Page 26 of Heartless

“How can I help you, Jeff?”

“Well, I came out after seeing your performance last week. You ladies were terrific.”

“Thanks so much. Was that the first time that you heard aboutMirage?”

“Um, yes. My wife and I don’t live too far from here, and we have twelve-year-old twins. We brought them to your show because they love to dance. Naturally after the performance, they wanted to join. They pestered the heck out of my wife and me. I promised that I’d come by here after work today.”

“Oh, you should have brought them.”

Shrugging, he says, “They had swim practice. So, I volunteered to pick up some information and take it back home.”

“That was sweet of you,” I say.

I grab a few brochures and spread them out on the table as I explain the classes that we offer based on skill and age level. I go over pricing with him and then hand him my card. When we finish, I give him a tour of the three dance rooms beyond where we’re standing and walk him back to the reception area.

“If you or your wife have any more questions, just give me a call.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks, and have a good evening, Ms. Meadow.”

“You do the same, Jeff,” I say, walking him to the door.

I turn back to the desk and grab my dance bag, checking to make sure that my wallet is inside. A quick glance at the trash, and I decide to run that out the back door before I leave.

Once I’ve dumped it into the can, I step back into the studio, and no sooner than I grab the handle to pull the door closed is when I feel an arm wrap around my waist and a hand clamp over my mouth.

I jerk my elbow back and connect with a hard midsection before I bring my foot down on my attacker’s foot.

He grunts, and I twist in his arms, but I get nowhere as he squeezes me in a tighter grip until I can barely breathe.

The man brandishes a knife and pulls it against my throat. Panic swells inside of me like a raging river, and the forceful sting of tears burns the backs of my eyes.

I have no idea what he wants, and I suddenly wish that I hadn’t let the girls go, but they’re long gone by now.

There’s no one for me to rely on except for myself, so I fight. I kick, scratch and claw as much as I can until he carries me into one of the smaller rear studio rooms, locks the door, and slams me onto my back.

The air is knocked from my chest, and fear claws at my insides. Pain radiates up my back and legs as I scramble to try to get on my feet.

The man hovers over me, and I instantaneously reach out and pull the ski mask from his head.

Oh, God, please don’t let him kill me,I pray silently. I’m terrified that I won’t survive this ordeal.

He jumps back away from me with a devilish blue-eyed gaze and cocky sneer and says, “All I want is the money, lady.”

“I have no money. I don’t keep cash here.”

“You’re fucking lying to me!”

As he walks closer to me, I jump up on my feet. The man’s large, callused hand wraps around my throat until tiny pinpricks sting me all over my body, and things start to go black.

I have to survive. I have to fight.

I swing, but he punches me in my stomach, forcing the air from within me and causing me to double over. I refuse to go down, though, because if I do, I don’t stand a fighting chance of surviving.

Pain sears every part of my body, and fear rockets throughout me.

“Please...if I had it, I would give it to you. I swear!”

“I don’t fucking believe you!” he shouts.

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