by Skye Warren
My hands are stained red from his blood, dark and dry. I move them to his pants, opening the clasp. His large hand covers both of mine, stilling me.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he demands.
I flinch at the word fuck. It’s a plea. A prayer. I’ll give him this in the hopes that he’ll be soft with me. Because it isn’t only me he’d hurt. Isn’t only my brother. There’s another life at stake. “I’m pregnant,” I whisper.
I hadn’t wanted to tell Leader Allen, but he noticed my lack of courses. He noticed the small bump during prayers. And he declared the baby a child of God.
Luca showed no pain during the entire time I cleaned his gunshot wound.
Now he sucks in a breath. “Whose child is it?”
I meet his emerald gaze, certain of this much. “Leader Allen.”
Fury flashes across his face. “He forced you.”
He didn’t have to. There are no choices in Harmony Hills—not for women, not for children. Not for me. “I’m not sorry he’s gone.”
“No,” he murmurs. “You were ready to shoot him. Instead you shot me, because you think I’m the same.”
I see the way he looks at my body beneath the shift. I see the hard ridge in his pants when I’m near him. He wants the same thing that Leader Allen took from me. And maybe I could have survived that, if I didn’t have someone else to think about.
We stop in a city so large it takes my breath away.
There’s a hotel room with windows that look out over the buildings, so high it makes me dizzy. In that room Luca steals some of my secrets. He makes me tell him who Leader Allen sent. My brother. Alex. I don’t know whether Alex deserves to be punished, to be killed, for what he’s done, but I don’t want to be the one to cause it. My only solace is that he never returned after his last mission. Luca will have to find him first.
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.”
She hesitates. “They offered me fifty bucks for information.”
My hands tighten on my rolled-up apron. If I need to go on the run again, I need all the money I can get. Gas money, convenience store food. Deposit at another crappy apartment.
Still, she protected me. That counts for something, doesn’t it? I don’t know anymore what true friendship would be. Maybe I never did. All I can hope for is the fleeting kindness of strangers. My fingers numb, I fumble for fifty dollars.
The slap of the cash on the scarred table surface is the only sound in the bar. She watches me, her eyes dark and mysterious. Did she really tell them I wasn’t here? Or maybe they’re already at my apartment. People will lie if I let them. Didn’t I learn that a long time ago?
Without another word, I’m gone.
Chapter Four
Things go from bad to worse when I twist the key to my car. Nothing happens. The engine doesn’t even turn over. I squeeze my hands on the old leather steering wheel like it can feel my tension.
“Come on,” I whisper. “Don’t bail on me now.”
I got the car down in
Wyoming for five hundred dollars flat. That included the stolen plates. It’s done well for me, but I don’t have the money to get it fixed. I can’t afford to stick around, either.
Light flashes off metal from the truck parking lot, around the side of the Last Stop. Most of the diners who come through are truckers. Either that or they work in the logging station about a mile down the road. All of them look rough and dangerous. Maybe that was my mistake, ending up in a place without many women. I stand out even though I keep my head down.
I step out of the car and lift up the hood as if I know anything about cars. I could bake a pie or recite all twelve-thousand words in the Book of Job. That’s the skill set you get growing up in Harmony Hills. The first time I tried to use a microwave, I started a fire because I’d put tin foil inside.
The crunch of boots on the brittle ground makes me stiffen.
“What’s wrong, little girl?”
“Nothing.”
There must be some kind of sixth sense men have when a woman is desperate. They come out of the woodwork like they were just waiting for the signal. Another man approaches us, his gait unsteady enough to tell me he’s flat drunk. As he passes under the single parking lot lamp, I get a good look at his face. Jimmy John. Two names, just like that. He works at the logging station. The other man, I’m guessing he’s got a rig.
I get enough crude offers every night bussing tables to know what either of these men would want in exchange for a ride to my apartment. It’s easy to say no. I’ve had enough of men’s desire to last a lifetime. Less easy to make sure they respect my answer.
“Looks to me like you’ve got yourself in a bit of trouble,” says Jimmy John.
“My boyfriend’s on the way.” This is one of the few times in my life I wish I had a man around. A man like Luca Almanzar, who could pound any one of these men into the pavement. And how long would it have taken for him to turn his fists on me?
The first man steps back. That’s how things work around here. You don’t touch a woman unless you want a fight with her man. A woman alone is fair game. There’s a reason this place is called the Last Stop. We’re far from civilization now.
Jimmy John smiles, his gold tooth glinting in the moonlight. “Now, darling. I’ve seen you in here every night for two months. You ain’t never mentioned a boyfriend before. You wouldn’t be lying to Jimmy John, now would you?”
My voice only shakes a little on the lie. “Fine, you go ahead and wait around. See what happens when he gets here. But he’s got a temper. I should know.”
His eyes narrow. “All right. I’ll just be waiting over there. We’ll see who shows up, then, won’t we?”
Both men head over to the front of the building, gone dark now after 4 a.m. I don’t know whether Angelica’s inside, but if I looked for her, I’d prove there’s no boyfriend. And then we’d both be in trouble. Besides, I’ll have to pass them to get to the door.
Men with too much to drink, too much desire. I’ve learned not to provoke them.
I make a show of pulling out my phone, as if I’m checking for a call from my boyfriend. The truth is I ran out of minutes on my prepaid months ago. It hasn’t been a priority, not with the high gas bill keeping the apartment warm.
My apartment is within walking distance. Maybe I’d make it there before they catch me.
Maybe not.
Cold air whistles through the seams in my jacket. I bought this at a thrift shop in Oregon. It can’t do much against the frigid Alaska air. My options are running out fast, sand through my fingers. If these men don’t get me, the cold will. And Delilah is back at the apartment building, maybe in danger. My daughter. My little girl.
