m lost in a fog of lust, words incomprehensible until Trips lifts me into the van, the three men working quickly to load our enemies aboard as I return to the present.
As I’d hoped, once the lust fades, my brain kicks back in, sluggish, but functioning.
One last step.
We can do this.
We have to.