Page 6 of Hook

He charmed the pants off me. Literally.

Lance drowned me with compliments and appreciation. He made both big and little gestures. He was interested in my life and what I wanted for my future. In fact, his view for his future sounded nearly identical to mine. Just days after we met I was sure I'd struck gold with him. Lance Toffee was everything I read about in my romance novels, and I felt lucky to have him.

It was all an act.

The problem was by the time I realized he was only playing a part, I was already too far in to get out.

If I could go back in time I'd have never accepted that piece of pie.

The wind howls again and I pull the nearly threadbare hoodie tighter around my body.

I hear the whistles and jeers as I walk by a bar, "Damn baby, I can keep you warm. All night." One of the men says as I try to power through.

When I don't answer, he reaches forward and grabs my arm. I rip away from him, glaring at him as I say, "Keep your fucking hands off me."

His eyes go wide and he lifts his hands in the air in a mock surrender, "No problem sweetheart, I guess the kitty doesn't want to play tonight."

I keep the man in my sight as I continue to walk away from the group of them. The cold I felt seconds ago is gone. Now I feel hot and itchy. Panicked.

He might attack me. He could follow me and try to hurt me.

Picking up my pace, I get to the other side of the street before I make a few turns and wait to make sure I'm not being followed.

How things have changed. A few years ago, I would've laughed off the poor attempt at flirtation. I would have forgotten about him the second I looked away. Now I'm looking over my shoulder, waiting to be attacked. I hate that I'm like this. I hate that Lance has given me this trauma.

I push off the wall I'm leaning on, but before I can take a full step, my head spins and I nearly fall to my knees. Lucky for me the wall isn't far so I fall back and close my eyes to stop the vertigo threatening to take over. My stomach cramps hard and my head pounds.

It's been hours since I've had something to eat, and even longer since I've actually rested.

As much as I don't want to admit it. I need help.

Once I get my head together I turn down the next block and double back the way I came without having to cross paths with the men outside of the bar.

I'm going to the one place I never thought I'd have to go. The shelter.

Tears prick the back of my eyelids the closer I get to what is soon to be my sanctuary. I wish I could call someone for help but I don't have any friends. My family wants nothing to do with me. The shelter is my last option.

Taking a deep breath I turn the corner and see the line for those waiting to get into the shelter for the night. All of them look defeated. There are no smiles here.

The shelter stands in front of me, a large brick building with darkened windows and a line of people snaking around the corner, their faces exhausted and downtrodden.

Just as I get settled in the line I look toward the front to see how long I might have to wait before I can get in.

My heart drops to my feet as I see two men walking out of the shelter. Both of them clearly don't belong. They're dressed in dress pants and suit jackets. Their shirts are probably worth more money than all the money any of the people in line have in their pockets.

It's obvious they're not here for a place to stay. When they start looking out into the line I know exactly what they're here for. Me.

As slowly as I can I back away from the line staying on the side so the other people waiting can block me.

"Hey, watch where you're going bitch!" A woman snaps at me as I bounce against her shoulder.

I put my head down, "I'm sorry. So sorry." I whisper and try to slide by her without making her angrier.

Turning to look over my shoulder one final time, I see the two men staring in my direction and one of them lift their hand to point in my direction.

Shit.

Before thinking up a better plan, I take off in a flat out run. This time, when I bumped into people, I don't bother to say I'm sorry. I need to survive, a few bumps and bruises isn't going to stop me from getting away.