Page 4 of Retribution
“A ginger ale with extra ice.”
“Don’t you want a shot of something in it?” one of the idiots asked her.
She glanced over her shoulder and plastered another fake smile on her face. “Not now, but I’ll get one next time.”
“Here you go,” the bartender said, putting the drink in front of her.
She took a long gulp, savoring the cool freshness as it slid down her parched throat. The bubbles from the carbonation tickled her nose and she rubbed it.
“How much do I owe you?” she asked.
“We got this, babe.” The driver lifted his chin. “Put it on our tab, Lance.”
The bar man grinned. “Sure. Have a good time, guys.”
Dakota drained the glass and pushed away from the counter. “Which way is the little girl’s room?”
“Oh, back there, doll-face. Don’t worry, we’ll hold down the fort while you touch up your makeup. Tucker just texted; he’ll be here in a few. You want to look real good for him.” The driver laughed and smacked her butt while golden retriever boy guffawed.
“I’ll be back,” she mumbled and then scurried to the bathroom. The whole way there she sensed their eyes on her behind.Ugh, disgusting. I’ve got to get away from them.Snippets from her past flashed through her mind, bombarding her thoughts with possible scenarios that could happen if she didn’t get the hell out of there. Panic skittered over her, leaving her skin clammy and her temples pounding.What am I going to do?The way the assholes had talked to the bartender behind the bar, it seemed like this dump was a frequent stop for them. So there probably wouldn’t be a lot of luck in enlisting the aid from the bartender, and the patrons in the bar didn’t look like they’d raise one finger to help her. Once again, she was on her own.
Inside the windowless, dirty restroom, Dakota went through her bag, hoping an answer would materialize, out of nowhere. She still had her pocketknife, which she slipped into the front pocket of her jeans. That was a last resort, but one she wouldn’t hesitate to throw into the mix.
Unlike the last time.
Thatwould never happen again. Ever.
Dakota ran both hands through her hair and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked kind of crazed and a little bit manic. She closed her lids and blew out a short breath and then a series of longer, more measured ones as if she could yoga breathe her way out of this harsh, new nightmare she’d found herself in right now.
All the exits were in perfect line of sight from their damn table, and she doubted she could make a run for it without one or both of those jerks catching her. Considering her shitty luck for the most part, she’d probably run smack into this Tucker guy they kept yapping about.
“This day just keeps getting better and better for you, doesn’t it?” Dakota threw her stuff back in the bag and zipped it up, doing a quick knife check for accessibility and reaction time.
With no solid plan still in the works, Dakota glanced at the door and her breath hitched. There was no way she would put it past either of those idiots to barge into the women’s restroom to find her. Icy-cold shivers ran up and down her spine. She had to get out of there fast before one or both of them came in and trapped her. Swallowing, she gathered the tattered edges of her courage and pushed the door open, then stepped into the tiny hallway that led back into the bar area.
“Sugar, you were gone an awfully long time. What did you do, fall in?” Golden retriever barked out a laugh as he cornered her, an empty cup clutched in one hand. “We were worried about you.”
His fake concern was overridden by his sloppy alcohol breath and the fact that he kept pressing forward until her back was against one of the graffiti-covered walls. Dakota’s heart drummed an erratic beat as fear pounded through her veins. No doubt, this was one of the worst case scenarios. She didn’t take her eyes off him as her shaky fingers tried to slide down to where she kept the pocketknife.
“So you’re playing hard to get. I like that—it makes it more fun.” He took another short step forward until she barely had any breathing room and every inch of him was pressed up against her from the tips of her toes to her head. “Did you like the drink? It should be kicking in by now.”
Dakota calculated ways to take him down. There weren’t any.
“I didn’t drink it, asshole.”
“Yeah, you did—at the bar.” He laughed dryly.
Nausea swept through her in a rush. Hot tingles charged down her skin followed by a cold sweat that left her head spinning. All at once, she couldn’t tell up from down anymore. A dull roar of panic silenced all her other thoughts as his hands fell on her body, clamping on her arm that was moving toward the pocket with the knife.
Dakota jerked back on impulse—but there was nowhere to go from there. She couldn’t utter a sound. Her whole body became paralyzed with old fear roaring back to the surface as heat swam up behind her shut eyelids and she froze under the weight of him.
“That’s it, you want to be compliant for me, don’t you?” he whispered, his breath hot and rancid against her ear. “You’re a good little slut. Relax into me … uh-huh … that’s it.”
Before she could do or say anything else, his other hand moved up under her shirt as his lips sloppily eased down the column of her throat.
Her “no” died away to nothing as her future went on a collision course with her past.
