2. Paige
2
PAIGE
“Later, Sarah,” Ash calls when I’m done with my shift. “See you tomorrow.”
I give him a little wave. “Later!”
I push open the back door and peek outside. There’s nobody around. The drunk bunch left almost an hour ago, and the bikers not too long afterwards in spite of saying they would keep an eye on me. That bothers me more than it should, but now that it’s all over, I feel stupid for being so worried. It’ll be good to finally put enough distance between me and my problems that I can take a breath and make a real plan.
I’m not sure if I’m disappointed that Savage and his friends aren’t here because they said they would protect me, or if I just wanted to see them again. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. It’s not like anything would’ve happened.
Maybe in my dreams, but in the real world I smell like meatloaf and I've been on my feet since this morning and the sun is just starting to set. The door clicks shut behind me and I scan the rear parking lot. There are only two cars, Ash’s beat up truck, and the bright pink hatchback our dinner waitress Melissa drives.
I hurry across the dimly lit lot, heading for the street. Mike, the head cook and owner, is letting me rent the space over his garage for cheap. It’s not fancy, but there’s an old single bed, a dresser for my stuff, and I can use his laundry room and downstairs bathroom for free as long as I don’t go crazy with electricity or hot water. Best part is that it’s a short walk from the diner so I don’t have to worry about dealing with the almost non-existent bus system. I was half convinced he was some sort of creep, so I barely slept the first couple nights, but now I’m pretty sure he’s just cheap.
I’m doing the mental math on how many days I’ll have to stay here to earn enough before I run again when a hand covers my mouth, an arm goes around my throat, and someone yanks me backwards so hard I almost land right on my butt.
“Gotcha,” hisses a voice I wish I didn't recognize. The older guy from the table of wannabe hunters.
I try to stomp his shin but he dodges, and my attempt to scream goes nowhere, muffled behind his meaty hand. I flail in his grip, trying desperately to throw him off balance, but he’s too strong.
He yanks my back against his chest and holds me tight. “Easy, girl, easy. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
Are they here to bring me back? Or did I just have the bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? I’m not sure which is worse, and either way, if he thinks I’m cooperating, he’s got another think coming. Managing to catch his palm between my teeth, I bite with all the strength I have. He roars in pain and the coppery tang of blood floods my tongue. I don't care. I keep biting until he rips his hand away, leaving a little bit behind that I spit out with a horrified gag.
“You little bitch,” he snarls, distracted enough that finally one of my kicks actually lands.
I drive my heel into his instep, making him hiss. It would be more effective if I wasn’t wearing sneakers, but for just a moment his grip loosens, and I grab the opportunity to pull away before it’s too late. The door to the diner is right there, and I run for it.
But I forgot there are six of them. A fist to the back of my head makes the world go black so suddenly that I go sprawling on the broken asphalt. My head bounces painfully on the ground, and my ears fill with an ocean of buzzing. I scramble, fingernails digging into the pavement as my body keeps trying to crawl away on autopilot. They close in around me, laughing at my terror. I bit my lip when I fell, and the blood I taste isn’t just the old guy’s anymore.
The door opens. “Sarah!” yells Ash, holding a garbage bag in one hand.
“Help!” I scream, but it comes out in a pathetic garble.
“You haven’t seen shit, boy,” growls one of the men. “Drop the bag, go back in and forget about this bitch.” He pulls a gun and aims it straight at Ash.
I'm so screwed.
The garbage hits the ground and Ash flees back inside. I can’t even blame him. What would I have done with a gun pointed at me? Tears roll down my cheeks, but I’m too scared to make a noise.
“Stop dicking around, Cowen. Secure her before I fucking kill her,” growls the old guy, drawing air sharply through his teeth as he shakes his hand. “And slap some tape over her mouth. I'm gonna need a damn tetanus shot after that.”
“Keep fighting, you little bitch,” growls ribs-guy—Cowen?—as he pulls me off the ground with the help of one of the others. “Give me a reason to make this rough. It's only gonna make this sweeter. You’re lucky we’re supposed to bring you back alive, but now you’ve pissed off Eddy, and that’s bad news. For you.”
I whimper, hanging limp between my kidnappers. I should’ve used the money and kept running. Stopping was a mistake, and now I’m going to pay for it.
“This a private party?” The new voice is deep, a little raspy and unmistakably Savage.
Hope I shouldn't dare let myself feel rises in my chest.
Everyone turns, creating a gap for me to look through. All three bikers are here. Savage’s posture is loose, but his fists are clenched at his sides. Poe has a hand at his belt, and behind both of them, Crank looms with his massive arms crossed over his chest.
“Fuck off.” Cowen jerks his head and spits on the asphalt. “This is our business. We got here first.”
“Well, now we're making it our damn business,” Crank snarls from deep in his chest like an angry bear. “Let her go, and maybe we'll let you leave with your arms and legs attached.”
