“So what brings you to the shelter?” Cliff leaned over and snatched one of my carrots.
My hand stilled on the knife, what was I doing? “Just wanting to do my share, you know.” I forced the smile.
“But are you here for school, experience, what? Why do you stay here, no home to go to?” he asked me jokingly, but it was obvious they were all curious.
I started chopping again, desperately thinking of an answer that would satisfy them and make them stop asking more questions. My knife skidded off the carrots slicing my forefinger and thumb. Hissing in pain, I dropped the knife and quickly moved to the sink.
“Jesus!” Cliff cried as Amanda ran to get the first aid kit. After Sergio cleansed and wrapped my hand, I was sent upstairs to tell Lucille that I was off the kitchen for the day. I welcomed the reprieve, but still I felt slightly guilty for leaving them short. Knocking on the door to Lucille’s office, I waited. I heard voices, and then the door was opened and a man stood there. I stepped back warily. Possibly over six foot in height, he was broad shouldered, with grey sprinkled through his dark hair.
He ran a cursory glance over me, frowning slightly. “She’s all yours.” He walked down the hall, and with a glance back at me, he went down the stairs quickly. I didn’t know why I stood and watched him, was it because he made me uneasy?
“Devon?”
Snapping my head back to Lucille, I held up my bandaged hand. “Had an accident with a knife.”
Lucille asked if I was okay and then agreed I should spend the day in my room. She handed me a romance novel as I left her office, to “keep me entertained.”
Opening the window, I sat on the chair and watched the Denver sky for a while. The air wasn’t very fresh, as the shelter was situated off a busy street, so pollution from passing traffic was heavy. But the noises of the traffic and passing people were strangely soothing. The first two nights at the shelter, I had been so tired I had no trouble sleeping. However, as my body got used to the soft bed and my routine became more regulated, I’d found the quiet of the shelter a bit too unnerving.
After the initial exhaustion had worn off, I’d lain for a few nights waiting for him to come back. He hadn’t so far, but I wasn’t so naïve that I thought this temporary fix would ever be a permanent one.
I had thought over everything that had happened between us, though even in my brain, my subconscious rejected the terminology “us.” He had found me, even without knowing what I looked like? How? Did someone talk? Jimmy? Not unlikely. Mean Dick might have told them, but would he have had a chance? Had he seen the dead body too? If he had, would they have killed him? My brain also rejected that. I mean, Dead Eyes hadn’t killed me…why would he keep me alive and not Mean Dick?
I had to stop thinking about this. I wouldn’t be able to understand his reasoning, if it was reasoning. My mind drifted to his cold dead stare. He hadn’t at any time displayed emotion. He dumped you in a shower cubicle and turned on the cold water. He had dumped me in a shower cubicle and then soaked me. Was that emotion? Or just a convenient way to get me to stay put, like he had directed me in the first place. Getting up from the chair, I crossed the small space to the bed and lay down. My finger and thumb were throbbing. I had swallowed the two painkillers downstairs that Amanda had given me, but I was hungry. I didn’t want to go down for food, and it wasn’t right to take it when I hadn’t worked for it. Idly, I picked up the book Lucille had handed me. I read the back of the book. Dear Lord, did people read this? A college romance with so much teenage angst I felt the headache coming on just as I read the synopsis. I put the book down. Five minutes later, bored, I picked it up again.
An hour later, I was so engrossed in the story that I didn’t really register the knock on the door. “Devon?” the voice called as the door handle turned.
“Yeah,” I answered as I sat up.
Edna came into the room with a smile and a plate of food. “They told me you had a little accident downstairs, and I know you wouldn’t come down for food, so I thought I would take some up to you.”
“Oh, you didn’t need to do that,” I said even as my mouth watered at the smell of the hot food.
“Of course I did, you would go hungry.” She smiled as she placed the plate on the bed and handed me cutlery. As I picked up the plate, she sat on the chair. “So, I heard what they were asking you downstairs.”
My hand stilled as I raised the fork to my mouth. “Yeah?”
