by Bella King
“I don’t get into cars with strangers,” I said, unable to keep the snarky tone from invading my voice.
“I’m not a stranger. You already know my name,” he grumbled.
“Saint isn’t your name,” I shot back
“Okay, one more snide comment, and I’m going turn you back to the Southside Syndicate, sweetie,” Saint said, then grabbed my arm with an iron grip.
“Can I have my underwear back, at least?” I asked as he dragged me away from the scene of the shooting.
“No,” he replied bluntly, dragging me around the corner to the street.
My injured foot had stopped bleeding, but it stung as it walked beside Saint, his large hand insuring that I didn’t flee from him.
“Could you slow down?” I asked as he jerked me down the road.
“No,” he said again.
“If someone sees you with that gun, they’re going to call the police,” I warned when I noticed he was still holding his gun by his side.
Saint groaned in annoyance but paused to shove the gun into the waistband of his jeans. I took the opportunity to lift my foot up and pull a small shard of glass from my sole. I winced as the glass exited my skin, but I was relieved to finally have it out.
“Come on,” Saint said, tugging me so hard that I nearly fell over.
“Jesus Christ, what’s the hurry?” I complained as he continued to yank me down the road.
“The Southside Syndicate will be back. They don’t like to leave bodies,” Saint replied.
He was probably doing me a favor then, getting me away from the scene of the crime. I was surprised that nobody had heard the shots and come to help, but then again, any sane person would have run far away from the sound of Saint’s gun popping off in the night.
I looked Saint over as he took me down the street to his car. He was the type of man who you wouldn’t want to meet in an ally, but who you’d be delighted to meet in a bar. He was handsome, confident, and there was an edge of something sinister about him. I already knew that, but even if I hadn’t had this encounter with him, I would have been able to tell he was a criminal.
If I hadn’t been running around town trying to find acting gigs, I would have been defending a man like him in court. My parents had wanted so badly for me to finish law school, but I couldn’t. I hated everything about it. It was stuffy, dry, and ultimately way out of line with my expressive nature. Law wasn’t for me. I was a performer at heart.
That was how I ended up on the street, dragged around by a man who called himself Saint. He insisted that I take him to my apartment, but I had other plans. I could trust a thug like him, and he was out of his mind if he thought he could bully me into letting him into my private place of residence.
My parents had taught me not to be a victim. They always said that the only thing a victim gets to do is testify in court, but that doesn’t reverse the crime. Once it’s done, it’s done, and you will remain a victim forever, while the perpetrator will get out of jail eventually.
Don’t be a victim.
Well, that was going to be hard with the way Saint was handling me. He wouldn’t give me a chance to flee, so I would have to make my own chances. I was a fighter at the end of the day.
“Saint, are you going to do something bad to me?” I asked, sounding more innocent than I actually was.
He shrugged. “I’ll do what I have to,” he said. “My car is here.” He pointed to a black car, inconspicuous and considerably nicer than I would have imagined him driving. This was the car of a successful man, not a low-level street thug.
I was an actress, so I used it to my advantage. I should think about acting like this was a movie.
“What would you do to me once we got back to my place?” I asked, trying to force flirtation into my voice. It was difficult when I was in pain.
Saint looked at me, his green eyes almost hidden by his furrowed eyebrows. “What are you suggesting?”
I gazed up at him with wide eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. You took my panties, so I was thinking you had something dirty in mind.”
No luck. Saint rolled his eyes and opened the door to his car, shoving me into the passenger’s seat. I fell in, and Saint quickly locked all the door except for his, circling around the car and getting in beside me.
I scrambled up to a sitting position, keeping my distance from him the best that I could. I examined the door, looking for a way to escape, but the interior handle had been removed from every door except for his. Clearly, he had done this before.
“What’s your address?” Saint demanded, buckling his seatbelt.
“I live off Orangepine Drive,” I lied.
“Ruth, I’m not an idiot,” he said, shoving his key into the ignition and twisting it to start the car.
“I’m telling the truth,” I insisted.
“That’s where the police station is,” Saint said, shaking his head. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
“I’m not,” I said.
“Yes, you are. Tell me where you live,” he demanded.
“I don’t feel comfortable with that,” I said, trying to buy time. I couldn’t escape from his car because of the way he had set it up, but there had to be another way out of this. I couldn’t let him rule over me.
Saint had other plans. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a butterfly knife, whipping it open and pointing it toward me. “I’m not going to ask you again. Give me an address.”
Chapter Four
Saint’s black car rolled down the street toward my apartment, ominously quiet as he let his foot off the gas. “Which building?”
“They all look the same at night,” I said, squinting dramatically through the front windshield.
“I’m assuming you don’t want your pretty throat slit,” Saint said, shaking the knife in his thick fist.
“Fine. It’s unit 13,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning back in my seat.
“Which one is that?” he asked, leaning forward to get a better look at the buildings.
“The next one,” I said, feeling defeated. I was leading this man right to my apartment, and there was little I could do about it. I was totally under his control.
