I sensed the warmth of a body part near my face, and let out a violent scream as the thick piece of duct tape was torn from my eyes.
Blinking against the light, I looked around to find myself on the floor, but I had no idea where I was. A woman was standing over me, smirking at me. She seemed somewhat familiar, with blond hair and heavily painted eyes, but I couldn’t recall where I knew her from. I didn’t hang out with models or strippers or exotic dancers. This lady was attractive, curvy but fit, with big pouty pink lips and her glossy hair that was perfectly straight.
Who was she?
“So, what do you think now, Ms. Justice?”
I went to try to rip the tape at my mouth so I could answer her with a question—what was she talking about—but I realized my hands were tied behind me. How did I not notice? It must have been all the splinters residing in my thigh. Wait, I wasn’t feeling them anymore.
Actually, I didn’t feel my leg at all.
Terrified, I lifted my head and peered down at my body. I was wearing familiar leggings and a T-shirt, as if I’d been working out.
“Hello?” Blondie asked, her accent coming out a bit thicker.
I’d been running the stairs. That was how I knew the woman! She was in the stairwell, running fast as hell. She’d spoken to me right before I apparently blacked out.
Was she the person who did this to me?
I moaned, murmuring behind my gag to get her to release the tape, and she did. Although the whole fast like a Band-Aid thing didn’t really apply. It felt as if an entire layer of my skin was ripped from my face, and wetness—which I assumed was blood—dripped onto my chin. The coppery taste on my tongue as it reached out to wet my lips confirmed my suspicions.
Fear set up camp in my heart. I was going to die here, and I didn’t even know why. All I’d ever wanted was to live my life peacefully. I wanted to do better than my parents had, perhaps not survive paycheck to paycheck. Until I met Jake. Then I’d wanted it all.
That was why this was happening. I wanted too much.
“What do you want?” My question came out scratchy, my throat raw and painful.
“A new kind of justice, Ms. Road.”
I tried shaking my leg. Desperate, I needed to feel it. Pain shot up to my groin and straight to my solar plexus. Silently rejoicing, I felt my leg. It was there!
My leg. One leg. Half the pair.
The pair Jake drooled over. He called me Legs.
My brain floated out of the room, ignoring the woman pacing in front of me.
He also called me Aly-cat . . . and Legs.
I want Jake back.
One minute I was dreaming of Jake, and the next, the breath was knocked from my lungs. A scream ripped from my throat and I lifted my head to see the blond bombshell standing on the pieces of my leg—correct that, bone—in big-ass heels and leather pants. She ground her heel into my exposed leg, causing more blood to come from somewhere and louder snaps.
Sweat poured from me, all the moisture escaping my pores. My eyes were dry—I had no tears left—and I simply whimpered.
“I want justice, Ms. Road. For me and my people,” she said, her words sounding as if they were far away as my consciousness wavered.
“From me?” I forced out through my bloody lips.
“You are defending my boyfriend, Gus Cameron, and I know that stupid limp-dick is up to no good. He wants to pin it all on me . . . and yes, most of the handiwork was mine. But I’m needed out here in the world to keep our race pure, to bring more justice for the Aryans.”
I took a deep inhale and tried to pull myself together. Breathe in, breathe out. Focus!
My client, Gus Cameron, was her boyfriend. He was waiting to turn someone in . . . was it her? Were all those pictures on the wall of his apartment hers? Had she committed all the hate crimes, and he only covered for her?
“He should’ve never fucked the blond Jew,” the woman spat out. “He should only dip his dick in Aryan pussy. I told him that, and he didn’t listen. I know she looked pure, being blond, but the bitch wasn’t. He’s going to pay because you’re going to fix the case and send him to prison.”
Fix the case?
Wasn’t that what the note said, the one left in my ransacked apartment? Did that make this woman my stalker?
“Okay, I don’t want to die,” I said slowly, croaking out the words. “I need medical help. Why don’t you help me, and then I’ll help you?”
“No! No medical help until the deal’s done and Cameron’s back behind bars.”
I would die if I didn’t get help soon; I was bleeding out. Already I was light-headed, having a hard time concentrating, and my vision kept going in and out.
A sob escaped my throat as my mind whirled. I wasn’t made to survive this type of thing. I was the daughter of a maid, a sheltered girl, poor but not necessarily tough. Praying frantically, I started making promises to God, to any higher power who would listen. A bright light flooded my face and I was sure it was Him—God—or maybe it was the light calling me.
Why did this woman have such a thick Russian accent? Hitler hated the Russians. Then I remembered reading something in my case preparation about neo-Nazi hate crimes, about some Russians declaring themselves Aryans.
The light brightened, and a booming voice rang out. “Marina! What the fuck? What the hell did you do?”
“You! You did it. You were going to turn me in and let them slaughter me like a pig, Gus. So I’m taking matters into my own hands.”
“You can’t fucking do that, Marina! She works for the government. You’re going to fry for this. I was trying to get us a deal. Fucking Christ, now what am I going to do?”
Lightness and darkness alternated, swirling around me. Voices faded in and out, and then I heard what sounded like a gunshot. I was pretty sure my body jerked at the sound, but that was only in theory, in my rattled brain.
Sometime later I realized my lap was soaking wet; I must have peed myself. Silence took over, and darkness returned. Unable to do anything else, I continued to lie there for a time, resting my eyes as I contemplated how much I really wanted to live.
With pain jolting through me, I turned my head and looked around.
There was blood everywhere, all over my skin and clothes. At the sight of the dark red liquid spilling from me onto the dirty floor, my head spun like the Tilt-A-Whirl at the carnival. My vision blurred, turning hazy as light came and went. I wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality. The light seemed to be seeping in from somewhere, but I didn’t know where.
Was this death? Would I never live? At the thought, shrieks escaped my throat, barreling up through my vocal cords.
I’d never hurt so badly in my life. My eyes kept drooping from the shock and the pain. I didn’t know where I was or how the hell to get help, but I wanted it.
I wanted to live. I didn’t want to just survive, but I needed to breathe his air, Jake’s air, to live with him side by side. But like the blood seeping from my body, the chances of him finding me were slipping. Fading. Everything was darkening, and then the light came again.
“Help!” I screamed, but it came out more of a ragged whisper, my throat completely raw from earlier. “Help!” My voice echoed off the wooden walls that surrounded me, walls I hadn’t noticed before. I was in some kind of barn, but I didn’t know where.
How would anyone find me?
I’m going to die here.
Light blasted into the room and voices took up residence in my mind. This was it. It was over. I was in heaven or hell, or maybe it was purgatory. I didn’t know.
“Ma’am?” a soft voice called to me. “Ma’am,” the voice repeated, and a hand shook my shoulder.
I didn’t want to go. I’d changed my mind; I wanted to stay dead. I was ready to die. Whatever was left of me wouldn’t be enough for Jake . . . or for me.