Dante's Fire(4)

Selina also learned early in the game how to succeed in the executive  boys' club. The two main requirements consisted of a sharp sense of  humor and a thick skin. She'd never once had to worry about harassment,  but she doubted she would have been as close to the team if she hated  bars, beer, and occasional crudeness.

Her conversation with Daniel flashed in her mind. Yes, she loved opera,  and fine dining and art museums. Money brought that type of culture and  opportunity. Selina never apologized for it, and enjoyed the finer  points of life, but growing up in a foster home with a bunch of  step-siblings, with no one to depend on but herself, taught her the  proper ways to curse, tell bawdy jokes, defend herself, and drink like a  fish without collapsing.

Ways to survive on the streets.

But Daniel had never seen that part of her. Never would.

Edward slid into the booth clutching a Guinness and a slip of paper.  Selina laughed out loud at his look. "Was it the blonde rooting for the  Mets?" she asked, gesturing to the phone number written in black ink.

He winked. "Hell, yeah. She wanted me from the first look."

"Hmm, you know she went initially for the dude with the fat wallet over  there?" Selina pointed to the guy dressed in the designer suit, sporting  a three hundred dollar haircut, and hefty Rolex. He sat across the bar  talking to another hottie. "So, I'd say you're sloppy seconds."

Ed waved his hand in the air in dismissal. "Who the hell cares? I got her number."

"Nothing like high standards, Ed."

"I need to get laid."

"I'd say so. You going on thirty days now?"

Ed glared. "Twenty. You going on six months, Rogers?"         

     



 

She grinned, swigged more beer, and stuck out her tongue. "I go for quality, not quantity. You should give it a try."

"No, thanks. I like quantity just fine." He ordered another Guinness. "So, are we set on our meeting with Forrester?"

Selina nodded. "Yep, Thursday at six. Waldorf Astoria, baby--only the  best. A little dazzle, a bit of kiss ass, and maybe we can get him to  commit."

"I'm tired of kissing ass. Why doesn't somebody kiss my ass?"

She drained the rest of her beer and stood up. "Maybe you'll get lucky  with that move from Blondie." They both laughed. "I'm exhausted - doing a  Batman."

"Tom will call you a wuss. He wanted to play you in darts."

"Tell him I went to the restroom and I'll take the heat later. I need a good night's sleep. See you at six tomorrow?"

He shot her a disgusted glare. "Can't believe I agreed to that on a Saturday. Yeah, fine. Need me to get you a cab?"

"Nah, it's still early and I'm only a few blocks. I'll walk."

"I'll walk with you," he said.

She shook her head and grabbed her purse. "No reason, plenty of people out tonight. I'll be fine."

"All righty then. See you in the morning."

"Later."

Selina slipped out through the crowds and breathed in the first rush of  frosty air. She stuck her hands in the pockets of her mocha trench coat  and headed towards home. The image of soft comfy PJ's and a Lifetime  movie beckoned. With the ease of an expert, she shifted her body around  other pedestrians, leapt around a speeding cab, and tuned out the  chaotic sounds of one of the largest cities in America. She took a right  and headed uptown to her Central Park West apartment. Close to the  famous Dakota Hotel where John Lennon died, the area contained gorgeous  art deco architecture, proximity to Central Park, and the perfect mix of  business and play. Her mind shut down as she walked the familiar path.  Passing endless brownstones impeccably maintained, she tucked her head  down and thought over any loophole she may have missed in the Forrester  contract. She caught the scent of coffee from an open cafe, veered  around a handsome man walking his dog, and crossed the street, not  caring that it flashed red with warning. Her heel hit a crack in the  pavement as she kept walking, looking forward to seeing the familiar  golden ears of corn, as she liked to term the carvings on her apartment  building. Shadows deepened, but the residential neighborhood tended to  cater to career yuppies with a hip edge. She'd walked this sidewalk  dozens of times and at all hours. Bred a city girl at heart she still  understood the dangers and laced her fingers around her apartment keys -  edge kept out in case of any surprise, as she closed the distance to  home. Her low-heeled boots slapped against the pavement and echoed in  the night.

