It was so different here. She sighed and took in a deep breath of the thick air. She could see the soft white of the breakers over the sandbar just offshore and the blinking lights of ships coming into the port. A green and red path lined the navigation channel to her north, and right now a cruise ship was making its stately way in, riding across the waves like a well-lit castle. Here there were so many different kinds of people, and attitudes. You don’t like the culture? Wait five minutes, was a local saying. It was a mixture of Caribbean and South American, native and immigrant, exotic and bedrock Old South.

She could, in a drive of an hour, visit a western rodeo, an Indian reservation, Little Havana, Little Haiti, Old Florida, or the glittery vista of Miami Beach.

So different, so much more open and accepting than the closed world she’d grown up in.

Her fingers played idly with the rough wood, rubbing large grains of sand between them as the salt air left a perceptibly dry feel on her skin. She stared between her feet, leaning over and picking up a brown and white speckled shell, perfectly shaped, which sat in the palm of her hand, its gently ridged surface rippling under her fingertips.

Maybe she could find another job. If she did it quickly, she could say it was intentional, and by the time her parents figured out what had happened, it would be over with, and she’d be settled into a new position. Who knew?

Maybe she’d find something even better than what she had. Robert would give her an excellent recommendation, and Susan had mentioned a recruiter, one she really liked.

But first she had to get through Monday, and she held no illusions that little Ms. Cruella de Bitch would help them out in any way. They’d probably find the goon squad there again in the morning, making sure they didn’t steal the pencils on their way out.

Remembering her friends’ optimistic voices was a very lonely feeling. She hoped they’d forgive her for raising their hopes and not being able to deliver what she’d promised herself she would. That final plan would have worked too.

Yes, there were cuts, fifty-one people in fact. But one hundred and seventy two would have been kept, and been productive. She’d made sacrifices everywhere, including training, office furniture, benefits and prospective raises, the new phone switch they’d been planning, and the subsidizing of the snack machines. It would have been tight, and not as comfortable as it had been, but…

But.

Kerry threw the shell into the wind, watching as it dropped into the thick, cream-colored sand. All for nothing. She walked to the water’s edge, letting the lapping tide darken the toes of her shoes and stared out at the uncaring 50 Melissa Good Atlantic until a large, fat raindrop struck her arm. With a sigh, she turned and made her way back to the car, the scent of rain hitting the sun-warmed pavement rising around her as she reached it.

She was all the way across the causeway and had picked up the highway before she glanced down and spotted her gas gauge. A soft curse emerged as the red light winked at her implacably, and she looked around for the nearest exit. “Damn.”

Northeast 2nd Street was the closest choice, and she headed down the ramp, turning left as she got to the light and moving down the quiet, back streets on the verge of the city. She had to stop at the next light, and the engine sputtered. She glanced around, then headed through the light as it turned green, but it sputtered again, then died, and she wrestled the car over to the side of the road as she lost power steering.

“Just my day.” She sighed and let her head rest against the wheel, listening to the rain drum down on the convertible roof. Outside, dark forms ran to take cover in the overhung doorways of the silent buildings, their occupants gone home for the day. To her right loomed the highway, and she could hear cars rushing by, leaving the city proper to its transient nighttime denizens.

She considered where she was, and realized there were no gas stations within several miles of her. Even those closest would mean a walk through the rain across the tracks, or through downtown, not the best of choices for a young woman alone at night.

Another thought hit her. She’d left the office without her briefcase, which meant she didn’t have her wallet, any identification, or her credit and ATM

cards. She dug through her change tray and discovered she had exactly three dollars and sixteen cents, sufficient for enough gas to get her back to the office, but not enough for a cab to get to the gas, and her Filofax with numbers for everything, including AAA, was sitting on her desk.

She let out a breath, then dug out her cell phone. A quick try to Colleen’s house went unanswered, and the two or three she knew from memory of her work colleagues did the same. Of course. It was Friday night. They were all out.

She looked at the phone in disgust, then realized a piece of paper was stuck to the clip in the back. She pulled it out and stared at the number written on it, then let it fall to the seat beside her. She drummed her fingers on the console, then leaned forward and peered through the rain, to where several of the dark figures were standing, seemingly watching her.

Her eyes went to the piece of paper again, and she picked it up. “Well, that bitch owes me a phone call to the auto club, at least,” she muttered, then dialed the number. “I’ll call her stooge and have him send over a couple of gallons of gas.”

It rang four times, and she almost hung up before the ringing stopped, and a crackle indicated an open line.

“Hello.” The quiet voice was almost unrecognizable.

Kerry hesitated, startled, and then cleared her throat. Oh damn. Doesn’t it just figure this is her blasted number? “Hi…um, never mind.” Unable to go through with asking for help from a woman she’d just told off an hour and a Tropical Storm 51

half ago, she hung up.

The rain drummed harder, and she almost missed the soft sound of her phone ringing. Surprised, she glanced down at it, then pressed the talk key.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Stuart?” Dar’s voice was more familiar now, and held a cool, questioning tone. “Is there something you wanted?”

Well, Kerry sighed, a t least she’s not telling me off. “This is kind of stupid, and I…well, I didn’t know this was your phone, really. I was just looking for someone to make a call for me. I’m…I don’t have my phone book with me.” It felt very awkward.

Momentary silence from the other end. “So, what’s the number?”