“They don’t mean to be so nosy, they don’t even realise they’re doing it.”
I forced a smile and took a bite. “It’s fine,” I lied.
Edna nodded thoughtfully as she watched me eat the roast chicken dinner. I felt uncomfortable under her scrutiny but kept eating. I was used to being invisible, so the fact that she was looking at me was disconcerting. “You okay over there?” I asked quietly as I took a mouthful of mashed potato.
“I’ve been working in these kitchens for years, you know,” Edna said while she swung her legs back and forth as she sat on the seat, sitting on her hands and looking out the window. “Seen a lot of people come through those doors. Fed them too.” She looked back at me with a small smile. “I remember the first time I saw you, you looked like a scared rabbit ready to flee. Never seen someone eat their food so fast. Like you were scared it was going to get taken.”
I put my fork down quietly as I listened. Shit. Wetting my lips, I raised my eyes to Edna. “I’m not that scared little rabbit anymore.”
“No, you’re not.” Edna smiled gently at me. “But you are scared, but not of being in here.” She shifted on the seat as she clasped her hands in front of her. “I don’t know what you’re in here for, but I know it’s to keep you safe.” Her legs were still swinging slowly between the chair legs. “Lucille is no fool and also not known for generosity.”
“She runs a homeless shelter,” I said, defending the woman who had given me a roof for the last two weeks.
“She does, but she has clear rules and she’s a hard-ass.” Edna shot me a wicked grin, and I laughed involuntarily at her description of Lucille. She did have rules and she was a hard-ass. You did not mess with Lucille’s shelter. “She took over here after you stopped coming, and I admit, I never gave much thought to you again, I see a lot of people,” Edna carried on. “But when you came into the kitchen two weeks ago, I remembered you.”
“Why are you telling me now?” I asked her. “You’ve had plenty of opportunities to tell me.”
“I’m not here to make trouble for you, Devon, your path is your own. But I know the people I work with, and they will ask again. And again. They won’t even know they’re being intrusive.” Edna stood and collected my plate. “If you’re in trouble, I reckon Lucille knows…but if she doesn’t, you need to tell her, and you need a story for those people down there. They care, they will try and help you if you let them.”
“I can’t,” I whispered. I could feel the pressure of the tears building.
“I didn’t think you could. You need to tell them something then.” Edna walked to the door and looked back at me. “I’ll never breathe a word of this. You’re a good girl, Devon, you’re tough and you’ll get through this.”
I gave a scornful laugh. “How do you know I’m tough, Edna?” I ran a hand down myself on the bed. “Do I look tough?” I shook my head in derision.
She took a deep breath as she looked at me. “It’s been what, almost two years? A long time for someone on the streets, and you’re clean, you’re not an addict, and you still have life in your eyes, so you’re not turning tricks. Tell me how surviving on the streets for that long and still being you, makes you weak?”
“I’m careful,” I answered softly.
“You’re smart.” Edna chuckled as she opened the door. “Keep being smart, Devon, I have faith in you girl.”
As the door closed behind her, I hung my head tiredly. I didn’t remember Edna from before. I had been so scared back then. The first time I came to the shelter and they gave me
food, I had behaved like they were going to take my food as I ate. The idea that they willingly gave me food for nothing in return was alien to me after having spent my first week on the streets. Then that guy with his innuendos, I hadn’t dared go back. Not long after that, I met Jimmy.
Was it time to move on? I didn’t have a lie for the people in the kitchen, and I dared not tell them the truth. Dead Eyes had been keeping me safe. Well, I thought he was, my gut told me he was, once the churning had settled. I didn’t know why. Was it for his means later or because there were others looking for me?
I picked up the college romance. I didn’t have to make this decision tonight. I had food in my belly, a bed, and a roof over my head. I opened the book to the page I had been reading. I’d think about this tomorrow. However, as I read, I couldn’t stop my mind from racing or fight the heaviness of my heart.
My feet were getting itchy, telling me it was time to move on.
What if he simply forgot I was here? It was possible. Anything was possible, wasn’t it?