When I was back in Harmony Hills, courage felt like an impossible mountain to climb. I’d never be strong enough to fight back against my mama or Leader Allen. I’d never be free.
Then I got pregnant. From the first time Delilah kicked inside me, courage came easy. I’d do anything for her. That’s how I got the strength to steal the rifle. And it’s how I get the strength to bolt from my car. My Mary Janes slap the gravel, breath coming in freezing bursts. The whole world seems to blur, as if I’ve fallen through cracked ice.
From far away I hear shouts, the sound of boots coming after me.
Please, God, I pray. If there was ever a time I need to be delivered from evil…
He never answered my prayers before. He doesn’t do that now either.
A hand wraps in my long hair. I’ve never been able to cut it. There’s so much I never got to do. Then I’m yanked back, legs scraping against sharp rocks, landing hard on my palms.
Jimmy John sneers down at me. He swings one leg over me, climbing on top right in the parking lot. They aren’t just going to hurt me, I realize. They’re going to kill me. If not from my injuries, then from exposure. I’m never leaving the Last Stop after tonight. More men surround me, some carrying bottles of liquor, shouting, cheering. There’s no walking away from this.
An inhuman roar splits the night, and the hair on the back of my neck prickles. I see the whites of Jimmy John’s eyes a second before he looks up. Something slams into his face, and he topples backward. I don’t wait to see who hit him or why.
All I can see are two men fighting, hulking shadows in the dark. The other men have backed up to give them space. One man pins the other to the concrete, his fists a steady rain. The one slumps, his open mouth revealing the glint of gold. Jimmy John. Is he unconscious? Dead?
The man who’s beating him swings toward me.
Shock jolts through me. “Luca?”
“Get out of here,” he growls.
His face is twisted in a snarl, the light in his green eyes almost otherworldly. It wasn’t God who answered my call for help. It’s the devil himself, come to bring me home.
I don’t want to see who wins the fight. I run like the hounds of hell are at my feet.
It takes only minutes to run from the parking lot to the road, but it feels like eternity in these shoes. Loose change spills from my apron, but I don’t have time to stop.
For a breathless moment I hear someone following me, footsteps pounding closer. I glance over my shoulder in time to see a man running after me. The report of the gun echoes through the cavernous landscape. The man falls to the ground, revealing Luca holding a gun. He saved me.
Our eyes lock. Time stills. There’s only him and me in the endless frozen desert, the black hole on land. He found me here. He must have been the one asking questions about me.
A punch to his jaw breaks the connection. While he’s down, they jump on him like a pack of hyenas, tearing at him from all sides. Luca is built for fighting, muscle packed on muscle, but he doesn’t stand a chance.
They’re going to kill him.
That’s what they would have done to me. Every cell in my body wants to run back and help him. I know I’d die too, but some things are worth dying for. And that’s why I have to leave. Delilah needs me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper before I turn and run.
Chapter Five
By the time I see my apartment over the hill, I’ve lost them.
There aren’t any footsteps behind me. The men were too busy beating the life out of Luca to follow me. An image flashes through my mind—Luca’s powerful body, the pack of men surrounding him. My stomach clenches, and I put my hands against it, doubling over.
The night air is thick in my throat, threatening to choke me. Tears prick my eyes, but I force them back. There’s no time for weakness. No room for emotion in my life.
I climb the rickety metal steps that sway when you use them. The wind plays a haunting melody through the rusted rails, growing louder as the night gets cold.
A rustle of white ruffled lace.
Mrs. Lawson opens the door before I can knock. She listens for the telltale song of the stairs. “What a night,” she says, shivering at the gust of outside air. “Come inside, child. Quick.”
I step into the dimly lit room, looking at the comforti
ng family pictures for the last time. Mrs. Lawson is a large black woman who gave birth to four sons. They’re shown as babies, as children. As smirking teenage boys. A couple are wearing military uniforms. Then the pictures stop. I’ve never worked up the courage to ask what happened to them, and now I never will.
The heat in her apartment abrades my skin, a painful warmth. “Is she okay?”
“Of course, child. She went down easy tonight. You must have tired her out with all that story time. How many times did you have to read about that mouse?”
“I lost count after ten.”
My feet are bringing me down the small hallway to the very end. The door is open, light off. Delilah’s little fist is visible, having fallen outside the blanket. Her dark curls cover her expression, but I know she’s sleeping. Lord knows she doesn’t stay still that long if she isn’t. Sometimes she struggles to fall asleep, but she always stays that way once she does. No amount of sound can wake her.
“What’s wrong?” Mrs. Lawson asks softly, standing beside me.
“I’ve got to go.” My throat clenches because we had a good thing going. Delilah’s sweet on Mrs. Lawson and her many pictures. That girl loves stories. “I can pay you through the end of the week, but—”
“No, child. If it’s as bad as I think, then you’re going to need it more than me.”
I need so much more than I have saved, especially with my car broken and stuck at the Last Stop. The men probably took a bat to it once they finished with Luca. My heart squeezes. Why did he come after me? Why did he protect me? Except I know the answer to that.
He wants the same thing Leader Allen took—my body.
The fact that I don’t have a car means I need a plan. I can’t hitch a ride with a baby in tow, especially not in freezing weather. A cab is probably the fastest way to get out of here. Easy to track, especially with so few people around, so I won’t be able to rest.
Maybe I’ll catch a bus to Anchorage. And from there, who knows?
“I’ve got to pack,” I say, taking one more fortifying glance at the dark curls I love. “Can you watch her for a few minutes? I’ll be back in under an hour to get her.”
