I was feeling pretty good about life, especially the way things were developing with Drew. We’d both learned a valuable lesson in the last couple weeks. Like Sadie had mentioned, Devon was a good guy. I enjoyed his company, and under other circumstances I wouldn’t have minded getting to know him better. My feelings were wrapped up in a certain pastor, though, and it would be wrong to lead Devon on. He took the news with a shrug of his shoulders and wished me well.
“You let this guy you’re seeing know he’s one lucky fellow,” Devon told me when I spoke to him.
I’d never thought of myself as a catch, certainly not with my personal history. His words helped to remind me that I’d come a long way from the girl who hung out with gang members and flirted with drugs. Prison changed me and Hope Center showed me the way to a better life. The center was well named. I’d left hopeful that the positive changes I’d made would stick.
Just before Valentine’s Day, I got off the bus and headed toward the café. It was still dark this early in the morning and I kept a cautious eye out walking to the café, aware of my surroundings. It’d been two weeks since I’d heard about the computer glitch that had released felons into the general public. The news had been full of details. Several had been apprehended, but an equal number were still on the loose. The identities of those who remained at large were published in the paper, and that was where I saw Shooter’s name.
Perhaps I was foolish not to worry about his release, but I no longer lived in the same neighborhood or associated with the people I once had. It’d been nearly five years since I’d last seen him. My prayer was that he’d forgotten about me. While I wanted to believe I was safe, I wasn’t completely convinced Shooter wouldn’t come looking for me.
I looked both ways when I stepped off the bus. If Shooter found me, this is when I would be most vulnerable. The street was quiet and silent as I started toward The Corner Café. As I approached, I saw Richard and Chuck against the side of the building, still asleep.
I could see inside the café that Sadie and Frankie were busy getting everything in order before opening.
“Coffee’s ready,” Sadie told me as I came in from the cold. She knew I’d be taking coffee to Richard and Chuck.
I poured them each a cup and added sugar and cream. Both Navy veterans liked their coffee sweet, so I added extra sugar.
When I returned with the two cups, both men were awake and waiting for me.
“How’d you sleep?” I asked. I didn’t know how it was that they managed to get any rest, leaning against the side of the building. They claimed it was as good as any bed, but I suspected they were exaggerating, not wanting me to make a fuss. I’d grown close to these two, especially Richard. More than once I’d suggested they go to a shelter, but neither seemed interested. I never understood that and didn’t ask.
“You’re an angel,” Richard said, gratefully accepting the coffee.
A shadowy figure stepped out from the dark. “You got that all wrong, old man.”
A chill went up my spine. I’d recognize Shooter’s voice anywhere. He stepped purposely toward me, his look menacing. He was thinner than I remembered and had a large snake tattoo that wrapped around his neck.
I froze and swallowed hard.
“Cat got your tongue, Shay?” he growled. His eyes were dark and cold. The man was soulless.
“You leave her be,” Richard insisted.
“Shut up, old man, before I take out whatever teeth you’ve got left.”
Not willing to risk physical harm, Chuck scrambled out of sight. Richard, however, stood his ground, refusing to leave me.
“It’s all right, Richard. Go,” I urged. The last thing I wanted was for Shooter to hurt my friend.
“You heard her. Get lost,” Shooter said and shoved the older man aside. “I need to talk to my woman.”
“It’s been five years, Shooter. I’m not your woman any longer.”
He slapped me hard across the face and I tasted blood. “You’re my woman until I say you’re not.”
Holding my hand against my cheek, I asked, “How’d you find me?” Why knowing that was important, I couldn’t guess.
“You think you can hide from me?”
“I tried,” I whispered, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the sidewalk. Richard sent me a sympathetic look, but no way could he help me.
Shooter got in Richard’s face and screamed as he shoved him aside, “Leave.”
“No.”
“Richard, please.”
Shooter slapped me again and I stumbled backward, seeing stars.
“I’ll keep hitting her until you disappear.”
“I’m not leaving her,” Richard insisted, running into Shooter and hitting him with his shoulder.
The impact didn’t budge Shooter.
“I don’t care what you do to me, Shooter, just leave him alone.”
“You care about this old man?” he asked me, grabbing hold of Richard by the scruff of his coat, lifting him off his feet to the point where he was choking. Hot coffee sloshed out of his to-go cup onto the sidewalk. Richard struggled to break free, but it did no good. He was too old and feeble to put up much resistance.
“Okay, okay,” I cried. “What do you want from me?”
“Where’s Caden?” Shooter demanded.
“I don’t know,” I said, growing frantic. “I swear.”
“Don’t feed me a crock of sh—”
“I don’t know,” I shouted again, enunciating each word. “I haven’t seen my brother in years.”
“I don’t believe you. That sniveling piece of crap clung to you like you were his mommy. You know where he is, so tell me, otherwise…” He left the threat hanging there.
“I swear, I don’t know.”
Shooter released a short, sick laugh. “You always did have a soft spot for your baby brother. You think I don’t know that you’re protecting him?”
