It was a fucked-up lose, lose situation.
I didn’t see anything changing in the immediate future.
The wind picked up and whipped a cold blast of snow off the roof as Trish screeched and then ran toward her car, starting the engine as I laughed from the back entrance, not closing the door until I was sure that her car wasn’t going to break down and no one was following. Assured of her safety, I pulled the door closed with a click and slid the lock into place.
A quick walk down the hall and around the corner led into the stock room where extra supplies were kept, and boxes of snacks towered next to the full shelves. The walk-in kept all of the frozen and refrigerated items in their proper place and temperature. I’d organized most of it myself since I’d been hired on, working extra shifts to stash away enough money for the future. At least, that was the plan.
Before Suraya died.
That was how I categorized shit in my head now. Life before six months ago and the present.
Sighing, I made my way into the kitchen, sneaking up on Hank as he fried up a bunch of curly fries, jalapeño poppers, and chicken strips. He was humming to a country song and swishing his narrow hips while he lightly stomped a pair of tan suede cowboy boots with turquoise sparkles. I loved the shit out of this guy. He was the only person who could make me laugh since . . . well, you know. The headphones completely cut out all noise, so he didn’t hear my approach. It was the perfect opportunity.
“Hey,” I called out, grabbing at the sides of his waist as he yelped and dropped the batch of fries back into the oil with a light splash.
“Sasha,” he scolded, “girl you made me squeal like a little piglet. I’m gonna tell Rod.”
Snorting, I acted like I was about to slap him on the ass. “Don’t start. Besides, your boy toy loves me.”
“Almost as much as I do,” he quipped, pulling the fries out to cool as they dripped grease into the vat. “Trish leave?”
“Yeah.” I snatched one of the chicken strips cooling in a nearby basket. “Did you make extra just for me?”
“You know it. Hurry up, table three is nastier than a wet fart on Sunday mornin’ in church.”
“Eww,” I responded with a chuckle, setting the chicken strip back in the spare basket. “You’re disgusting.”
“So’s the dumbass who keeps asking for his food every two minutes since I got the order.” Hank placed the fried appetizers into baskets lined with red paper napkins and added little black cups of condiments.
Shaking my head, I picked up the tray as he held open the swinging door. “Thanks, babe.”
Holiday music was still playing from the jukebox as I entered, balancing the tray as I sashayed from behind the counter and headed out into the dining area. Table three had been full of a bunch of rowdy locals, middle-aged men who should be home with their wives instead of hanging out at a rundown sports bar complete with a couple of stripper poles that flashed tits and ass when there was a girl desperate enough to hang around and earn quick cash. Tonight, with the severe weather, only Elvis Presley’s Blue Christmas was keeping these fools company.
The few big screen plasma televisions were on mute, scrolling the news, sports, or a random comedy complete with subtitles. I hated to hear them and didn’t bother with the noise unless someone asked. No one usually did, especially if there was entertainment of the scantily dressed female kind.
It wasn’t until I was halfway across the room that I noticed table three was empty. Turning to the bar, it only took a second to be concerned. Shelly wasn’t mixing any drinks. No one was seated in front of her or any of the previously occupied tables. She was gone.
My foot bumped into something on the ground and I stumbled, nearly tripping as I held onto the tray of food and watched it slide toward the ground. I tilted at the last minute and kept everything from spilling until my eyes found the bloody jeans and black leather vest of a man on the ground. He wasn’t moving even though I couldn’t see any visible wounds. Vacant eyes stared up at the ceiling as a chill ghosted across my spine. Something bad happened and I wasn’t sticking around long enough to find out what it was.
Been there, done that, almost died in the process.
No repeat performance of a near death experience for me. Hell no!
I didn’t hesitate to place the tray on a nearby table and spin on my heel, running at a dead sprint toward the kitchen where I hoped Hank had the common sense to stay. Nobody else needed to die tonight. I was done with finding bodies on the damn ground or fighting for my life. Why didn’t I leave with Trish when she asked?
The kitchen was empty when I entered and I didn’t pause, running toward the stockroom and the crate that blocked the old vent not in use anymore. I pried open the metal grate and reached inside, vaguely aware that only one bag remained. The back door was ajar when I approached the employee exit, but I didn’t pause to consider who could be waiting on the other side.
Bursting through the open space, I was prepared to make a run for it. As luck would have it, I didn’t get far. Slamming into the hard body in front of me, I bounced off and hit the ground as a scream tore from my throat. A muscled mountain of a man yanked me up like a ragdoll and placed his gloved hand over my mouth as multiple shouts and the sound of running feet closed in on our location.
The man cursed, dragging me along for a few seconds until I was lifted in the air and he sprinted around the side of the building. “Don’t move,” he snarled, caging me in with his massive frame.
Only one thing concerned me more than the thought of my imminent death. Something that I hadn’t paused to consider until right now.
Trish’s emergency bag wasn’t next to mine where she had left it. The backpack was gone.
Chapter 3 – Bodie
“Don’t move,” I snarled, pressing my body up against the curvy brunette. It had been ages since I felt the soft flesh of a woman up against my own. Her generous curves molded to my towering frame and seemed to fit into all the gaps and spaces with an ease that was downright disconcerting. Something about her was almost familiar – the way she fit into my embrace, the soft sigh that she uttered in the dark and frozen night, the feminine voice that whispered that I was practically squishing her to the point of suffocation.