The bright sunshine hanging above my head in the clear blue sky mocks me as I make my way to the call center. Perfect days like this one, especially with winter so near, are rare, something to treasure. They aren’t meant to be sullied with fear and desperation.

Yet I can’t enjoy it.

For what feels like the five billionth time since leaving the house, I hit the refresh button and watch as PayPal once again reloads. The icy layer surrounding my heart drops a few more degrees as once again, the balance doesn’t change.

“Shit,” I swear under my breath as I turn to head down the alley that takes half a block of my walk to work. “What’s the holdup?”

This morning, after Jason was called away to his meeting and while Kelsey got ready for school, grumbling the entire time about how Jason, who was apparently her new most favorite person in the world, left without helping her get ready, I put the last touches on the web development project and submitted it.

A few minutes ago, the client sent me an email, raving about how much they’d loved the work I’d done and looked forward to working with me again. Which is nice. Jerry never thinks to compliment me on the work I do for the call center, so it feels good to be told that my professional skills made someone happy, but right now compliments and warm feelings of pride aren’t my concern.

Accumulating a large sum of money in a very short period of time is. And so far, the payment for the freelance job hasn’t been deposited into my PayPal account. Each minute that passes that I don’t have it raises my anxiety level. If the money doesn’t appear soon, I’m going to have a freakin’ heart attack.

The stupid thing is that, even if the money does make it to my account and I’ve cashed my paycheck I’ll get from the call center tomorrow, thanks to the new hike in my interest rate, I still won’t have enough to cover the new amount Abe says I have to pay him.

But at least I have a plan. When I get into work, I’m going to corner Jerry and see if there’s any computer work I can do for the company. If not, I’ll sweettalk him into an advance on next week’s pay. I’ve done it before, and even though it means a bit of self-loathing afterwards, it still beats having to throw myself at Abe’s feet.

And, if all else fails, I’ll beg Jason for some money and pray Abe doesn’t look too closely at where it came from. And, just in case Abe does, I’ll convince Jason to take Kelsey and Adele out of the country, getting them somewhere safe, while I convince Abe that Jason is nothing more than a very casual friend and not someone who can be squeezed for money.

I refuse to think of all the different ways each aspect of my plan can blow up in my face.

I reach the end of the alley, stepping out of the shadows cast by the two big, nondescript buildings and onto a sunny sidewalk, and a large, navy blue van screeches to a halt in front of me.

Startled, I leap backwards as the large door on the side rolls open. Two massive men wearing large sunglasses and winter coats with upturned collars that hide most of their faces jump out.

The words Oh, shit flash through my mind and I spin on my heel, gathering all my strength to sprint the way I’d just came.

On the far side of the alley, I see people walking, laughing, and talking. If I can just reach them, I’ll be safe. The sheer number of people will make it impossible for these jack holes to come anywhere near me.

I make two running steps into the alleyway before a strong hand catches hold of my right wrist and clamps down on it. They jerk hard, pulling me right off my feet. My ass slams down and onto the dirty, damp sidewalk, connecting so hard with the concrete that the impact snaps my teeth together.

Two men, both dressed in dark clothes and wearing equally tinted sunglasses, converge around me.

I draw a deep breath, preparing to scream, to do whatever it takes to attract the attention of someone, anyone, at the far end of the alley, but a huge hand clamps down on my mouth, silencing me. Someone jerks on my arm, pulling it away from my body.

I see a hypodermic needle in someone’s hand and fight, jerking, bucking, and kicking for all I’m worth, but it doesn’t do any good. The goons merely force me backwards, pinning me to the sidewalk so they can steady my arm. A heartbeat later, I feel a sharp prick and the contents are released into my bloodstream.

As they bundle me into the van, I fight to keep my eyes open, to fight whatever drug they’ve pumped into me, but it’s no good.

My last thought before losing consciousness is that I should have told Jason the truth. He might not be able to save me, but at least he would have been able to get Kelsey somewhere safe.

If only I’d told him.