It was in the echo of her heels she heard voices coming up fast behind her.

On instinct, she gripped the keys in defense position; positive she was  overreacting, as this had happened before, walking the dark streets  alone. One would be a fool not to be prepared. She ran her thumb over  the dense key tips, ready to swing if necessary. She picked up the pace;  sure she'd increased the gap between her and those on the sidewalk  behind her.

Seconds later, she was grabbed from behind. She hadn't the time to react  as the palm of her assailant stifled her scream, and her keys fell to  the ground. She tried to bite, kicked back hard, but they dragged her  down the stairs of a brownstone into the small, black space where barred  windows told of a vacant, closed apartment. Her back hit the brick wall  so hard her teeth knocked together.

The breath whooshed out of her lungs and the world tilted. Adrenalin cut  through her body in a rush of cold, sharp fear, and she moved fast,  seeing a gap in the space between them and diving as fast as possible  for freedom.

She never made it.

The first punch connected with her cheek. A sickening crack rose to her  eardrums as she fell hard on her ass. The pain rolled in waves and she  choked on the nausea, fighting for consciousness. When she tried to  rise, the kick to her stomach made sure she stayed down. She retched,  but then there were hands pushing her onto the rough, cold pavement. Her  mind screamed, but her voice sounded weak as she cried the mantra over  and over, the only word she could think of, the only word holding her to  sanity.

"No, no, no, no, no..."

"Shut up, bitch."

The slap stung, then burned. They ripped off the trendy coat, tore the  delicate cardigan sweater she'd once been so proud of. It had been her  favorite. Her power cardigan. They cursed, their voices low and mean,  blending in a never-ending nightmare. She pushed, she kicked, but they  hit her, held her, and suddenly her breasts were naked and bare to their  filthy gazes. The air rushed over her skin and she almost retched,  feeling the torn fabric hanging in tatters around her, while hard hands  groped and touched and mauled and marked.         

     



 

She slipped when they tore her jeans. She knew she wouldn't be saved,  knew she had to go somewhere else. There was too much horror, the  shadows hiding their faces, her vision blurred with the pain and the  blood dripping into her eyes as they tore her hair. She took a step into  the distance, away from the woman on the ground who was rich,  confident, and working on a killer deal. Back, back, back …  away from  this moment. This terrible and horrible moment. She closed her eyes,  focusing on everything … anything, but this moment …  and then …  then …

They were gone.

Her mind flew from where it had wandered and she suddenly found herself  gasping for air, her sanity stolen from the monsters that ran into the  night. Sobs escaped her lips as she pushed herself up from the ground;  knowing she had to run, get help. The rusty taste of blood lingered on  her tongue, and she got on her hands and knees and began crawling. Up  the stairs and to the light. Help, help, she needed help...

She pushed up to her feet. Fell. Grasped at the torn fabric beside her,  needing to cover her naked breasts, and tried again. Selina wobbled,  maintained her balance, and began to stumble forward to safety.

Then she looked up.

The two men who had been on her seconds before lay on the ground in a  broken tangle. One flat on his back, the other draped over him in  obvious pain, apparent by the low groans coming from the ground. A man  stood over them dressed completely in black, his eyes glowing in the  darkness.

Selina froze in sheer terror. Her mind groped desperately for reality  but fear pulsed through every blood vessel, pumping furiously as her  entire body shook in reaction to the scene before her. The rage  shimmering around the man reached out in a tangible ripple, whirling  around the sprawled attackers like a tornado. As this tornado grew  denser and picked up in speed, the sound of a crashing wave roared in  her ears. The darkness turned to a dim red, glowing and illuminating the  two men on the pavement, and then the glow turned hot.

Flames burst from the circle.

Selina moaned and stumbled back. A dim corner of her mind screamed for  her to run, but her body wouldn't obey. She stood and watched the  mysterious stranger hold out his hands and murmur a chant, his voice  deep and hypnotic, and the flames turned into two, swirling around each  victim as if ready to mark them.