The man looked up as I inhaled sharply.
His face might’ve been considered handsome if he didn’t have such a heartless sneer in his grey gaze. In his early fifties, his thin lips and square jaw weren’t off-putting, but the brown, untended to hair hanging over his collar was. Just a mess of grease.
“Who the hell are you?” He watched me closely as if he’d stumbled onto something interesting.
Chills broke out over my arms. Chills that had nothing to do with the Birmingham weather and everything to do with the cold-hearted specimen in front of me.
My chin tilted regally. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
The guy chuckled. “You’re in the middle of no-man’s land, sweetheart. I’d just answer my question like a good girl.” He grinned like a snake, stepping closer. “You lost? All alone?”
I ignored the way my kneecaps jumped, my legs tingling to run. “I’m not lost. I know my way around.”
“Do you just?” He licked his lips, that damn smirk grating on my nerves. “Know your way around other things too, I bet.”
I didn’t stoop to his level to answer that.
I’d wasted enough time on this cretin. Moving toward Gil’s warehouse, I paused as the guy muttered, “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” He laughed coldly. “Not unless you like seeing blood.”
My insides turned to lead. “What did you do?”
“Nothing that wasn’t deserved.”
“Who are you?”
“A friend.”
The longer I stood there, the louder my instincts became. They didn’t just dapple me in worry, they hijacked my nervous system.
Something wasn’t right.
Something wasn’t safe.
Gil.
Skirting past him, I held my head high, estimating twenty steps before I could tumble into Gil’s warehouse and be free.
But I’d made a mistake.
I should never have gotten so close.
He let me walk past, then a hand clamped over my shoulder from behind. All five fingers dug into my flesh with punishment that should never be used, especially on a complete stranger. “Not so fast, sweetheart.”
I spun in his hold, whipping my arm up and breaking his hold on me. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
My speed shocked him; his fingernails left hot tracks on my flesh. Our eyes locked, hunter to victim. I glowered back with far more ferocity than I felt.
His face shadowed with rage before clearing with a slightly manic laugh. “You know...I like fighters. Always turn out to be the most fun.”
I wanted to stand my ground, but I couldn’t override adrenaline. Stumbling back, my handbag bashed against my side. “Just go away. Leave us alone.”
“Us?” His eyes narrowed to slits, his gaze shooting from me to Gil’s warehouse. “You two together?” Hazy sunlight highlighted his cheek, showing a silver scar running from his eye to the corner of his mouth. “Has that naughty boy been hiding you from me?”
I didn’t know what he meant.
I didn’t care.
Fumbling in my handbag, I searched for my cell phone. “Leave now or I’m calling the police.”
He shook his head, still wrapped up in the idea that Gil had someone to stand beside him, that he wasn’t so alone. Slowly, an evil conclusion soaked into his grey gaze. “He knows what’s his is mine.” Looking me up and down, he snapped, “Get in the van.”
“Excuse me?”
“Get in the fucking van. Now.”
“No way.” I found my phone, ripping it out with quaking limbs. My thumb trembled as I unlocked the screen and tried to dial the emergency number.
He launched forward, reaching for it.
I held it out of his reach, only for it to tumble to the gravel thanks to my slippery fear.
“Stay away from me.” I back-peddled out of his reach.
“Get in the van, sweetheart. Your pathetic body painter doesn’t want visitors right now.”
“How would you know?”
“I know him better than you think.” His voice held the melodic rasp of an older person who should be wiser and kinder than most. If it wasn’t for the malicious stare and dirty hair, he could’ve been the sweet neighbour or family friend.
My eyes flickered to his van, then back to his gaze. For a second, I wondered if this was a sick joke. Surely, this couldn’t be real.
It was daylight.
It was England.
But the lack of humour and deadly seriousness of his intention made ice tumble down my spine. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Leave and I won’t press charges.”
He nodded as if I’d made a valid point. He laughed as if my point was utterly ridiculous. “See, that’s where we have differences of opinion.” His attention shot to the warehouse behind me, then slithered over my body. “If you’re his, he knows better. You’re coming with me. I won’t ask again.”
“Don’t come near me.”
He ignored my warning, prowling closer, assessing my escape routes.
I literally only had one option.
Run.
Run as fast as I could to Gil’s and bang on his door and hope to God whatever this man had done to him left him conscious and in some capacity to help.
The long length of warehouses with its aura of downtrodden-ness and alleyways wouldn’t save me at all.
Run!
Despite my injuries and surgeries, I was still strong. Strong and swift from all the years of dancing and discipline at not giving in.
I wasn’t afraid of hurting someone if they hurt me. I’d never been a wilting flower. I was vicious if enemies tried to hurt me and mine.
But I also knew when to fight and when to flee.
I ran.
Gravel scattered beneath my heels as I turned and bolted.
My handbag swung against my side. I left my phone abandoned.
I pushed as much energy and speed into my legs as possible and chewed up distance. “Gil!”
Footsteps raced after me.
Slithering arms wrapped around me from behind, locking tight.
“Let go of me!”
His breath gushed harsh in my ear as he dragged me backward, despite my struggling. His hands were claws, his embrace a shackle, his strength far greater than mine.
“No!” I squirmed and stomped on his foot. “Gil!” My screech echoed off the warehouses, bouncing back to me unanswered.
His grunt was loud as he clutched me closer, kicking my legs out from under me and hauling me backward. His palm fumbled over my mouth, trying to silence me.
I raised my head to the sky, and screamed at the top of my lungs. “Help!”
“Quiet,” he hissed in my ear, dragging me another foot.
I fought and scrabbled, scratching and clawing, but despite his age and slim build, his wiry strength bit into me like painful barbwire.
Gil’s warehouse grew farther away as the van’s shadow came closer.
If he got me into that van, it was all over.
My handbag swung uselessly down my arm, bumping heavily with resume folders, keys, and a large aluminium water bottle.
Throw it.
The command came from basic survival. I had no weapon. No hope. I had one chance.
Eyeing up the roller door, I caught my bag strap as it tumbled from my shoulder.
I didn’t aim for my attacker.