I’d done it before. Slipped out via my own balcony. A couple times when I accidentally locked myself inside the house, and another time when Keller was here and made me promise him I wouldn’t break my promise not to eat ice cream after midnight.
My hands and feet shook. Despite that, I slid down easily. Hopping over the balcony, firmly placing one foot over the gutter, then lowering myself until I was leaning against a garden statue.
I hopped down, cleaning mud and grass from my hands and knees. I peered into the house. Max was there, looking out the opposite window, his back to me.
Turning around, I slipped into my second favorite car, the Prius. It was parked outside the garage from the time NeNe had borrowed it to stealth from a Botox treatment undetected, so no app was going to ping.
The entire drive downtown, I kept staring at the note with the address. What could Ransom possibly be looking for in this part of town? It wasn’t seedy per se, but it wasn’t swanky, either.
Forty minutes later, I was at my destination. I parked in front of the address on the note. It was a Mexican bar. Small, loud, bursting with colors and music. The front patio was teeming with people drinking and laughing.
He’d gone drinking?
Slowly, grasping my clutch to my hip, I began moving through the thick crowd on the patio searching for his face. What was I expecting to see? Ransom on a date? How stupid. I didn’t even know the guy and I knew he wasn’t the dating type.
He wasn’t in the bar. He wasn’t in the seating area, either. It occurred to me that he may have tricked me, to see if I’d take the bait and follow him here.
I made my way out of the bar, the music shaking the ground beneath my feet. The street was still alive and buzzing. I decided to take a quick walk. Maybe he went somewhere nearby instead?
I knew I was getting myself into trouble. Worse still, I knew I was getting Max into hot water, too. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on me. But I’d wanted to see what Ransom was up to when he wasn’t at the house.
Passing by an alleyway full of industrial trashcans, I heard a noise.
“Aww.”
I stopped in my tracks, my ears perking, straining to hear more.
The muffled moans—like a small child crying—grew louder and more desperate. They were coming from the passageway.
When I was in college (for one semester, mind you), the sorority house director once told us if we found ourselves getting physically harassed or attacked, to scream “fire” instead of “rape”. Because fire was a collective problem, and people were more likely to rush to help you, while rape was something people didn’t want to witness or get involved in. And now hearing these voices…I couldn’t just turn around and risk the chance of not helping someone in need.
Well, I wasn’t one of those people.
I opened my small clutch, taking out the taser Keller got me for Christmas, and stepped deeper into the alleyway.
Immediately, two darkened silhouettes came into view. The woman was pressed against a red-bricked wall. Her cocktail dress was pushed up, her panties shoved down haphazardly to her knees. Her face glistened with tears. The man behind her pounded into her mercilessly. His fingers were shoved deep into her mouth, making her gag. His form was big, strong, wired with muscles.
I clutched the taser in my hand, getting ready to aim it at him as I gingerly stepped closer.
“Don’t try to fight it, sweetheart. You’ll just make it worse for yourself,” he taunted viciously into her ear.
My legs froze.
Ransom.
It was Ransom.
I’d recognize that deep, callous voice anywhere.
“What the fuck!” I was shaking so bad I almost dropped the damn taser I aimed at him.
Both Ransom and hisvictim!turned their heads toward me. The bastard had the decency to remove his hand from her mouth and wipe it over her dress. The woman looked more shocked than relieved to see me, but I couldn’t exactly blame her, considering the circumstances.
“I cannot believe you!” I felt tears, hot and fat, streaming freely down my cheeks. My mouth was coated with sour bile. “I cannot believe what you just did.”
“What’re you doing here?” His voice was inscrutable. Void of emotions. Well, of course it was. He was a goddamn psychopath. “Where the hell is Max?”
That’sthe conversation he wanted to be having right now? Desperate gaslighting if I ever saw it.