My blonde hair had fallen out from the formerly tight ponytail I had it in during my audition, and a strand of it stuck to my lips. I pulled it off and threw it back over my head. I was a mess, and I smelled like garbage. Would Saint really want to take advantage of a woman who smelled like trash?
“I’m not part of the Southside Syndicate,” I said as he pulled to the curb outside my apartment building.
“I know that,” he replied, putting the car into park. “But I’d like to know who you are.”
“Ruth Bishop,” I announced proudly, straightening my back.
“You already told me that, but since you have no evidence, I’m not going to assume things.”
“You can trust me,” I said, pouting at him.
“Unlikely,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt.
I huffed in frustration as he got out of the car, circling around the hood to the passenger’s side and reaching out to the door. Big mistake. He had left the driver-side door unlocked.
I leaped across the center console, hooking my hand under the door handle and pushing the door open in one swift movement. Saint threw open the door behind me, reaching in to grab me, but he was too slow. I slipped out of the opposite door and made a run for it.
I didn’t know what to expect. I feared he might shoot me, but we were in a better neighborhood now. People would call the police if they heard gunshots here. His best bet would be to chase me.
I looked back as I ran, checking to see if Saint was behind me. I was surprised that he hadn’t followed me, but I didn’t slow down. I disappeared behind one of the apartment buildings, taking a sharp turn and weaving through a few more to throw him off my trail. He wouldn’t find me now.
I stuck my body against the side of one of the buildings as I heard his car st
art up again. He was leaving, but that didn’t mean that I was safe. He could just be patrolling the area, waiting for my return. It would be better for me not to sleep at my apartment tonight, but unfortunately, I had nowhere else to go. I didn’t have a car, and my parents were fast asleep at their house in east Florida.
I caught my breath, listening to the sound of Saint’s car as it disappeared into the distance. Strange. I would have thought he would stick around, but maybe he figured I’d be too much trouble. I had put up a hell of a fight.
I was proud of myself for not falling victim to Saint or the Southside Syndicate, but the battle wasn’t over yet. I still had to get back to my apartment without getting snatched up again. I needed to clean myself up and treat my injured foot, which was starting to ache again.
I peered out into the road after a few minutes of being plastered to the side of the building. There was nobody to be found. I waited in that position long enough for my throbbing foot to push me to go ahead and get home already. I listened to it, limping down a hill of grass into the road, praying that Saint wasn’t posted up somewhere with a gun trained on me.
Every step on the asphalt felt like a gamble as I approached my apartment building. I held my breath for the last few, finally reaching the safety of cover again. I ran up the wooden stairs to my unit on the second floor, and lifted the doormat, revealing a set of barely-hidden keys. I snatched them up, shoving them into the lock and letting myself into my apartment. I was safe.
I looked back out the door into the street one last time before closing the door. I didn’t see any sign that Saint had been here at all. It was as though he had never existed. I shook my head and closed the door, locking the top and bottom bolt to make sure nobody got in.
A movement in the corner of the living room made me jump when I turned on the light. I held my hand to my heart as I realized that it was just my cat, Mrs. May.
“Fuck, you almost killed me, girl,” I said, shaking my head as Mrs. May let out a long meow.
She came to my feet, curiously sniffing at my pungent skin before pulling her head back with her nose turned upward.
“Yeah, I know. I got into a bit of trouble tonight, but I’m alright,” I said, chuckling at her reaction to my dumpster smell.
Mrs. May meowed again.
“I’ll give you a snack after I clean up,” I said.
Another, now longer, meow.
“Alright, Alright. You can have it now,” I said, walking to the small kitchen that was attached to the living room. I took a small can of wet cat food from the cupboard and popped the metal lid, pulling it off before I bent over and dumped the contents into Mrs. May’s bowl.
She ate it up greedily, making obnoxiously loud sounds as she did so. She was such a messy cat, but I loved her for it.
“What a goofball,” I said, smiling down at her.
After a moment of admiring her shiny black coat, I turned and retreated to my bathroom, where I could wash up and prepare for bed. All the adrenaline that had pumped through my body earlier was starting to wear off, and I was growing weary.
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and sighed. I cleaned up nicely, but tonight I looked like I had been through hell. I was always a little insecure about my image, even though I had been told I was quite attractive, but my current state wasn’t helping my ego much. I had been denied an acting position, been chased by thugs, rolled around in a dumpster, and kidnapped by a handsome but violent man who went by the name of Saint. It was a tough night for me.
I removed my green silk dress, watching it crumble to a soft pile at my feet. It moved like water on the fake tile floor. It was a shame I messed it up so much today because I would never be able to afford to replace it myself. It had been a gift from my mother when I started law school. Things had gone downhill quickly after that.
I sat my bare ass down on the closed toilet, lifting my foot to get a better look at the damage. My sole was covered in dried blood and dirt, making it hard to see where the glass had punctured my skin. I reached to the sink and grabbed a crusty washcloth that was hanging over the spotty silver faucet. It kept its shape until I ran it under the water.
