“Damn, dat ol’ man of yours must got it goin’ on.” He licks his lip and moans an obscene noise. “When I first looked you up, thought you’d be some ol’ biddy. Here you are all young and tight,” he murmurs, more to himself than me. “Lucky old bastard.”
Wait. What?
He’s not some wacky fan of my makeup tutorials.
He’s here because of Grayson?
I’m not sure which is worse.
“What…do…you…want?” I gasp each word, then cough. Sweet air finally fills my lungs.
“I need you to deliver a message.”
Of course you do.
“Ol’ G’s pissed off the wrong crowd. He don’t get to skip out of prison carefree. He’s got obligations.”
He grips my chin with iron fingers and jerks my head up, banging my head into the roof of the car.
My vision swims again.
“You listening, Serena?” He’s right in my face. Foul breath bathing me in his stink.
An unintelligible noise passes my lips. My head hurts so bad, I couldn’t answer even if I wanted to.
“Tell Grinder to fall in line, or shit’s gonna be ugly next time. You feelin’ me?”
I groan and try to nod, but his grip’s too strong.
“Big Chief don’t like to be ignored.” His hand slips from my chin to my neck, gripping in a tight hold. “You got all that?”
My eyes bulge as I struggle to breathe.
He squeezes harder. “I been to that dank little brownstone you live in.” He slaps my cheek lightly and flicks his gaze over my shoulder. “Know where you work. Your car. You gettin’ the picture?”
He releases me. I double over, coughing and gasping.
“I got it,” I whisper, clutching my knees and staring at the ground.
“Good.”
Feeling too vulnerable bent over, I struggle to stand and keep my feet under me. “Who are you?”
“Don’t matter. He’ll know who the message is from.”
“Serena?” a female voice echoes over the parking lot.
My attacker’s head snaps up. His gaze shoots to somewhere over my shoulder, then to my face.
“Serena!” Trish’s voice has never sounded more angelic. “What’s going on? Get away from her!”
Gangster leans in one more time. “Don’t forget.”
I nod quickly.
“I’ll catch you later, Sparkles,” he sneers.
It’s been a pleasure, asshole.
Unable to hold myself up another second, I slump against the side of my car and slide to the ground, landing on the hard, wet asphalt with a jarring thump.
The guy dashes for the line of trees separating our parking lot from Empire Med’s complex and disappears into the darkness.
“Serena?” Trish’s sneakers squeak over the wet ground. She squats next to me and touches my shoulder. “Are you okay? Who was that?”
I cough and shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“Oh my God.” She yanks out her phone and quickly makes a call.
“No,” I groan, weakly. “No cops.”
“Serena, I have to. Do you know that man?”
I shake my head.
Pain stabs through my skull.
“You shouldn’t walk out alone,” she scolds. “911, yes! One of my employees was just attacked in our parking lot.”
“No. Don’t need ’em.” I slap at the phone in her hand. She stands and paces a few steps away to finish the call.
Shit. I can’t tell the cops anything that will get Grayson in trouble. My head’s so fuzzy, I’m afraid I’ll say the wrong thing.
Mugger. Say the guy tried to rob me. Keep it simple.
I close my eyes and rest against the car. Mugger. Rob me. Coffee shop.
No. No coffee shop. Mugger.
“Serena?” Trish touches my arm. “Honey, are you okay?”
“I’m here,” I mumble.
“Who can I call for you?”
I need Grayson.
“My phone’s in my pocket.” I roll to the side, so she can reach in for it. She pushes it into my hands a few seconds later.
Blinking, I try to focus on the screen in front of me and press the entry for Grayson.
“Hey, buttercup.” His warm, rich rumble washes over me.
I burst into tears.
“Serena, what’s wrong?”
“I need you, Grayson,” I sob.
“Where are you?”
“At work.”
Sirens pierce the air.
“Baby, what happened?” he shouts into the phone.
“This guy. Attacked me. In the parking lot.”
“What guy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Yes.”
“There’s the police and the ambulance!” Trish jumps up and waves her arms in the air.
“Serena, I’m all the way in Johnsonville. Gonna take me at least an hour to get to you.”
“No, don’t come. The cops are here,” I whisper.
“It’s okay. I’m gonna ask someone from the club to meet you. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Miss, are you okay?” someone barks above me.
The phone falls from my hand, clattering faceup on the ground. I glance at the paramedic and weakly shake my head. Trish squats down and scoops up my phone, checking the screen quickly before turning it off.
Our eyes meet.
Oh, shit.
There’s no time to say anything. Paramedics rush over to check me out.
When I refuse to go to the hospital, Trish has them take me inside the office to tend to my injuries.
Fear hits me from ten different angles.