One of the others laughs. “Are we supposed to be scared? We outnumber you two to one. Stop embarrassing yourselves and get the fuck outta here. Do you really want to make us enemies?”
“Fuck off and let us work in peace.” Eddy finishes wrapping a rag around his hand as a makeshift bandage and faces the bikers menacingly, rolling his shoulders like he's warming for a fight. Three of his men line up with him, the threat obvious.
“I don't think you understand,” says Poe, his voice as dark as his eyes. “We aren’t asking. Hand her over.”
I’m frozen, terrified of what will happen if these men take me, but also scared for the bikers if they try to stop it. One on one, I have no doubt they would win, but six against three? And I know both sides are armed. If innocent people get hurt because of what I did… I send up a wordless prayer, not sure anyone is listening anymore.
Cowen laughs. “Sure. Let's see you?—”
Savage moves like lightning. One moment he's standing there, looking menacing but almost bored, the next moment I’m falling to the side because he’s dodged around the main group like a quarterback and tackled Cowen straight into the side of Ash’s truck, slamming him so hard I can hear the metal buckle. Time freezes as my brain struggles to catch up to what’s happening, and I don’t think I’m the only one. Savage shoves me to the side and is on the other guy who was holding me before Cowen even hits the ground.
This is insane. Poe is locked in a grapple with Eddy, and Crank roars as he charges right into the remaining three. He drives his fist into the middle one’s stomach.
“Watch out!” I yell, as one of the others jumps up on Crank's back, snaking an arm around his neck and punching his head. Crank growls, captures the guy's shirt collar and flings him off like an annoying pest. The guy sails over Crank’s head and slams into the bed of the truck. Crank headbutts the guy he punched, sending him stumbling away from the fight groaning with his head in his hands.
I’ve never liked fighting, not even wrestling or boxing where I know it’s all for sport. It feels stupid to settle differences with your fists when words are way more effective. Just because someone is stronger, faster or better armed doesn’t mean they’re right. But right now, it’s incredibly satisfying to watch the men who were planning to do who-knows-what to me get their asses handed to them. Brutally, too. Sensible, pacifist me can be horrified later, because bloodthirsty me lights up with glee when Savage nails one of them in the face so hard that blood spurts and a couple of teeth go bouncing.
Two of them team up on Crank, forcing him backwards while they jam their fists into his sides. My heart skips. Tough or not, Crank, Savage and Poe are still outnumbered, and strength doesn’t mean much if someone pulls a gun or a knife. Crank stumbles once, twice, and then gets his fists on the backs of their collars and with a furious roar, rips them away from him, only to slam them back together. I wince at the wet, hollow sound of their skulls cracking together like pool balls. They hit the ground and I look away, nauseous. Hopefully they're just knocked out, but that sounded bad.
Nobody is paying attention to me.
I should run, but my feet won’t move. I’m frozen, cowering in place, not sure I can take another hit and hoping the right guys will come out on top.
Poe whirls by, grappling with Eddy. There’s blood streaming down his cheek, and I see a glint of a blade in Eddy’s hand. Poe dances out of his way, batting the knife away and nailing Eddy in the nose with his elbow. A stream of foul language pours out of Eddy’s mouth as he flings away the blood pouring from his nose. Poe doesn’t give him time to recover. He grabs Eddy’s hair in both hands and drives his knee right into his face.
And then it's over as suddenly as it began. Savage catches one last fighter with an impressive hook, sending him spinning into Crank, who launches him into the air and grunts with satisfaction as he hits the ground with a crunch and lies still. No one's left standing, except for Poe, Crank and Savage, looming over the slaughter like they’re daring Eddy’s guys to make a move.
Poe wipes away blood from the side of his face with the back of his hand. “Fucking bottomfeeders. Numbers don’t mean shit if nobody knows what they’re doing. Bet they spend half their time chasing down parking violations.”
Crank laughs. He’s spattered with blood, but looks like he just got off a roller coaster and had the time of his life. “We can wait around and see if they wake back up.” He nudges one of the bodies with his toe.
“Stay focused.” Savage snaps, and he stalks right for me, crouching down and putting a hand on my shoulder. “You okay, Paige? I’m really fucking sorry we didn’t get here faster.”
I nod. My head still throbs from the punch earlier, and my lip will probably be swollen tomorrow. I bet I look like a total mess and Mike won’t want me scaring off the customers. I touch my lips and my fingers come back red. All I feel is shock. It happened so fast, and I’ve never actually been hit before, not on purpose. “Yeah, I think I’m all right. I’m just glad you guys got here at all. Wait, how do you know my name?”
He sighs and reaches behind his back. Those instincts? The ones that told me I could trust these guys? Suddenly they’re not so sure.
“Because we've been looking for you.”
Shit.