Chapter
One
DON’T. BITE. THAT.
Someday, I was going to be the one to sit there scrolling while some other loser did all the work. I sighed. No, I wasn’t. I didn’t have much, but I had a good work ethic. Lot of good it did me. Here I was closing out for the night at the diner when it was supposed to be Kristi’s night. But she didn’t knowhow. Pout. Whine. Excuses. I knew she didn’t know how because she usually worked mornings and never opened. What she was doing here tonight, I didn’t know, but I was fine with showing her what to do like the nice guy I am.
But what was I supposed to do when all she did was sit there screwing around on her phone and ignoring me? Yell at her? Throw the trash at her? Nope. Because as much as I was trying to be good person, to take pride in my work, and do my best in all things, I was also fucking tired.
“I’m out,” Kristi announced before practically sprinting out the front door. I literally didn’t have time to do more than open my mouth, and she was gone.
“Odd,” I said to myself, “despite the time, it doesn’t look like the diner is properly closed down for the night. I wonder why the only employee who’s supposed to be here no longer is.”
The trash bag in my hand didn’t reply.
I headed through the kitchen to grab the other bag. I still had four hours to work at the bar down the road to make sure I could afford rentandfood this month. Eight hours would be better, but they hadn’t been willing to give me that many this time. Three jobs and I was still struggling.
Was America great yet? Fuckers.
Out the back door with two huge bags of trash and my arms trembling, I marched over to the dumpster. I dropped the bags with a groan. Twenty-four but I felt like eighty sometimes. My back ached. Like, seriously? I honestly didn’t want to throw the bags into the dumpster because it was so much effort.
But I would do it anyway.
Opening the squealing side panel on the huge dumpster had me cringing from the ear-piercing noise. A second later, though, I flinched back and nearly screamed as a blur of fur dashed out of the darkness inside the dumpster and flew past me. My heart was about to bust out of my chest, and I couldn’t quite catch my breath as I flopped back against the metal. A raccoon. Little bastard had the audacity to look over its shoulder as it ran away likeIwas the problem.
That burst of adrenaline helped me heave the trash into the dumpster, though. Goddamn, I was all twitchy now! Cringing all over again at the noise, I closed the panel and took a moment to shake my hands out and take a deep— Oh, nope, we’re not taking deep breaths beside this rotting corpse of a trash pile. Shallow breaths.
I turned around and gasped, adrenaline spiking yet again because there was a man in all-black tactical gear standing there.
“Who the fuck are you supposed to be?” I snapped, balling my fists. “I’m a citizen, you piece of shit, and don’t you dare demand proof.”
Well, that answered that question. My first encounter with an ICE agent and I got uncharacteristically aggressive andconfrontational. Cool. What was it that got pepper spray off you? Milk?
“Wiley William Winslow?” the goon asked.
Okay, that was unexpected. “Uh. Yeah?”
He lunged at me, grabbing my upper arms and mashing them against my sides. I gasped and squirmed, not sure what to do—I’d never been in a fight before—and then another gestapo loser ran up. That one grabbed my hair and yanked my head sideways. I yelled for help as something bit into my neck muscles. Something like a really fucking big needle.
The world rocked sideways like we’d somehow gotten on a boat in a storm. Weeble wobble and pitching to the side, I landed face down on a metal floor. Floor? All I could see were black boots. I pulled back, afraid someone was about to kick me. But no, all the boots stayed still.
Whatever they’d injected into me had me feeling…drunk? Sort of. My mind was clear, I knew what was happening and that I was in a commercial-type van, but wow was my body not cooperating. I could see the back doors of this van and wanted to get to them and escape, except my right arm didn’t want to participate and my left couldn’t find the floor. What the hell? Right and left legs were no longer attached to my body—maybe?—because I couldn’t make them crawl. I was moving enough to notice, though, because someone saw fit to grab the waist of my jeans and pull me back.
I rested, cheek pressed to the cool floor. I really should do something. This was bad. I hadn’t heard of ICE abducting people with drugs, but that didn’t mean I was the first. I’d also thought the fuckers worked normal business hours once, too, and that hadn’t been true. Maybe they’d gotten tired of their abductees fighting back.
“You’re all losers,” I said but it was possible it came out, “Yeralossas.” So my mouth wasn’t working any better than the rest of me. Great.
The van went over a bump, and I bounced on the floor, hitting my face. I tried to sit up but only managed a kind of slow sea lion undulation thingy. The grabby hand was back again to pull me down.
I wasn’t getting away any time soon.
We came to a stop, and my face squeaked across the metal floor as I slid backward. I hollered in surprise when someone pulled me out of the side door. Then—yerp—he threw me right over his shoulder like I weighed fuck all. Something square and pokey was digging into my stomach. I had to get off of it or I was gonna puke.
The dude carrying me punched my ass. “Knock it off, asshole.”
Again, my head was all for kicking his ass even though he was a big fucker, but my body was like, nah.
And then we were going into a place so bright, I immediately thought it had to be that light we’re supposed to go into when we die. But, no, there was a floor because their boots were squeaking on it. I couldn’t keep both eyes open at the same time or as more than a tight squint, but I could hear fine.
