Safety
“Silencio,” a voice grated in my ear.
I didn’t know Spanish, but I grew up in Texas. It’s hard not to know some words. I knew he was telling me to be quiet. He wasn’t the first person to make that mistake with me—to assume that I spoke the language of a Mexican based on my olive skin and my proximity to the country of my ancestor’s origin.
“Voy a dejarlo ir ahora. No grites o el asesino te escuche,” he whispered.
And though the meaning of his words were lost on me, the tickle of his breath on my ear and the tingle that followed its path rushed through me. The weight of his arm and the feel of his hard body pressed against my back calmed me a bit. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before, and the sensation stunned me.
His muscles relaxed. “No voy a lastimarte. Estoy dejando ir ahora.”
I shook my head, not sure if I was trying to tell him I still didn’t understand him, or if I was trying to dislodge his hand. Both urges were forefront in my thoughts. The other urge that reigned was to hurt this fucker for having his hands on me in the first place. He was definitely going to kill me, but I wasn’t going down without a fight. I’d been fighting my whole life to survive.
He released me and stepped back. I didn’t scream. There wasn’t anything to hear it if I did, and it would be a waste of precious time. I barely registered the widening blue eyes because in a blink I spun, throwing my weight into it when I flung my giant purse at his head. It hit him with a heavy thud, and he stumbled back, trying to regain his balance. I stopped thinking and turned on my heel, running. His heavy footfalls chased me.
His arm came around me again like a vise. He pulled me back and halted our forward momentum. I grunted, and his hand was back over my mouth. He grunted as my elbow flew back into his gut.
“You don’t speak Spanish, do you?” he asked in a murmur.
My eyes bulged at his stilted European accent. It was obvious in the way his voice rolled over the P sounds almost like it had its own syllable, but the rest of his words came out in a staccato rhythm. It was like a cross between Russian and German accents I’d heard in movies before.
I shook my head as much as I could in his grip.
His lips grazed my ear as he spoke quietly. “You do speak English?”
I whimpered as fear flooded my system but nodded in answer.
His arms tightened before they relaxed a bit. “I will not hurt you, but you need to keep quiet. There is a man out here. The one who killed that man. Can you be quiet before you get us both killed?”
I hesitated because I didn’t believe him but gave a nod anyway.
He spoke in hushed tones. “I think he heard you sing but did not know where you came from because your voice echoes through the trees. He went that way.”
He used the hand from my mouth to point. Using the distraction, I bucked hard and fell away from his grip. I stumbled and turned to face him. His sandy-brown hair was cropped close to his head, not the usual mullet or short waves or long stringy hair that I was used to seeing on most guys. And his eyes. His eyes were a clear blue, like sea glass. He was not much taller than me, but I could see the hint of defined muscles underneath his clothes.
The corner of his mouth tipped slightly like I’d spoken my assessment out loud. I frowned at him. I didn’t run. There was no use; he’d only catch me again. And he didn’t seem interested in killing me at the moment, so I waited.
“I will not hurt you. You come with me? I will show you.”
He walked past me, motioning with his hand to follow him. I stood still. My mind warred with the intelligence of following a possible killer through the woods. He realized I hadn’t moved and turned back to face me. Our eyes locked across the distance. I could hear the whirring of my Walkman as it still played, but as I looked down at it, I realized that I’d lost the earphones in the struggle.
I sighed as I hit the Stop button and unclipped it from my pocket, then stuffed it into my purse. When I looked up, he was gone. Fear raced through my veins like wildfire. My heart kicked into overdrive as I spun in a circle. Expecting an attack, I brought my hands up in front of me. But when I didn’t see or hear him, I lowered them. I didn’t call after him. That would just be stupid. If he was the killer and left me, then good riddance. If he wasn’t and a killer was out there as he had suggested, calling him over would be even worse.
The sun had set but still lit the sky in shades of pink, orange, and purple. I could see, for now, but I couldn’t follow it back to the car. Plus, I didn’t know how far off track I was after that encounter. I ran in the first direction my feet would take me, without thought. I pulled my compass out and moved quickly in the direction the car should be. Even if I was off track, I should be able to find the road. And I should be able to see my car.
Should. Fuck this shit.
This day had started out amazing; now I was traipsing around with a killer and a crazy man. And perhaps they were one and the same.
As soon as the road came into view, I pocketed the compass. Just as I was about to breach the tree line, a hand landed on my arm. I gave a startled yelp, and the other hand clapped over my mouth. Then his face was in front of me, striking blue eyes imploring me. Releasing my arm, he raised a single finger to his lips. Quiet, his eyes said.
He grabbed my hand and started leading me down the road, just inside the trees. He stepped carefully, making no noise, so I tried to do the same. I still didn’t believe his story, but what harm could come from going along that would be cured by running? He would catch me; I knew that well enough.
We walked about fifty feet before he turned to me and pointed at his eyes with two fingers and then pointed toward the road with the same fingers. I followed the direction of his gaze, and my heart stopped. A man was walking around my car, opening the door. He wore a green camouflage sweatshirt and jeans with a baseball cap pulled low over his brow. Despite the hat, I could see that he was bald underneath, and what I could see of his face were hard frown lines burrowed deep in his skin.
A cold shiver ran down my spine. He was right. There was another person out here. But I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that one was the killer and the other was not. They could be working together. I didn’t know what this man’s motivations were for helping me.
The man next to me released my hand and made hand motions indicating he and I should walk the way we had come, down the road away from my car. His eyes begged me to follow under raised brows.
Shit. I couldn’t make my mind up. I bit my lip as my brows furrowed, and I wrung my hands. I ran the scenarios through my mind, and in every one I came up dead. But maybe I could give him a chance. If he was telling the truth, then it was my only way out.
Reluctantly, I nodded. He grabbed my hand, and we were moving again, at a much quicker pace. Hearing the door to my car slam shut behind us had us full-on running.
It’s a horrifying thing to put your life in the hands of a stranger. I don’t know how long we ran, but as we approached a clearing where a small farmhouse sat, the sky was an inky purple bruise.
“We should go inside in case he followed us,” he said.
I halted, the sound of his voice snapping me out of the blind panic that had fueled my run. I was breathing hard and gasping for air. I was not in any shape to run anywhere, much less run through the wood at dusk from certain death. Or toward it.
Sharp pain in my shin made me hiss, and I suddenly remembered the cactus. I bent down giving myself a moment to think this through, looking at my leg which much resembled Pinhead from the Hellraiser movie. My hands hovered over it as I sucked in a breath, trying to decide which to pull first. I wasn’t one of those bimbos in the horror movies that stupidly trusted the stranger and walked into his house without a thought.
Gentle, long, lean fingers wrapped around my wrist, stopping me. “I have a first aid kit in the house. Let me take care of you.”
His voice did strange things to my stomach, causing it to somersault inside my body. My lips parted, and I nodded. He pulled me to standing by the wrist he held. We started walking toward the house. Well, I was more or less limping now that the adrenaline and shock had worn off. But whether I was headed toward safety or certain torturous doom… I would find out soon enough.
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