I lay still in the darkness, trying to keep my breathing steady. I didn’t know what noise woke me, but I was aware enough not to startle awake, which would let whoever was in my room know that I knew they were there.
Jesus, was it him? I was scared to open my eyes. Afraid in case it was him, and even more terrified it wasn’t. What the hell did that say about me?
I felt the book heavy on my chest. I must have drifted off to sleep while I was reading it. Which was a compliment to the author as I had ended up really enjoying it. My high school English teacher always said books were the most legal form of escaping reality, and tonight, she had been correct. I got lost in the pages and forgot my own troubles for a while.
Relaxed enough to sleep with the door unlocked. I hadn’t locked the door once Edna left.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit!
It could be anyone in here. Did they know I was lying on the bed? Yes, Devon, they know, that’s why the light isn’t on.
Shit.
What did I have handy that I could defend myself with? Your feet. Run? I questioned myself. Yes, idiot, what do you think you’re going to do...invite them for a nap?
“You’re shit at pretending.” His voice was low and hard. “I thought being a street rat you would be better at this.”
“Street rat?” I sat up slowly. “That the best you got?” It was wrong that I was slightly relieved it was him.
“No.”
Okay then. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and thanked the angels he couldn’t see me. “Why are you here?”
“Time to go.”
“Go where?” I asked, my voice stronger than I thought it would be. My hands were shaking so badly I was glad he kept us in darkness.
“Enough questions. Get up.”
“No.” Who the hell was I to say no?
“You have five seconds to get off the bed, or I come over there.”
I swallowed. I could scream. I mean, I wouldn’t, but I could. Standing slowly, I waited for a moment. “Now what?”
“Let’s go.” I heard him cross the floor, and then the door was being opened, the sliver of light illuminating the room more. I could see his side profile as he stood to the side. It really was him. I felt my heart drop, the droplet of relief from earlier drying up as soon as I took in his sharp features.
“I need the bathroom,” I blurted.
His sigh was soft, but I heard it. I was annoying him. Good. The door closed gently, and we were in darkness again. “You have one minute.”
Darting into the bathroom, I closed the door. I felt it shudder as something stopped it from closing completely. I put pressure on the door, it didn’t move. “You’re not going to let me close the door?” My voice was incredulous.
“You now have forty seconds.”
“Dick!” I hissed at him even as I unbuttoned my cargo pants and shoved them down. It took more time than I wanted, so I ended up running the tap to mask the sound. I wasn’t a prude usually, I’d peed in the street many times, not proud of it, but it was a necessity. Here, with him listening? No. That was uncomfortable.
I flushed and then washed my hands. Reaching out to grab my toothbrush, my hand clutched empty air. I patted the sink and found nothing, and suddenly my hand stilled as I felt him step up behind me.
“What are you doing?”
“Toothbrush.”
“I have it.”
He did? How long had he been in here? “Um…”
“Let’s go.”
He still stood behind me. The term “fight or flight” fluttered around my head, and after two weeks of good eating and healthier living, my body wanted to fight. He wasn’t expecting my elbow in his gut, I hadn’t been either, and if I wasn’t so good at running, I would have stayed frozen. I heard his grunt, and I brought my clenched fist up to his face. I didn’t make full contact, but I definitely took him by surprise. Turning swiftly, I raised my foot and kicked the bastard in the shin.
I was sprinting out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Racing to the main bedroom door, I was out and running down the hall. I heard the door slam off the wall, and I jumped down most of the stairs, thanking God I never broke a leg…or worse.
The main door was locked and bolted, and I paused for a moment before I headed to the kitchen. The kitchen had a fire escape, and I jumped and slid over the workstation and then finally, I was bursting through to the street. I heard yells behind me and knew I would have woken the homeless who were seeking beds for the night.
I didn’t have time to think about the chaos I was leaving behind as I kept running. This time I knew where I was going. Edna had started me thinking, and even as I had read, my route for my departure had already formed in my head.
Two weeks of rest and good food had been an advantage, and my legs felt strong as I ran, not like last time where I had been running solely on adrenaline. This time, I was running on stamina and adrenaline.
