"I don't."
"We're asking for your own good. The world is a bad, bad place and unless you're one of the bad guys, you shouldn't be out there alone."
"Grab me again," she said through clenched teeth, ignoring his feigned concern, "and you'll regret it. I'm not a hooker, and I'm not looking to make any money. Okay?"
As both gaped at her, she ripped free. She stalked away from them before she did something stupid. At the station in back, she filled the mother and son's drink order, her hands shaking. Her heartbeat nearly cracked her ribs. You have to calm down. Deep breath in, deep breath out. That's the way. Finally her muscles released their vise-grip on her bones.
She steered clear of the Bird Brothers on her way back to the table, remaining completely out of reach. When the mother realized she'd brought the boy a Coke, she opened her mouth to protest but Danika stopped her with a raised hand—a still-shaking hand, she realized with surprise. Hadn't calmed from Two's touch, then. Another deep breath in, another deep breath out.
"On the house," she whispered. Enrique gave nothing away, not even to his waitresses, and would deduct the dollar ninety-seven from Danika's pay if he heard. "If it's okay that he has it, that is."
The boy's expression lit with happiness. "It's okay, right, Mom? Please, please, please."
The mother gave Danika a grateful smile. "It's okay. Thank you."
"My pleasure. Know what you want to order?" She withdrew the pad and pencil from her apron. Her hand had stopped shaking, but the muscles were so rigid she accidentally snapped the pencil in two. "Oops. Sorry." More carefully, she dug out the spare.
The pair placed their order, and as she wrote she scanned the diner. Another family had just walked in. She gave them only a cursory inspection. Less and less, she jumped when people entered. First few days here, she'd expected Reyes to stalk through the door, throw her over his shoulder and steal into the night with her.
Gilly motioned the family to the only other available booth, her gaze catching Danika's. They shared a tired smile. Danika's felt brittle, her nervous system clearly still raw from Two's touch. You know you can't react like this. You have to be prepared, ready for anything.
"Did you get that?" the woman asked her.
She returned her attention to her customer. "Yes. Two hamburgers, one plain, one with everything, both with fries."
The woman nodded. "Great. Thanks."
"I'll get this turned in. Shouldn't take too long to get it cooked." Danika tore the page from her pad and marched toward Enrique.
Bird One grabbed her this time. "Look. We don't think you're a prostitute. We just want to talk to you. Bad things are headed your way."
Before she could stop it, instinct took over. In her mind, she saw her sister's panicked face the night they'd been snatched from their hotel room and carted to that fortress, prisoners of the monsters. She heard her mother's voice in her head: Your grandmother might be dead. Might have been murdered.
Red clouded her vision and fury returned full force, morphing her from woman to berserker. Attack! Never helpless again! She slammed her free hand into the man's nose. Cartilage broke on contact, and blood poured onto his shirt, his plate. He howled in pain, tenting his hands over his face.
In the wake of that howl, there was a heavy silence. Then someone dropped a cup. Clang, splash. Liquid gurgled over the tiled floor. Someone cursed. All of the sounds boomed like thunder, piercing her mind and jerking her out of the vengeful haze.
Danika's mouth fell open.
Two gasped, his eyes widening. He jumped up, breath sawing in and out. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, bitch?"
"I—I—" A tremor rolled through her entire body. She stood frozen, fighting panic. She'd just brought attention to herself. A lot of it, and none of it good. "I—I told you guys not to touch me."
"You assaulted him!" Looming menacingly, the uninjured man settled his hands atop her shoulders and shoved her backward.
She could have stopped him from pushing her, could have shoved her pencil in his jugular before stumbling away. She didn't. Mortification blended with regret and both tumbled through her, overshadowing any lingering hint of fury. Where's your numbness now?
"You know what?" he said, snarling at her. "You're just like them. 'She might be innocent,' I was told, 'so be careful with her. Be gentle.' I didn't believe it, not for a second, but I obeyed. Shouldn't have. You just proved how despicable you really are. Maybe you're a whore after all— their whore."
You're just like them, he had said. Just like who? "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—I—" There was nothing she could say to make this better. Clearing her throat, she smoothed the wrinkles from her sweater. Blood must have splattered her palm because streaks of crimson appeared everywhere her hands touched. "I'm truly sorry."
"Someone call 9-1-1, for fuck's sake!"
Oh, God . She was going to have to run again, when she'd only just settled in. If this made the papers… Oh, God, she thought again. Her heart once more began slamming against her ribs.
Enrique stomped out of the kitchen, double doors swinging behind him. He was a big man, both tall and overweight, and utterly imposing. His thinning hair fell into his narrowed eyes as he barked, "You, little girl, are fired. And that's the least of your problems. Go to the back and wait 'til the cops get here."
Of course she was fired. And deep down, she knew he was going to stiff her for today's work. "I'll go," she lied, "just as soon as you pay me. You owe me for—"
"You'll march back there now! You're scaring the customers."
Danika's gaze moved through the diner and landed on the mother and son. The woman had one arm locked protectively around the boy while the other pushed away the Coke Danika had given him. Both were staring at her in fear. Me? But I was merely defending myself.
Her eyes moved away, and Gilly came into focus. Concern radiated from the girl's face as she approached, obviously meaning to support Danika. She'd lose her job and today's pay, as well, and Danika couldn't allow that.
"I'll wait for the police at my apartment," she lied.
"No, you won't," Enrique said. "You'll—"
Turning, she marched from the diner, head high, shoulders squared. Thankfully, no one tried to stop her, not even Bird Two. The night was warm, lit with neon signs and crowded. She felt as if she were spotlighted in the glare and everyone she passed was staring at her.
God, what was she going to do?
She quickened her pace, almost running. She had forty dollars in her pocket. Enough for a bus ticket somewhere. Where should she go? Georgia, maybe. The peach state was a good distance away. More importantly, she would pass through Oklahoma. She could search for her grandmother.
The thought had barely registered before something slammed into her back, propelling her into a darkened alley. She hit the pavement with so much force, oxygen whooshed from her lungs. Rocks cut past her thin sweater and T-shirt and into her skin. Her jaw cracked against the concrete. Bright white stars glittered behind her lids.
"Demon bitch!" a man growled at her temple, spittle spraying into her hair. Bird Two. Hadn't let her escape, after all. "Did you really think I'd let you run again? You're ours and, baby, you're going to suffer just like your friends. I'm not allowed to kill them, but you…you'll beg for it."
Instinct once again kicked into gear. Don't scream, just fight. Don't react, just strike. The words had been drilled into her mind and now seemed as much a part of her as her arm or leg. When her assailant grabbed her by the hair, lifting her, she spun of her own accord. Her scalp stung as the hairs ripped free, but that didn't slow her as she jabbed her arm forward to cut off his airway and buy herself enough time to slip free while he gasped for breath. Contact.
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