Page 16 of City of Salvation

His tone didn’t match his words. He’d quit trying to make conversation five minutes ago when it was clear I wasn’t in the chatting mood. Since then, it was as if he was determined to give me whiplash.

God, I wished I knew how to drive.

Another fun control tactic of my father’s. Back when I was younger, I thought nothing of it. Why would I, while I sat in the back of an armored vehicle with a driver who took me to and from events? Now, as I sat in the back of a rideshare vehicle with a man suggesting I could useother forms of payment,I was really regretting not learning.

Dust kicked up as he pulled into the dirt lot they used for parking. I turned my nose up at the windowless rectangular building. The neon light displaying the name only worked on a portion of the sign.

“Pussy. Nice. Sure that wasn’t intentional or anything,” I muttered to myself as I gathered my bag.

“So, um, did you give any thought to my proposal?” the shifty man in the front seat asked, his hands no longer on the wheel of his Ford Focus, but tucked down in his lap.

Why wasn’t there an option to select a female driver if you were a female passenger?

“Yeah, I’m good with paying you cash,” I said, sliding over more than the asshole deserved. He should paymefor dealing with his shitty driving and misogynistic views on women.

He turned in his seat. The greasy hair he’d combed over did nothing to hide his balding, but that wasn’t what made him unattractive. It was the way he peered at me like I was property.Thatshowed what a disgusting piece of shit he was.

“Listen, bitch. Your money isn’t good here.” He pointed a grimy finger my way, a slight tremor in his hand, matching the one in his voice. “You’re about to go in there and whoreyourself out anyway. I want a private show.” The clicking of the door lock was deafening.

What the hell was wrong with men that they thought they could treat women like this?

Without warning, I launched myself forward, biting his finger, hard. Teeth were a great weapon, until the question came up of where the thing you’d put in your mouth had been. His howls filled the small car. It hurt like a bitch when he yanked the digit back out. A coppery tang coated my tongue, and I spit the bits of flesh at him.

Now I’d need to gargle bleach.

“Fucking, bitch.” He moved to hit me but stopped mid-slap when he registered the sharp tip digging into the soft underside of his chin. The asshole wasn’t smart enough to realize it wasn’t a knife I held to his throat. Really, I should’ve kept the gun on me, but I’d been nervous that the club might dig through my bag. No one would bat an eye at some hair-cutting shears.

I need to rethink my stance on carrying weapons.

“Now listen here, you spineless waste of fucking flesh. You’re going to unlock my fucking door right now.” His body shook like a leaf, either in fear or in anger, but he reached behind him and did as he was told. “Good, now turn off the car and hand over your keys and wallet,” I demanded. Confusion flooded his face, but he didn’t argue.

Muggy night air wrapped around me when I pushed the door open. I’d never been so happy to feel Arizona’s heat. The noise from the engine cut out, leaving nothing but the faint thump of music from the club a short distance away. I snatched the keys, tossing them toward the farthest corner from him. I didn’t want him to try hitting me with his car when I got out. This would at least buy me a few moments to reach the bouncer.

My adrenaline was waning, but I kept my mask of confidence on.

“Johnathan Carter. 1456 Quincy Rd.” I looked up from his driver’s license, flashing him a cruel smile. “I’m going to get out of this car now, Johnny, and you are going to drive yourself home. Delete your rideshare app, and be on your best fucking behavior, because Iwillbe sending someone to check in on you.”

I dug the tip of the scissors in deeper when he scoffed, whispering menacingly. “La Brujita doesn’t take kindly to men assaulting women in her city.” All color drained from his face. Most predators knew her name. She was their Boogeyman, after all. “Good boy,” I said, shoving the wallet in my bag. I practically leaped out of the car. His hiss told me I’d nicked him when I pulled away.

There were a handful of other cars and an entire line of bikes. I practically ran to the large bouncer at the front, his barrel stomach sticking out so far I couldn’t see part of his waistband. He looked me up and down before glancing behind me.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah, just creeps, ya know.” I cleared my throat, internally sighing with relief when his attention didn’t hold any real suspicion. “I’m hoping I can go up tonight. Just passing through and want to make a little extra money,” I said, hiking my bag up higher on my shoulder, glancing to see if Johnny had left.

The doorman grunted, pulling the solid door open and ushering me inside. “Go to the bar. Ask for Bianca.”

I tipped my head in thanks before scurrying inside. It was as if I’d been transported back to the seventies—faux wood paneling covered every surface, including the bar front. Neon beer signs hung on every available free space. Theplace was already pretty packed even though it was only nine.

“Is Bianca here?” I asked when I reached the bar tucked along the back.

The bartender gave me an irritated look before tilting her head toward the other end, where a woman with black braided pigtails was popping the tops off drinks.

Not bothering to mutter a thanks, I moved.

“You Bianca?”

The woman cocked an eyebrow, looking me up and down, taking in my fishnets, shorts, and the velour jacket I had zipped up to my chin. “Who’s asking?” She propped a hand on her hip.

---