Chapter One
With the whiskey of my Jameson and Ginger still warming my body, I stepped out into the slight chill of the late night air. The full moon hung above the buildings, throwing an eerie blue-gray haze over the damp pavement. Cars glistened, making even this back parking lot a shiny sight if I looked in just the right places. Over-aware of my surroundings suddenly, I pulled my thin sweater tighter around me as the hair rose on my neck. A shiver having nothing to do with the temperature slithered down my back.
Had my need for a heavier drink than the cosmos my friends drank tonight been some foreshadowing of events to come? I’d lived life by my instincts, even if over–the-top sometimes. I believed with all my heart that they alone had gotten me through the hard times. A single girl in the big city couldn’t be too overly cautious. I wished I’d have been a few minutes ago, though, when I’d decided to walk to my car alone. Better safe than sorry had always been my life’s creed. So, I had no idea what the hell I was doing now.
Christina, I berated myself, don’t let your imagination run wild yet again. Simply walk to your car. No one lurks in the shadows to hurt you.
Shaking my head at my apprehensive nature, with a deep breath I forced my feet forward. I’d parked in the side alley because, when I’d arrived, this club’s parking lot had already been full. The further I walked along the first row of cars, the more distance I felt from the noise of the bar and the security of my girlfriends. Safety in crowds, I’d always heeded, having grown up here in New York City. Yet, for some unknown and stupid reason, whether the whiskey or the girl talk, who knew, tonight I’d felt bold enough to go out alone.
On top of that, for some other unexplainable reason, I’d felt drawn to leave early. On the other hand, neither of my two girlfriends had had the same inclination. My words of I’ll be fine echoed in my ears now as I turned the corner to the alley. My intuition had done a complete turn on me. I sensed I wasn’t alone, though the deep shadows beckoned otherwise. As the slight drizzle picked up into rain, I squinted to ensure no shadow changed, that nothing moved out there just beyond my car.
What had beckoned to me to go outside, I couldn’t explain. Regardless, I’d heeded the feeling. Something or someone had called to me, I swore. I’d had the great urge to obey, to come. To what I walked toward, I hadn’t a clue. Yet, in the club, I’d felt a great need. The tightening of my muscles had make my heart pound, until I’d had to obey, crazy or not.
Steps away, I fumbled my keys in my hand, one between each finger to form a weapon. Having just got the last one in place, the sharp edge of the teeth tight in the webbing of my fingers, the force of two hands threw me to the ground. Stunned, my mind tried to focus in, evaluate my plight and possible options. Survival mode overwhelmed my sense for a moment. As the first slices of pain registered in my brain, so did the cold that permeated through my now soaking wet dress and sweater. Worse, I felt what could only be the round barrel of a gun pressed between my shoulder blades.
“Money and keys,” a gruff, male voice demanded. “Make of car.”
As he’d spoken, he’d pushed the gun a little harder against my spine for emphasis. While willing my mouth to work, my attacker twisted the point of that gun barrel as if he could impale me with it without firing. My spine screamed for mercy even as my voice failed to do so. I waited for my bone to break. The odd wonder of whether you felt pain or went immediately numb from paralysis skittered through my cloudy thoughts.
I swallowed hard and closed my eyes tight. Dull white balls of light danced in my eyelids. I did manage to think twice though before I shook my head to overcome the dizziness that tried to overwhelm me. Didn’t want him thinking that I was trying to get away and clock me across the back of the head with his gun. I’d probably read too many crime novels. On second thought, I’d have thought something in them should have helped me here. This was real life, though, and I was in real danger.
Opening my eyes to only car tires and puddles, I squeaked out, “Take whatever you want. The keys are in my hand and my money in my purse.”
“Don’t move,” he hissed. “What damn car do you drive?”
I felt him grab my hand. The scratches on my knuckles burned with his leather-gloved touch. The cold metal of the keys scraped my palm, which had not easily released. My hand thrown back down to the pavement, the increasing chill sent painful vibrations through my almost numb fingers. The man on me moved. His knee or something pressed down on my back, as well, stopping the air I took in, forming roughly in gasps from not being able to move into my right lung. The air that managed to get in burned.