I’d run track and cross country at school. Although those years were well behind me, I’d run regularly every day until about four years ago. I was fast. I had always been fast, and Mr-I-Don’t-Need-A-Light-To-See-You wasn’t as fast as I was.
Cutting across Eighteenth Street, I took the turn onto Larimer and then ran full speed down Seventeenth. If I could get to Benedict Fountain Park, I would be on the homestretch. I heard a yell behind me, and regardless if it was for me or not, I got my second wind and my feet ate up the sidewalk.
A dumpster rolled out in front of me, and I was going too fast to stop. I hit it full on, throwing my hands up instinctively to protect my face. The speed I hit that tin can with meant I landed flat on my ass. As I scrambled to my feet, I felt the cold hand on the back of my neck.
“Well, look what I have.”
Turning to look up, my stomach turned when I saw who had stopped me. “I seen you running like the devil was chasing you, and I thought to myself, who would want this little bitch?”
“You have to let me go.” I struggled in Benny’s hold. I’d run from one monster to another. Benny was the pimp who ran the girls on the corner of Champa and had tried to “recruit” me several times.
“You’re going nowhere, baby.” He leaned into me, and I caught a whiff of his rancid breath. “You look like you need protection, I can protect you.” He held me tight and close to his side as he led me up a side street. As I struggled in his hold, he turned me abruptly and slapped me hard across the face.
“Fucker!” I hissed as the blow knocked me to the ground.
“You’re mine now,” Benny muttered threateningly as he took a knife out of his belt. “Give me trouble, I’ll cut your face. Johns don’t care that much about busted up faces as long as they get what they want between your legs.”
“Fuck you!” My hands and feet were backing me away from him as he advanced on me, his hand going to his belt.
“No, baby, I’m gonna fuck you, make sure you’re good for my customers.”
His smile made me sick, sicker than his words did. I heard the soft popping sound, then he wasn’t smiling. He stood behind him, and I saw Benny’s look of confusion before looking down at his chest at the spreading blood in confusion, his hands patting his front uselessly.
He jerked forward again as the second bullet took him, and then he lay crumpled at my feet. I stared up at Dead Eyes with my mouth hanging open in shock. I think it was shock, maybe it was relief, but most likely plain old fear.
“Get up.”
“You killed him.”
“You’re sharp as a tack.” He wasn’t looking at me, probably confident that I had no strength left to run. I watched him pull his phone out of his pocket. “It’s me. Need a cleanup at Seventeenth and Champa, the asshole pimp’s patch. Tell Sal he needs someone to collect the assets before they bolt.” He hung up.
He turned back to me, and his eyes ran over me uninterestedly. “Up.”
“Why not kill me here?”
His stare was steady, his face blank. “Get up.”
“No.”
“This is tedious.” He marched forward and, bending slightly, dragged me to my feet. With a grip far firmer than Benny’s, I was taken out to the other side of the side street, and then I saw the shiny black car from last time. I knew nothing about cars, but I knew this one was expensive. It looked sleek. The doors clicked open, and I was once again half pushed into the back seat. This time, I didn’t try to attempt to leave, I sat, and as I waited for him to get in, I raised a hand to my lip and tentatively felt around the swelling. Benny had busted my lip. Bastard.
He drove us in silence downtown, the blacked-out windows hiding me from any curious passerby who may look in the car without knowing they were witnessing my kidnapping.
I stared at his side profile, and he didn’t look at me. Not once. I knew he knew I was looking at him, and he didn’t seem fazed. His eyes watched the rearview mirror and his side mirrors, but he never once glanced my way. I may as well not have been here.
Passing Denver streetlights lit up his face, and once again I found myself studying him. Ridiculously long eyelashes were what I noticed first. Women would pay for those lashes. My hand flicked the corner of my left eye. There was a time I would have paid for those lashes. His stubble was more than a five o’clock shadow today. I always knew monsters were hairy.
Beautifully Broken (The Denver Series Book 2) Page 5