I force my legs to bend, and I lower myself onto a bench as though I’m waiting for someone.
Well, Iamwaiting for someone, but my easy, nonthreatening movement and, more than likely, the facial-feature-and-hair-hiding hat cause the guard to skim right past me in his vigilant defense of the exterior door.
I wait another minute for Malcolm. Two minutes, three…
He likely also had to avoid a staff member or two by hiding out in rooms. And he’s hurt, I remind myself. That fall outside my grandfather’s room hadn’t done his ribs any favors.
Another minute passes, I know this because there’s a clock on the wall directly across from me and I’ve been tracing the second hand like my life will be over if I so much as blink. I’m staring so hard at it that I don’t notice him until he slides onto the bench next to me.
“Ready to charge a security guard?”
The guard lost, and now we’re outside.
And we’re okay.
We made it.
I turn to smile at Malcolm. I know we still have to put some distance between us and Silver Living, but that seems easy by comparison.
I don’t see either man until Malcolm and I are ripped away from each other. A pale, bony hand clamps over my mouth as an arm hooks tight around my waist and lifts my feet off the ground.
Malcolm is struck from behind, hard, and he goes down, but then another man, wearing black steel-toed boots, heaves him over his shoulder and starts walking toward a windowless van with the engine still running.
I scream, or try to, but the hand covering my mouth muffles the sound, so I bite down until the copper taste of blood fills my mouth.
I hit the pavement with teeth-rattling impact, but I manage to avoid slamming my head this time. Still, my legs are shaky, and I’m scrambling to try to get my feet under me.
All the while, I hear the man swearing. “Stupid little…Bit my hand…”
I scream when he grabs my ankle. I kick out and am rewarded with a grunt, but my attacker doesn’t let go. I claw at the asphalt, desperate to find something to use as a weapon.
With a violent twist, he flips me onto my back, and the air punches out of my lungs as he lands a vicious kick to my ribs. I gasp, and my eyes stream with tears, blurring my vision.
He bends over me. “Little girls should not”—he kicks me again—“act”—another kick—“like”—I try to curl in on myself as he draws back for yet another kick—“fu—”
I drive my heel into his groin. He comes crashing down in a red-faced heap beside me, so close that only inches separate our faces. He has crystal-clear blue eyes, flooded with hate.
Pushing away, I whimper as I try to sit. I don’t have time to wait for the pain to stop. I have to get up. I have to run. Now.
My body doesn’t want to obey, and I can’t straighten all the way when I stand, but I still move. Not remotely fast, but I move.
Malcolm. I see his unconscious body flung into the back of the van, and the other man—the bounty hunter—turns and sees me. He casts one disgusted look at the man still writhing on the ground and starts after me.
I try to run. I swear I try. I know it’s not enough. I don’t look back, but I hear his footsteps growing closer, closer, and the sound stabs into me.
“No, no,” I whisper, the words mingling with the sob I can’t hold back.
And then there’s bright-white pain splitting myskull.
A sliver of light cuts my eyes as I pry them open, revealing a world that is upside down and swinging slowly from side to side.
The backs of two jean-covered thighs fill my vision, and my side throbs as we—me and the man whose shoulder I’m flung over—continue ascending a narrow staircase. I blink to better clear my vision, but the light is dim and my head screams at me to stop.
A few steps down a creaky hallway, I hear a door wrench open, and I’m lowered and dropped onto a hardwood floor. The impact is so sudden that I cry out.
“Wakey, wakey, little girl.” It’s Blue Eyes. He bends down, and I can feel his sour breath in my face. I try to turn away, but he grabs my chin in a crushing grip and forces me to face him. “I hope you don’t tell the investigator anything when he gets here. Because then I’ll be the one who gets to make you talk.” His fingers force my mouth to open. “First thing I’m gonna do is pull every one of these pretty teeth out. Two hours, maybe less, and you’re mine.”
“Move,” another voice says, and I hear the difference in his steps as Blue Eyes backs away to make room. There’s a subtle metal clang that tells me it’s the bounty hunter. The light is so dim that all I see is his silhouette and the outline of a body over his shoulder.
