Love.
The word brings an image of Saint into my head and I sigh as I think about him, lying there in the grass. I couldn’t help but notice that the bulge I’d seen under his pants so many times before seemed to grow thicker and harder when I was nearby. The thought has my mouth watering with the idea of seeing that thing up close and personal. Dangling in front of me, in front of my mouth.
A shiver traverses my spine as Mrs. Gwan waves, her daughter Minji grinning in my direction.
“Thank you, Amara!” Minji shouts. “See you tomorrow!”
“Bye!” I wave back, and Mrs. Gwan smiles as she turns away, chattering to her daughter about what she’s learned to do on the ice this week.
That’s the last of the children, and I’m left all on my own. I glance around the rink, but there’s nobody else here now. No runners, no families. No Saint with his piercing blue-gray eyes and a smile that makes me melt. I’ll probably never see him again, having brushed him off so completely, but that’s surely for the best.
I head up the path, crossing the road and wandering down the street, heading home. A tall apartment building on my left, behind a private gate, cuts out what remains of the fading sunlight and I shiver, wrapping my arms around my shoulders.
And that’s when they appear.
It happens so suddenly, I don’t have time to think about my reaction. As the door to the van slides open, I scream in shock, but when the first masked man reaches for me I don’t hesitate. My elbow connects with his nose, hard, and he staggers back, dazed, his ski-mask growing dark where his blood is seeping into the wool.
“Grab her fucking arms!”
“No!” I shout, flailing wide and kicking out. There are four of them, including the one that is still cradling his face in his hands, and I know I can’t fight them all, but if I can hold them off long enough someone else just might come to my rescue. “Help! Help! Somebody!”
Fingers clasp over my mouth, turning my screams to mumbles, and I struggle but one of them has me held tight from behind. Tears start to flow down my cheeks, and I stamp with my feet, hoping to get lucky and break someone’s toes.
“Get her legs and get her in the van! She’s just one girl!” This comes from the driver, who’s leaning out of his window, and even under the mask I can’t help but recognize him.
Camilo.
One of my father’s men. I’ve known him a long time, and at one point I even thought we were friends. I was the first person he came out to in the whole family and we bonded over the disgusting way his parents reacted to the idea he was gay. Silly me for caring, huh? Seems I don’t have any friends after all. He’s a distant cousin from the Cuban side of the family, but nowadays he does whatever my father asks without question. If he’s here, it’s on my father’s orders.
I throw him an evil glare, then resume my attempts to make kidnapping me as difficult as possible, but it’s no use. I’m losing the battle. It’s a wonder they haven’t punched me out to subdue me, as is their usual modus operandi, but I guess Camilo would rather do this the easy way.
He’s a fool.
I open my mouth, and the hand clasped over it can’t help but slip between my teeth. I take the opportunity and bite down, and hear the scream from behind me.
“Fucking bitch! You almost bit my—fuck!”
A scream of pain cuts through the middle of his sentence and suddenly I’m freed from his grasp. Turning, everything seems to go into slow motion, and that’s when all hell breaks loose.
Chapter 3 – Saint
I let out a battle cry as pure adrenaline takes over. I’ve never been one for violence, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to fight when it’s necessary. Growing up where I did, fights often broke out over the simplest of things, and you had to be ready to go when that happened. I’ve never shied away from getting hurt when someone I care about was in danger, and I’m not about to start now.
“Who the fuck are you?” shouts the one I just punched in the side of the face, staggering with confusion.
He had his hands all over Amara, and I’m not about to forget that.
“Your worst nightmare,” I mutter as I draw back my fist and deliver another blow to his temple, knocking him out cold. I had the advantage of surprise with that one, but not so much with the others. They’re good, spreading out around me so that they can take me from different directions. But I’m a scrappy fighter and it’s not the first time I’ve found myself surrounded.