Chapter 23
She did work late that night, until past ten o’clock. The regular lot she used near her apartment was full at this time of night, but she sometimes used a ground level lot a few blocks away. As she walked toward her apartment, she went over the day, over the options Claire had given her, and tried to think logically about what she wanted to do now. She could quit, of course, but that would mean going back to England. She could look for another job here, but there was no time. Once her sponsorship from the Rosette was over, she would have to leave.
And then there was... whatever Kane might do. He was enough of a gentleman to offer marriage just to help her out. She winced; she meant what she’d said to her mother. Whatever her future held, it sure the hell didn’t include a pity wedding.
She was so preoccupied, she didn’t notice the two men coming up from behind until they spoke to her.
“Ellen,” one said.
She spun around, thinking they were journalists, but one glance showed her they weren’t. One was larger and stockier than the other, in a tight, hooded tracksuit with dirt patches on the knees and down the front. The smaller man had a broken nose and tiny blue eyes. Both men were filthy dirty, their white skin dark with it. They came very close to her. Ellen instinctively backed up, but hit the wall of the office building behind her.
This could not be what it was. She had worried and planned and trained for this moment for four years, but she had let down her guard over the past few weeks. One key was sticking out between her knuckles, but her pepper spray was in her purse. And now her mind was a complete blank. She couldn’t run, or scream, or even feel her hands in her pockets.
“Henry Tennant says hello,” said the big man. His cheeks were pouchy and pushed the corners of his mouth closer, like a line between two parentheses. Great, Ellen, that’s a really handy observation. She should be focusing on the fact that these men had been sent by the man who wanted to ruin Kane.
“What do you want?” she said. Her voice was cold and clipped, the voice she’d used around men for years before Kane came.
“We’ll take the purse,” the small man said, and smiled at her. He had perfect white teeth, a little too large for his face, but still weirdly perfect. “Figure you’re not short of money now you’re around Kane Fielding.”
He had to move closer to her before Ellen could stop thinking about his teeth and react. If she could remember only one thing from her self-defense classes, it was that a bag of money wasn’t worth fighting over. She let the purse fall off her shoulder to the ground, taking her hand out of her pocket to do so. Her hand was still hidden in the folds of her coat, but now she could feel the chill of the key against her knuckles, and got some kind of strength from it.
When she went to step away from the bag, the larger man told her not to move and came right up to her, grinning as he swept down her body to crouch and pick up the bag. Her coat was open and the night was cold, but not as cold as the swirl of fear that started in her stomach when she looked down at him. He was at eye-level with her knees, and the curves of her ankles and calves. His hand shot out suddenly and clasped one leg, getting a good feel before she jumped away.
Meanwhile, the other man had been watching her. “You were in the paper today.”
“So?” she managed. She was beginning to shiver now, with the cold and the fear. They were supposed to go away when she gave them her purse, not stand on each side of her, blocking the way to her apartment and her car.
He looked over at his friend. “Scamming the system. Got no visa, or something.” His eyes went back to her. “Fucking foreigners. Even the ones that talk nice are taking our jobs.”
Ellen closed her mouth tight, her breath coming fast and labored through her nose. Make them go away, she prayed.
“Fielding’s lost it,” the small man continued, flashing those beautiful teeth at her. “No business left to run, I heard.”
She might throw up if he put his face any closer. “I also heard,” he said, his voice lowering, “that you’ve been putting out for him like a frickin’ whore. Got any left over for a coupla regular guys?”
Somewhere behind her terror, Ellen noted that he said, “Haa” for “whore.” Her linguistics professor would have lunged for a tape recorder.
The large man was to one side of her; she couldn’t keep him in her view without turning her head, and if she did that, she would touch the other. “Henry just told us to—” the large man said.
“And we did what Henry asked,” the small one reminded him. “This is just between us.” His smile turned hungry. “Isn’t it, bitch?”
Some spittle from the word hit her, and she flinched.
“’Sides,” the small one continued, “Tennant wants to get back at Fielding, don’t he? I don’t reckon he’ll be too bothered how we did it. “
“Okay, then me next,” the large man said. He was closer to her than she’d thought. She didn’t have room to swing her hand, and the realization of this almost buckled her knees. It was only her determination not to touch the small man that kept her rigid.
He wasn’t tall enough to be a threat, but the other man was, and his words, and the sinister way he gave that perfect smile, had her shaking. Suddenly he jerked his face so close to her his nose touched her cheek. She gasped and tried to step back again but couldn’t; the rough cement wall behind her caught her hair and her coat.
Both men could now turn in front of her. The smaller one pushed against her, planting his mouth on hers. Ellen made a noise in her throat and twisted her face away as violently as she could, but the other man’s face was right next to her. She screamed in his face, making his ears ring, so at least he backed off a little, but the small man’s body was still jammed against hers, his hands going under her coat.
The tried and true method finally came back to her. When he went to nudge her legs open, whispering obscenities at her while he tugged her shirt out of her skirt, she brought her knee up so fast his eyes almost fell out of his head. She felt the kick pleat in the back of her skirt rip. He fell back, coughing and swearing. Ellen tried to run past him, but a huge hand came from beside her and punched her on the side of her head, sending her flying to the ground.
She hit the ground and skidded a short distance on her side, her coat useless as it bunched up around her. Her right leg and forearm were exposed to the sidewalk, which had recently been gritted for the winter weather. Her skin felt as if it had caught on fire.
For a second she lay there, pain darting around behind her eyes, her knuckles scratched and bleeding from the keys still in her hand. When she opened her eyes it was to see the larger man kneeling next to her, working on his belt. “Get away from me,” she whispered through the darts.
“I’m gonna fucking kill her!” the small man was shouting from his prostrate position a few feet away. “I’m gonna fucking do to her what she did to me!”
