Lacey bites her lip, the words like a dare. A cruel, tempting dare.
Everyone.
That means Seth included. She hasn’t seen or spoken to him in three months. Not since Luke’s accident. She almost called him a hundred times after she saw that awful article the Nashville Star put out last month. But to what? To say she was there and that she knew what happened. That if he needed her to, she’d speak up. But she never did reach out. Her and Seth—they’re worlds apart. Coastlines. She barely even thinks of him.
Her fingers hover over the keypad. Wanting to give Sal an answer, but not knowing what it is.
A text from Colin bumps Lacey out of Sal’s chat.
ETA, darling? TLB closes at nine.
She squares her shoulders. On my way.
Changed back into her skirt and blazer, Lacey keeps a quick pace as she teeters her way down Wilshire Boulevard, following the address on the text from Colin. Not only did she have to FedEx the books to France, but now she’s getting dragged out to BFE to pick up a custom chef-created cupcake.
A freaking cupcake.
Still, it’s not the most ridiculous request she’s ever received. That honor goes to DeVorah DeVine and the guinea pig she planned a Viking funeral for.
What is ridiculous is the fact that she’s starving. She barely had time to scarf down a chalky Luna Bar in the parking garage before getting pinged once again by Colin.
Lacey hangs a left, pausing in the lip of an alley, in a small sliver of silver moonlight. She blinks up at the different storefronts, trying to pick out the address. “I deserve a raise,” she grumbles. She glances down at her phone and groans. She took a wrong turn somewhere. She’s nowhere near where she needs to be.
Rolling out her shoulders, she tucks her phone in the pocket of her bubble skirt. Her eyes survey the desolate alley. It’s not late, but it’s December and it’s dark, making six p.m. feel like ten. No one else exists on the street but her. The grating electric glow of a neon sign casts the alley in a hot pink glow. Lacey sighs, thinking about the sixteen-hour day that waits for her tomorrow. All she wants is her apartment, which is across town in Reseda. Not to mention her car, which is parked five blocks down. The unholy trek reminding her that Los Angeles is not meant for walking. Her heels aren’t either.
Forget it. Colin can wait for the cupcake.
Lacey turns to leave, moving for the mouth of the alley when there’s a rustling behind her. She pauses, listening. A rat, a cat, a something, she tells herself.
But she knows it’s not.
It’s the sound of footsteps.
She’s sure of it.
She moves fast now, her high heels sure and swift on the rough cement, her brain alive and alert with flight.
Footsteps, faster. Behind her. Her body goes rigid, fear prickling her spine. She picks up the pace. Her pulse races. Milk-white moonlight casts eerie shadows on the brick wall, the trash cans, and for a second, she thinks her eyes are playing tricks on her, but then out of the corner of her eye, she sees a shadow move.
Stupid, stupid, she’s so stupid.
A rough hand snakes around her stomach and slams her back against the brick wall.
The air’s knocked from her lungs. Lacey’s eyes fly open. Before she can scream, cold metal is pressed against her throat. A masked face, a rough voice in her ear. “Give me what you got or you’re dead.”
Lacey’s brain fizzes, fast-forwards to the end.
This is it. This is where she dies. Where she’s raped. Where’s she’s cut into little pieces like those damsels in distress in those gory horror movies she loves, movies she now regrets watching too many of.
The mugger tugs at her purse.
Lacey thrusts her hands out in front of her. “Take it,” she says, flinging her purse across the alleyway. “Take it all.”
She watches the mugger move for her purse. That stupid expensive purse she fell behind in rent payments for. Lacey flinches against the wall, wishing her nightmare over, but then like he’s changed his mind, he forgets the purse. He’s on her again.
“Little bitch,” he hisses. His heavy body pins her against the brick wall. His meaty hands slip-slide over her skirt, holding her hips, his thigh creeping between her legs to spread them. The scent of motor oil and nicotine stings her nostrils.
Lacey squeezes her eyes shut and freezes at the rough hand curving around her throat. Her brain, her body shutting down, readying themselves for the worst, for something that is out of her control.