23. Lily

23

Lily

“Pay for your meal ,” Carl told me, nodding at my plate. “It’s not nice to run out without paying.”

I pulled out a couple of bills and tossed them on the table, because that gave me time to think. But no matter how fast my brain raced, it wasn’t coming up with anything. If I screamed or tried to run, Carl would probably pull a gun—I didn’t doubt that he had one, somewhere on him. His heavies certainly would. And if people tried to help, someone was going to get killed.

I couldn’t have that on my conscience. Not again.

I stood on shaking legs. The waffles and coffee were churning in my stomach. They were going to take me outside to their car and then...they could take me anywhere they wanted. Out into the desert, most likely. And this was a guy who sold women for a living.

Nobody would miss me. Not one single person. I could be gone for days—hell, I could be gone forever. That knowledge was almost worse than the fear.

We trooped through the diner, Carl leading the way, one heavy in front of me and one behind. If anyone noticed how pale my face was, they didn’t think anything of it. Mamma B’s was a nice, respectable establishment, which made anything bad that happened in it effectively invisible.

We emerged into blinding sunlight and oven-hot air, the sort of weather the locals all thought was normal. The sort I still hadn’t acclimatized to, even after two years. The heat surged down my throat and oozed under my clothes, soaking me in sweat almost instantly.

I saw the car we were heading for—a big four door sedan hire car. I faltered a little, slowing my pace as I thought about what they were going to do to me. The heavy pushed me from behind. How could I have been so stupid? How could I forget my gun?

I knew exactly why. My mind had been full of Bull.

My Toyota was down at the end of the parking lot. I glanced towards it, knowing there was no way I could get there before one of the heavies grabbed me.

Something was wrong. I shielded my eyes from the sun to get a better look. There was something...some one sitting on the hood. A big enough someone that the front suspension was dipped under his weight—

Oh, shit. My panic took on a whole new dimension. A battle started inside me: fear for him, fear for myself. I didn’t want him to get involved but a traitorous part of me soared with the possibility of rescue.

Carl opened the rear door of the car and nodded me inside.

From the other end of the parking lot, I heard my Toyota’s suspension creak as the weight was lifted off of it.

“Get in,” Carl said tersely. The debate was raging in my head, now: let them take me quickly, before Bull could get involved, or hold out for a few seconds and hope he could help?

No. It was no decision at all and I cursed myself for even hesitating. This was my problem and no one else’s.

I could hear footsteps approaching, but I didn’t dare look in Bull’s direction. I got into the car. One of the heavies climbed in beside me, the other got in the passenger seat, and Carl got behind the wheel. We’d been so quick, in the diner, that the car was still cool. My sweat started to go clammy on my skin. I’d been doing this for two years and I’d never, ever fucked up and got myself into a situation like this. Would they kill me? Or torture me to make me do the job? There were plenty of ways they could hurt me while leaving my hands and eyes intact.

Carl put the car into gear and we moved off.