Kerry hesitated. “Well, I don’t…I don’t know, is the problem. I’m kind of stuck, and I need the auto club.” She bit the bullet and went on. “Look, I ran out of gas, and I just need them to bring me a few gallons so I can get back to the office.”

“Oh.” Dar seemed to consider this. “Where are you?” Kerry told her.

“That’s not a good area,” the executive commented.

“I know,” Kerry answered. “It’s pretty creepy right now.” She paused.

“Thank you for not hanging up on me.”

Another long silence. “Until I process my work list on Monday, you’re still an employee of mine. You used my company cell phone. Something happens to you now, and you’ve got grounds for a pretty big lawsuit.”

Kerry was at a loss for words. “Wh-why would you assume I’d do that?”

“You assume the worst of me, I figure I should return the compliment,”

Dar replied. “Hold on, I’m getting the number.” The sound of a second phone was barely audible in the background.

Kerry was too tired to be angry. “All right. Well, thank you for making the call for me,” she answered softly. A motion caught her eye, and she glanced out of the windshield, which was fogging a little from her breath.

“Um.” The group of shadowy forms had switched doorways, and were now just opposite her. “Maybe you better call the police instead.”

“Why?” Dar’s voice sharpened.

“Oh…my god!” Kerry ducked as the bat hit the glass of the passenger-side window, scattering shards over her body. Hands reached and grabbed her, and the cell phone was torn from her grasp. She twisted, hearing Hispanic curses, and gasped as fingers gripped her upper arm, dragging her toward the shattered window. Her shirt ripped, and she felt rain against the bare skin of her chest, then cruel fingers grabbed her bra strap and yanked it.

A hand entangled itself in her hair and pulled sharply, and she was forced to let go of the steering wheel she’d had a death grip on. Water was now pelting in the open window and she could smell dirt, and alcohol, and old, stale garlic.

The roar of the rain grew louder, and she fought against the hands, her body scraping over broken glass as flashes of lightning suddenly lit up the scene. She heard a crunch, then a scream, and one grip loosened. She twisted hard against the other, and heard an odd cracking noise, then the hands were gone, and she was panting in terror, curling up in a ball in the front seat and covering her head with her arms.


52 Melissa Good A light hit her closed eyes, and she heard the lock work on her passenger side door. A gust of wind and rain blew in as it opened, and she huddled down further in the seat, biting her lip hard and tasting blood inside her mouth. Then there was a hand on her arm. Gentle, not grasping.

“Hey.”

Kerry felt a shock course through her, and she lifted her head, opening her eyes to see pale blue ones gazing back at her, outlined in the light of a powerful hand lamp. “Oh. It’s you.”

Dar blinked, and removed her hand. “Yes, it is.”

“Where…” Kerry glanced around fearfully, searching for her attackers.

“Where did they…”

“They’re gone,” Dar replied quietly. “Maybe they didn’t like getting wet.” Kerry let out a shuddering breath. “Oh my god.” She slowly uncurled and picked up a piece of the shattered glass, then let it drop. “Perfect end to a perfect day,” she murmured softly, exhausted. “But thank you…for coming along and scaring them off.”

Dar flexed a hand out of Kerry’s line of sight, wincing at the soreness.

“No problem.” She glanced up at the weather, then at the slumped form across from her. There was glass everywhere, and she could see a lot of scraped skin where Kerry’s shirt was ripped open. “You all right?”

Kerry looked up from her shaking hands and their eyes met briefly.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “That was just an amazingly sucky thing to have happened.”

Dar’s lips pressed thinly together. “All right, come on over and get in my car. I’ll call the cops.” She waited for Kerry to open her mouth to protest, and put a hand up when she did. “Look, I’ll just wait for them to get here, then I’ll be out of your sight. I know I’m not your favorite person right now.”

“Don’t.” Kerry put a hand on her arm. “Please don’t call the police.” She raked shaking fingers through her damp hair. “I have a friend who can fix this. I don’t want reports and all that.”

Dar studied the pale fingers curled around her wrist, then lifted her eyes to Kerry’s face in mild puzzlement. “All right.” She gazed at the smaller woman. “You need to get those cuts taken care of, though.”

Kerry gazed down at her arms tiredly. “I’ll take care of them.” She self-consciously tugged the shreds of her shirt around her, and looked up at Dar.

“I guess I just need those couple of gallons of gas.”

The tall, dark-haired woman stared pensively at her for a moment, then gave her head a little negative shake. “No. I have a better plan,” she announced. “I’ll get your car towed wherever you want it, and I’ll drive you home.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” the blonde replied softly. “But thank you for offering.”

“You’re not asking, and I’m not offering,” Dar answered. “You need it done, and I’m insisting.” She pulled a cell phone from her back pocket and flipped it on, dialing a number from memory. “John?” she queried, when a voice answered. “It’s Dar. I need a pickup and tow.” After a long pause, she said, “No, not me this time. Northeast 2nd and Flagler. A forest green Tropical Storm 53

Mustang ragtop.” She listened to the query from the other end of the line.

“Hang on.” She glanced at Kerry. “Where do you want it?”

Kerry debated, then surrendered and gave her address, which Dar repeated into the phone carefully. “Tarp the passenger-side window, it’s cracked,” she added, then hung up. “Okay, let’s go.”