Page 3 of Outlaws’ Runaway

“When do you get off work, hot stuff?” asks the guy who pinched me. “We could show you one hell of a good time.”

“Sorry, really long shift today.”

“Got nothing but time,” says the first guy, the older one who started it all. “We'll wait.”

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t think that would be a good idea. I have to—I have other tables to wait on.”

He sneers and waves me away.

Relief put an extra boost to my steps as I practically jog back to the table with the bikers, pulling out my order pad. “Sorry to make you wait. Are you ready to order?”

“Assholes,” growls Crank, glowering over at the other bunch. “You okay?”

I nod. “I will be, except… never mind.”

“Except what?” Savage asks. He might be sitting again, but they’ve all adjusted their chairs so they can see the other table. He shifts, and I see a glint of metal by his waist. Oh God, I don't think he meant to show it, but he's carrying.

Can I trust them? Logic says no, but my gut says that while they might be dangerous, they’re not dangerous to me. Wasn’t I just thinking that I need to learn to go with my instincts? I turn sothey are the only ones that will see or hear me. “It’s just that my shift is over soon, and I’m a little worried they might stick around.”

“You want us to keep an eye out?” Poe asks, sounding almost amused.

“N—never mind,” I stammer. “It’s fine. I’ll just hang around a bit to make sure they clear out. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No,” Poe says, flicking his thick hair out of his face. He's got a narrow scar along the back of his jaw, pale white against his skin. “We'll keep an eye on you. Make sure you get where you’re going in one piece.” The other two nod.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” I hold up my order pad and put the tip of the pen against the paper. “Now, what can I get you guys?”

2

PAIGE

“Later, Sarah,”Ash calls when I’m done with my shift. “See you tomorrow.”

I give him a little wave. “Later!”

I push open the back door and peek outside. There’s nobody around. The drunk bunch left almost an hour ago, and the bikers not too long afterwards in spite of saying they would keep an eye on me. That bothers me more than it should, but now that it’s all over, I feel stupid for being so worried. It’ll be good to finally put enough distance between me and my problems that I can take a breath and make a real plan.

I’m not sure if I’m disappointed that Savage and his friends aren’t here because they said they would protect me, or if I just wanted to see them again. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. It’s not like anything would’ve happened.

Maybe in my dreams, but in the real world I smell like meatloaf and I've been on my feet since this morning and the sun is just starting to set. The door clicks shut behind me and I scan the rear parking lot. There are only two cars, Ash’s beat uptruck, and the bright pink hatchback our dinner waitress Melissa drives.

I hurry across the dimly lit lot, heading for the street. Mike, the head cook and owner, is letting me rent the space over his garage for cheap. It’s not fancy, but there’s an old single bed, a dresser for my stuff, and I can use his laundry room and downstairs bathroom for free as long as I don’t go crazy with electricity or hot water. Best part is that it’s a short walk from the diner so I don’t have to worry about dealing with the almost non-existent bus system. I was half convinced he was some sort of creep, so I barely slept the first couple nights, but now I’m pretty sure he’s just cheap.

I’m doing the mental math on how many days I’ll have to stay here to earn enough before I run again when a hand covers my mouth, an arm goes around my throat, and someone yanks me backwards so hard I almost land right on my butt.

“Gotcha,” hisses a voice I wish I didn't recognize. The older guy from the table of wannabe hunters.

I try to stomp his shin but he dodges, and my attempt to scream goes nowhere, muffled behind his meaty hand. I flail in his grip, trying desperately to throw him off balance, but he’s too strong.

He yanks my back against his chest and holds me tight. “Easy, girl, easy. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Are they here to bring me back? Or did I just have the bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? I’m not sure which is worse, and either way, if he thinks I’m cooperating, he’s got another think coming. Managing to catch his palm between my teeth, I bite with all the strength I have. He roars in pain and the coppery tang of blood floods my tongue. I don't care. I keepbiting until he rips his hand away, leaving a little bit behind that I spit out with a horrified gag.

“You little bitch,” he snarls, distracted enough that finally one of my kicks actually lands.

I drive my heel into his instep, making him hiss. It would be more effective if I wasn’t wearing sneakers, but for just a moment his grip loosens, and I grab the opportunity to pull away before it’s too late. The door to the diner is right there, and I run for it.

But I forgot there are six of them. A fist to the back of my head makes the world go black so suddenly that I go sprawling on the broken asphalt. My head bounces painfully on the ground, and my ears fill with an ocean of buzzing. I scramble, fingernails digging into the pavement as my body keeps trying to crawl away on autopilot. They close in around me, laughing at my terror. I bit my lip when I fell, and the blood I taste isn’t just the old guy’s anymore.

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