I wiped the blood from my foot, scrubbing around the wound until I could clearly make out the damage. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it had been, and I would be able to avoid stitches of any other drastic treatment. A simple wash and bandage would do.
I put the dirty washcloth back over the sink faucet and got up to get into the shower. The tub creaked as I climbed in and turned on the water.
Once I had cleaned myself up, and I smelled like plums and cinnamon, I toweled myself off and poured rubbing alcohol over the soft cut in my foot. It stung a little, but the majority of the pain had gone away since I had stopped running around on it.
I put on a pair of pajama bottoms, skipping the top, and went to the living room to peek out of the broken blinds before bed. Mrs. May was there, already looking at the window. She made a habit of stepping through the brittle blinds often enough to have broken most of the ones close to the windowsill.
She meowed as I stepped up to the window and split the blinds with my fingers, scanning the parking lot and road for Saint. His car wasn’t there. As far as I knew, it was safe for me to go to bed. I wasn’t going to let myself get wrapped up in worry about that man. If he had any sense at all, he would leave me alone now. He had nothing to gain from harassing me.
Normally, I would have kept the bedroom door open so that Mrs. May could come in and out as she pleased, but tonight, I scooped her up and brought her in with me into the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind me. I wasn’t going to take any unnecessary risks.
“Aw, did you do this?” I exclaimed to Mrs. May as I dropped her in my room and looked over the mess on my bed.
The embroidery project that I had been working on for the past week had been ruined, threads pulled from the base of my design until it didn’t even resemble the subject. It was ironic that Mrs. May had ruined a picture of herself that I was almost finished with.
I picked up the mess from the bed and tossed it onto the floor, causing Mrs. May to pounce on it as though it was a toy. It belonged to her now, since I could no longer work with it. I’d have to start a new one tomorrow in my free time.
I enjoyed doing embroidery. It appealed to my need for artistic expression. Acting was fine and all, but I barely ever got any gigs. I filled my free time with embroidery. I had quite a few scenes hanging on my walls, and I liked to give them as gifts to the people I was close with. I’m sure my family was all tired of getting them, but I wasn’t tired of making them, so I wouldn’t stop. I didn’t have the money to buy nice things for them, so I worked with what I had.
I could have finished law school. I would have been a lawyer by now, rolling in dough as my parents set me up for success. I laughed at the thought as I climbed into bed. I wasn’t made for law. I tended to break more laws than I followed.
I lay my wet hair down on my pillow and fell asleep quickly. Tomorrow, I had another audition in the afternoon, and I wanted to get up early to prepare for it. I had nothing else to do that day.
Chapter Five
I peeled my face off my pillow, drool sticking the side of my mouth to the cheap fabric as I raised my head. It was bright in my bedroom, and Mrs. May was walking circles at the foot of my bed, purring her head off in a desperate attempt to wake me up to feed her.
“I’m up, I’m up,” I said, moving my feet under the sheets, so that’s he would get off the bed.
Mrs. May jumped down and waited by the door as I sat up and dangled my feet off the side of the bed. My injured foot throbbed lightly, but it felt better than it had last night. If I hadn’t sustained that injury, I would’ve been tempted to think the whole thing was nothing but a twisted dream.
Even in my dreams, I didn’t think I would have been able to concoct up such a brutal, yet dashing, man like Saint. I could still picture his emerald-green eyes, straight nose, and the ga
sh along his strong chin when I closed my eyes. I could see him so clearly, as though he was stained on the backs of my eyelids.
I rose from my bed and shuffled along the rough carpet to the door, opening it so that Mrs. May could leave. She fled from the room, sliding her paws across the kitchen floor as she raced to her food bowl.
“Damn, girl. I just fed you last night,” I said as I walked slowly to the kitchen.
I didn’t know what time it was, but I didn’t really care. I was never the type of person to pay much attention to time. What was time, anyway? It was a measurement of something we could never get back. I preferred to live in the present, where all my thoughts were.
Except now, the past had a grip on my mind. I kept going back to the jarring events of the previous night. As disturbing as it might have been, it was also the most thrilling thing that had ever happened to me. I had been invigorated by the occurrence, or maybe just by Saint.
I grabbed the five-pound bag of dry cat food from the cabinet under the sink and poured it until it overflowed from Mrs. May’s bowl. “There you go, baby. Don’t ask me for more,” I said, returning the bag to the cabinet as she chowed down on her kibble.
I returned to my room and got dressed, picking out another nice dress for my audition in the afternoon. It was at a venue close to the previous one, but it wasn’t so late in the day that I had to be concerned about getting run down by gangsters again. I knew there would probably be a wait, though, so I planned to bring my embroidery bag and start a new project while I waited. It kept me calm.
Even though it was the middle of the day by the time I was prepared to leave the apartment, I still peeked out of the broken blinds to check for Saint’s black car on the road. It would have been crazy for him to attempt to get me during the day with so many people out, but I didn’t know him well enough to predict his behavior. He could do anything.
My phone ringing in the bedroom caused me to jump.
