Therefore, I’d essentially been reduced to change in a bowl for a while.
And seventy dollars was a couple tanks of gas.
“Perfect,” I said.
“7 Eleven,” she said.
“An hour,” I replied.
“You and me,” she whispered.
“Coffee drinks and Seattle,” I whispered back.
We’d dreamed, Tia and I. We’d dreamed in whispers at night while in our twin beds in our foster carer’s home.
We hadn’t dreamed big. But we’d dreamed.
None of those dreams were about coffee drinks and Seattle.
But, for now, that would do.
I heard her take in a shaky breath.
Then I heard her say a shaky, “Yes.”
“See you soon, honey.”
“’Bye, babe.”
I hit the button for off, and you couldn’t say I wasn’t scared. I was scared. Definitely scared. And I still didn’t like the feeling.
But that despair in my belly shifted again.
It didn’t evaporate, but it shifted and there was a tiny little niggle of hope.
I hadn’t felt that in a long time either.
I’d have to send Buck a postcard from the road and thank him for that too.
I put the phone on its base, walked to the door, did the spy thing just like Mrs. Jimenez did, and then rushed one door over to my apartment.
I turned the knob, walked in and saw Mrs. Jimenez tied to my crappy chair, duct tape over her mouth.
Then I saw nothing more because a fist connected with my face so hard, it knocked me right to the floor.
Or at least I assumed it did.
I didn’t know.
Because before I hit the floor, I was knocked right out.
4
Venom
They slowed the car, but didn’t stop, when he reached across me, threw open the door and shoved me out.
I hit the pavement on a roll and the pain made me miss just having a hangover.
I stopped rolling when I hit the curb, and I settled, breathing heavy, waiting, automatically categorizing what hurt the most.
Right now, it was my hip, which was what hit the pavement.
And my hip hurt bad.
I heard running feet. Fast, heavy footfalls. Whoever was running was wearing something like boots.
I opened my eyes and pushed up on a hand.
I might need to flee. I didn’t know how I’d do that. I’d lost both shoes and there were a variety of places on my body that were burning and there were a variety of other places on my body that were stinging.
But if I had to run, I would.
I shoved up farther to sitting and saw jeans-clad legs in front of me, feet in black motorcycle boots. I looked up to see Driver, the young biker bartender, standing over me.
“Jesus, shit,” he muttered, his eyes locked to my face.
I could just imagine what it looked like.
That said, I didn’t want to imagine what it looked like.
But I could.
He crouched down beside me at the same time he pulled a phone out of his back pocket.
I scooted away from him.
“You’re okay, darlin’,” he muttered as he scooted in his hunker right along with me.
I looked up to the apartments, whispering, “My neighbor, Mrs. Jimenez.”
“She’s good,” he said, and I saw he had the phone to his ear. When he spoke next, he spoke into it. “Buck, Driver. She’s home, brother, but beat to shit. You want me to take her to Lefty?” He paused as my heart skidded on the word “Buck” and then he went on, “Right. I’m on it.”
He touched his phone and shoved it back in his pocket.
“You think you could hold on to me on the back of my bike?”
“Mrs. Jimenez,” I repeated.
“We found her in your apartment, babe. She told us what went down. Buck called her boy who came to get her. They tied her up but didn’t hurt her. She’s shaken up, but like I said, she’s good. Now, do you think you can hold on to me on the back of my bike?”
I closed my eyes.
Mrs. Jimenez.
On this thought, visions of her tied to a chair with duct tape on her mouth flooded my head so I opened my eyes again.
“I need to go get cleaned up,” I told him, trying to push up to my feet. His hands went to my armpits and he straightened, hauling me carefully up with him.
Fire shot through my ribcage and I winced.
“Fuck,” he muttered, releasing my armpits, but both his hands slid lightly to my waist.
“I need to go get cleaned up,” I repeated.
“Girl, you need to see a doctor.”
I shook my head, and that hurt too, so I stopped doing it.
“I don’t have any insurance.”
“That’s okay, Aces does.”
I blinked up at him.
That hurt too.
“Aces does?” I asked.
“Babe,” he said impatiently. “Can you hold on to me on the back of my bike?”
“I—”
“You can,” he decided for me, grabbed my hand and pulled me to his bike.
That hurt too.
* * *
The door to the exam room opened and Driver walked in.
I focused on him.
“Lefty” I found was actually Dr. Lefkowitz and he wasn’t a lefty.