Page 8 of Blood Ties

Nick was intently scanning the area as he kept us hidden behind the table. His glass on the table shattered and water went everywhere. He cursed.

“We have to go,” he snapped as he grabbed my hand, then my bag.

I was frozen in place.

“Nivea!” he shouted.

Trembling, I slowly turned to look at him.

“I need you to stay down the best you can and we’re going around the side of the building. Okay?”

Numbly, I nodded.

“Go!” he shouted as he grabbed the edge of the table and tipped it. As I scrambled around the corner of the building, I was vaguely aware that he’d used the umbrella as a screen to hide our movements.

Once he was next to me, he didn’t dawdle. He clutched my hand, and we ran down the alley. I was barely conscious of where we were going, I simply tried to keep up. I slipped on a patch of ice and he grabbed me to keep me upright. We broke out of the other end on a smaller side street and he pulled me along. A black car skidded to a halt and a man in sunglasses got out.

There was another odd pinging and I shrieked as a window next to us exploded.

“Fuck!” Nick grumbled, then we were darting into a dry cleaners and rushing past the counter. The two people working there shouted, but we kept moving. The rapid pounding of feet behind us gave me a boost of adrenaline and I pushed myself and my burning muscles.

In and out of businesses, we raced. It seemed the pounding footsteps were falling further and further behind, but maybe that was wishful thinking.

Finally, we ducked into a small Italian restaurant. Where the back door was marked as an emergency exit, rather than use it, he quickly darted us into the bathroom and locked the door. He ripped a cell phone out of his pocket and made a call.

Trying to suck air into my lungs, I heard him quietly saying something about help and a car and then gave the name of the restaurant. I couldn’t hear much else because of the blood pounding in my head.

He shoved my bag at me that I hugged to my aching chest. He then began pulling things off of a shelf over the toilet and I realized there was a window.

“W-W-What are y-y-y-you doing?” I stuttered through my gasping breaths.

“Trying to get us the hell out of here!” he whisper-yelled as rolls of paper towels and toilet paper went by the wayside.

He unlocked the window and quietly tried to push it open. It wouldn’t budge. I wanted to cry.

Then he whipped out a knife that flew open with a soft click. He slid it along the seam of the panes. Once he’d sliced through the paint, he retracted the blade and tucked it back in his jacket. The glasses went with it.

I watched the muscles bulge under the expensive fabric of his coat and the window creaked before it finally opened. The cold winter wind rushed in. He looked both ways outside, then fiddled with the screen until it came loose, and he tilted it as he brought it inside and set it by the toilet.

“I’ll go out first and I’ll help you down. Okay?” Nick softly instructed.

I simply stood there, shaking.

“Nivea. You have to listen to me. We can’t stay here.”

I rapidly nodded.

He quickly hoisted himself up to the opening, and then carefully crawled out and dropped to the ground below. As I peeked out, I saw it wasn’t too far, but farther than I’d be able to reach.

“I’ve got you,” he reiterated.

First, I passed my bag out to him. Then I used the toilet as a step up. As I stared down at him, I realized I didn’t know this guy.

At all.

“Nivea,” he urged, staring up at me. He glanced both ways down the alleyway.

The bathroom knob rattled and my breath seized. That was followed by a pounding on the wood that shook the entire frame. Fear held me in its relentless grip.

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