“I’m not, I swear it.”
As best I could, I edged away from Shooter, taking tiny steps in retreat. I prayed that Sadie and Frankie would wonder what was taking me so long and come to investigate. This side of the café was dark and without windows. My chances of escaping were nil. Leaving Richard wasn’t an option.
Shooter released Richard, who staggered and fell against the side of the building. With his arm free, Shooter’s fist shot out and hit the side of my face with a punch that sent me flying backward. “This is the only thing you’re good for. Weak. Spineless. White trash.”
I went down like a brick, seeing stars. As soon as I hit the sidewalk, Shooter kicked me in the ribs. Turning away, I tried to get up on my knees, but his fists kept me down. Grabbing me by the hair, he slammed my forehead against the sidewalk.
Richard screamed. Maybe it was me.
Shooter was going to kill me. Having already received a life sentence, he had nothing to lose.
“Give him up, woman.” The side of my head crashed against the concrete.
“Step away from her now or you’ll regret it.”
I heard someone speak, but the voice seemed to come from a long distance away. I was having trouble staying conscious. It sounded like Frankie, but it couldn’t have been him. He was inside the café in the kitchen, preparing for the breakfast crowd.
A siren sounded in the distance. I blinked and saw that Frankie held a baseball bat in his hand. Chuck stood next to him with what looked like a mop. I wanted to laugh that he thought he could defend me against Shooter with that. I loved him for trying, though.
I started to sit up when Shooter swore and kicked me in my ribs again with his heavy boot. Pain blasted through my side. I gasped and my knees shot up and I cradled my stomach to protect myself. It was then that I felt the darkness chasing after me. I fought it, but it was no use.
I don’t know how long I was out. Probably only a minute or two. When I regained consciousness, Richard was kneeling on the sidewalk next to me with tears in his eyes.
Sadie was on the other side of me, holding my hand.
“Hold on, Shay,” she whispered. “An aid car is on the way.”
I blinked up at my friends, wondering at the worry I saw in their eyes. “I’m…” I tried to tell everyone that I was okay and found that I couldn’t.
“Sorry, Shay…so sorry,” Frankie said. “I didn’t know. I would have come sooner…”
I offered him a weak smile, letting him know I understood.
Everything hurt. My head throbbed like someone had slammed a hammer into my skull. Blood flowed from my head wound into my eyes. I read the fear and concern on their faces and knew I was in much worse shape than I realized. Breathing was difficult and everything blurred as I struggled to remain conscious.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I figured I must have a concussion. Shooter had hit my head hard. Kicked me, too.
Years ago I’d heard it was important to remain conscious after a head injury. Who’d told me that? A teacher? No. Had I signed up for a first-aid class? When was that? Couldn’t remember. Couldn’t keep my eyes open, either, despite every attempt. They closed and I couldn’t make them move.
Voices drifted my way.
Different voices. Not Sadie or Frankie. Unfamiliar voices. One voice sounded like it was from a policeman. I could tell from the questions he asked. Cops always did ask a lot of questions.
Then I was being lifted off the sidewalk. A floating sensation came over me. I didn’t remember that I could fly. Who knew? Maybe I was one of the characters in the book Peter Pan. What was that girl’s name? Couldn’t remember that, either. I should read more. Wendy, that was it. Wendy. Nice name.
More voices, strange ones. Their words were slurred and grew loud and then soft. Had they been drinking on the job? Someone needed to report them. I tried to lift my hand, but it wouldn’t move. Straining I tried again, but to no avail.
“Shay, we’re taking you to the hospital now,” the man with the slurred voice told me.
If I couldn’t move my hand, I should be able to open my eyes. Hospitals were expensive and I really couldn’t afford this.
Shooter should pay. That was it. I’d make him pay.
No. I never, ever wanted to see him again. Him or Caden. My brother. If Shooter found my brother, he’d be killed for sure. I didn’t want Caden dead.
Fear and adrenaline shot through me as I remembered the way Shooter had looked at me. He’d wanted Caden.
All at once Shooter was there again. Evil radiated from him.
I tried to scream but nothing came out. He looked straight through me and reached out and grabbed hold of my throat with both hands, strangling me.
Panic attacked every nerve as I struggled to escape. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move, and no one was helping me. Why weren’t the men who were drinking trying to stop Shooter before he killed me?
“She’s convulsing.”
Someone, not Shooter, was talking.
I wasn’t convulsing. I was doing everything within my power to escape Shooter. They should get him off me. Couldn’t they see what he was doing?
Why had they let him near me again? Couldn’t they see the damage he’d already done to me?
A piercing sound hurt my ears. A fire siren? I welcomed it because it sent Shooter away and I could relax. Relief washed over me.
My head hurt like no pain I’d ever experienced before. The pain so intense it blinded me.
I tried to open my eyes. I really tried, and couldn’t.
It was impossible to stay awake any longer, and while I wanted to do what I’d learned in first aid, I couldn’t. Although I fought it, I surrendered to the darkness.