Page 42 of Speed Trap

Hawk’s groan as his mouth descended on mine was the only answer I needed.

“I’ll see you at home!” Honey yelled as she backed out of the scarred wooden door of the soup kitchen. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” The door closed behind her before I could answer.

I let out a laugh, shaking my head. “Sure, sis.” Clean up was half done and our last few bowls for the night had gone out.

The last stragglers stayed for the heat that filled the small shop front. I couldn't begrudge them the last remnants of warmth as I cleaned up for the night. Finally I closed up, my last chores done as I handed out a few biscuits I had brought from home. I’d started cooking again and it gave me pleasure to know a few extra someones would fall asleep with a full stomach.

“Thank you, Miss Sunny.” Gray Bob held out his empty bowl. The chipped plastic trembled in his grip.

I took it with a smile. I’d fast become a favorite with the regulars of the neighborhood.

“I’m sorry I don’t have more,” I apologized, helping him to the door. I was sorry I didn’t have a place for them all to sleep. Maybe that could be the next stage of Honey’s plan.

“It’s more than enough for my bones. You stay safe, Miss Sunny,” Bob croaked as he gave me a small wave and tottered off into the night.

I wondered if he would speak to another soul before he returned tomorrow night.

“I’m almost done,” I said into my phone as I closed the front door and locked it. “Back’s open. Come through when you’re ready. I’ll be twenty minutes, so don’t rush.”

“Be safe,” Hawk said softly on the other end of the line. “I’ll be there soon.” His voice was slightly rough, and I knew exactly what that meant for the rest of my night.

A shiver ran down my spine as I ended the call, unable to stop the smile spreading over my face. I turned all the chairs upside down onto the long bench that lined one end of the small room. Bins, or mopping first? I wrinkled my nose at the thought of the bins and opted for that, leaving the mop against the wall.

A door banged at the back as I tied the bags up.

I straightened, swiping my hands on my damp apron. “That was fast. You must be keen tonight.” I wiggled my eyebrows.

The kitchen was silent.

I swallowed, retreating a step to grab the mop where I’d left it and turned to face the back room. “Hawk?”

A shadow stepped out of the back room, his bulk too different to be anyone I expected.

“We’re closed.” I gripped the mop tight as the figure advanced. Shadows covered his face, but I peered beneath the hoodie anyway.

“You’re right. You do smell filthy. But what more would I expect when you have sullied yourself with him?” Benson’s hatred filled voice slammed into my chest, shock knocking the air from my lungs.

I didn’t hesitate as I swung the mop at full extension with all my strength.

It was a mistake.

Benson slashed one arm out, catching the mop head with an easy that left my stomach somewhere on the dirty soup kitchen floor. He yanked mop from my grasp as he closed the distance between us.

I swiveled on my heel, aiming for the front door, but a second behemoth stepped in front of me. Breath sawed in my chest as I screamed at the figure lunging toward me.

Hands coiled in my hair from behind, yanking me backward, away from the doorway. Away from the street and its bright lights.

Twenty minutes. Why did I say twenty minutes?

Could I last survive long? “What do you want, Benson?” I shrieked the words, kicked and thrashed to a silent room.

“I tried to get you away from him. I tried to make sure you wouldn't end up like the rest of the girls KC throws away, but you didn’t listen.” Benson shook his head as he dragged me from the shop into the darkened, dead end alley behind. “I told you, I told you, Itold you.”

My legs tangled beneath me, flopping and skittering and utterly useless. I fell to my knees but still Benson dragged me along, his not so friendly shadow following along behind.

“Help me,” I croaked, terror stealing my breath, but the shadow said nothing. “Benson, please. I’m— sorry.” I forced the bitter words out, shaped by desperation. “I?—”

“You’re worthless.” Splittle sprayed my cheeks as he threw me against a wall.

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