I keep my eye on the exit as I shift through racks of clothing. My fingers linger on price tags before I move onto the next item.
The same woman who greeted me decides to make her presence known. “Hi,” she says sweetly as I comb through the rack. “Can I help you?”
Maybe she can.
She’s about my age, a year or two younger. Pink highlights with icy blonde hair. A killer jawline and the sickest tats. I mentally cross my fingers that she’s a girls girl. “I need your help.”
She catches on quickly, dropping the sales assistant persona and ready to defend my honor. “What’s going on? Need me to call someone for you?”
I lower my voice and appear a tad more skittish. “He keeps following me and I don’t know what to do.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time a perverted man harasses a woman and sadly won’t be the last,” she says with utter disdain. “Need me to call security?”
Rico might have security on his damn payroll. “No. I think if I wait him out I’ll be able to leave. I’m just a bit startled is all.”
“Well,” she says as she begins to walk backwards, “if you change your mind let me know. My name’s Kendra, by the way.”
“Imogen. And thank you.” She nods her head and returns back to work. As the time passes she checks on me. Her kindness makes me feel horrible for dragging her into my mess.
The clock on the wall has shown thirty minutes has passed. It should have been enough time to send them on a mad goose chase.
Wanting to thank her for helping me I go to say my goodbye while she’s at the register. “I think I’m going to take my chances now,” I tell her.
She quirks a concerned pierced brow. “You sure?”
I nod my head. “Yes, but thank you again for helping me out.”
“Anytime,” she replies with a warm smile. “Oh,” she says before I leave. “Here, this might help.” She hands me over a hat and a hair tie.
I smile graciously, pile up my hair in a low bun and slip the hat on.
It’s now or never.
Taking a deep breath I then set foot to continue my escape. While the disguise helps I still feel like an anomaly. I’ll be able to breathe easier once I get the hell out of this city. No, when I get the fuck out of this state. I’m not naive enough to believe I’ll ever be safe, but as long as I’m far away from here I’ll be as close to safe as I can be.
I blend in with the crowd. Keeping pace to not draw any suspicion.
Finally, I arrive at floor level. And I taste it again. The sweet promise of escape. Except now, now there’s a bitterness to it.
Don’t be ridiculous, Imogen. Rid yourself of these inane notions and don’t think of him.
Determined more than ever I start to squeeze my way past the prongs of people with an urgency. I don’t even care how rude I am as I check shoulders and trample on feet.
The exit doors are within sight. I’m so close and yet so far.
Hope blooms within me. I give a silent prayer that it doesn’t wither and die.
But the prayer is all it is. A prayer. God doesn't answer it.
Instead an arm I’ve become achingly familiar with strikes out like a viper and snatches me by the waist. It brings me to him. The haunting scent of amber. A comforting strong firm chest. His hand encasing my throat with possessiveness. An arm of steel banding around my torso keeps me flush against him.
I can’t fight him even if I want to.
His lips graze my ear as he says, “Did you really think you would get far?”
All the blood rushes to my cheeks. “Maybe,” I breathe.
“I’ll admit, gazella, you surprised me.”
