Chapter 4 Shut up bitch

"Shut up, bitch," the man said, pulling keys from his pocket. There was a black car parked in the alley not far away and the lights lit up as he pressed a button on the fob.

No! No no no.

Cora tried to fight. In her head she was fighting tooth and nail. Screaming and flailing and clawing.

But outwardly, she must not have been putting up much of a fight because the brute lifted her slender body with no problem at all. He shoved her in the back of his car, face first into a leather seat. The car door slammed.

He didn't even bother to restrain her. He didn't have to.

She was helpless as he hit the gas, tires screeching. She was tossed against the back of the seat and, when he stopped, she was dumped into the footwell.

Ow!

But no. Pain was good. She blinked and tried to focus on it.

She couldn't let herself pass out. He must have drugged her cranberry juice. Stupid. So freaking stupid! She hadn't let the drink out of her sight. At least she thought she hadn't. But he had taken it from the bartender to hand to her. If he was good at sleight of hand, he could have dosed the drink while passing it.

Tired. So tired. She blinked her heavy eyelids closed. Once. Twice.

The car accelerated fast and the jolt had her eyes shooting open again. Shit! Had she almost fallen asleep?

What the hell was she thinking? If she fell asleep, she was dead. She'd be raped and murdered and all the terrible things her mom had warned her about. It was all happening. First with Paul, and now being drugged and kidnapped, oh gods oh gods-

Stop it! Stop freaking panicking.

She forced her eyes open as wide as they could go and she tried to focus. She'd only sipped about a third of the glass of cranberry juice. She had to try to get out of this. The man was taking her somewhere but they weren't there yet. There was still time.

Rain spattered the windows as the car rolled down the dark streets. They were still in the city. Okay. She had to escape the car the next time it stopped. The man was obviously counting on her being passed out by this point or too incapacitated to try anything.

Probably because you weren't even able to walk on your own back at the club.

But she hadn't been terrified for her life then. Adrenaline surged through her veins, painting her options in stark black and white.

The car turned a corner and her body seemed to flip 360 degrees, everything went so topsy turvy... until she realized she was wedged so tightly in the footwell, she hadn't moved at all, frozen like a rabbit hiding from a wolf.

So maybe her head wasn't perfectly clear. Still, no way she was gonna lay here and accept whatever this guy had planned for her.

When the car next slowed, she exploded into action.

Meaning she sluggishly climbed back up onto the seat and reached for the door handle. Her limbs were concrete. It took her several precious seconds to figure out how to flip the lock, but she pulled the handle right as the car came to a stop.

The door opened and she hurled her body into the night.

"Hey!" she heard the guy shout as she hit the wet pavement. Raindrops smacked her face.

Up. Get up, now, she shouted at herself. Instead she lay there dazed. The city swirled around her, towering skyscrapers stretching into the endless night. She was small as a raindrop, a wet splat on the blacktop...

Feet hit the ground as the driver side door opened and her kidnapper got out.

She dragged herself off the ground, using her door for leverage. She spared only the quickest, frantic glance around. They were stopped at a red light. Rain beat down on the empty sidewalks. Everywhere she looked, shops were dark and silent.

But far ahead down the sidewalk off to her right, one door was illuminated. Light. Light meant people. People who could help her. Or if nothing else, it meant a place to hide.

She ran towards the light. The world narrowed to a dark tunnel, her hope shrinking to the size of the cone of rain-washed light. She ran, bare feet smacking cold puddles. Her heels had fallen off somewhere along the way, thank the Fates. She was much steadier without them. The rain biting at her cheeks sharpened her focus. She ran, adrenaline powering her forward, the man's shouts chasing, but not catching up. Yet.

She tumbled down the steps that cut below street level and slammed into the door. The man's shouts were closer than ever. He was almost on top of her. She yanked at the door handle, managed to drag it open, and rushed inside.

Her refuge was a bar or club of some sort, probably private, judging from the subdued lighting and mahogany wood that filled the place with shadows. Dimly she could make out an empty bar and booths lit by small lamps.

Crap, why was she standing here taking in the décor? Her kidnapper would be on her any second. Trying to quiet her breathing, she slipped towards the wall on her left, hugging the shadows and dripping as she went. She passed a doorman's stool and a coat room. Where was the bouncer? If this was a private club, would they kick her out?

She looked down at herself. Her little black dress was smeared with mud from the street and she was sure her face didn't look much better.

But she was thinking more clearly. Finally. So there was that.

And there wasn't a bouncer that she could see. When she paused and listened hard, all she heard was the pounding of her heart, and a few subdued voices in the back. The place was closed for the night, or very, very exclusive. If she moved quietly enough she might be able to find a back door and leave unnoticed.

Her plan held for a few seconds, but the door behind her burst open, slamming into the wall with a loud bang. No! She bit back a scream, cringing in the shadows. The arrival of her pursuer caught more than her attention, though.

From the far left came a shout. The bouncer, finally making an appearance.

"Hey, man, you can't come in here."

Cora blindly felt along the wall until she nearly fell into a corridor. She waited a moment, listening.

"I was with my girl-I need to see if she came in here . . ."

Scared as she was, everything in Cora protested: I'm not his girl; I'd never met him before tonight. The bouncer was also arguing with him, telling him the place was private.

"If you remain here, Mr. Ubeli ain't gonna be happy with you." The man's voice was unnaturally deep, and Cora imagined he was a huge man, a brute in a suit. "You need to leave."

"No, I'm telling you, she ran this way . . ."

The seconds ticked by, and Cora realized that her pursuer wasn't going to leave.

Thumping footsteps, a shout- "Hey, you can't go in there!"

Cora backed deeper into the hallway. She turned and grabbed the closest door knob she could find. Locked. Frantic, she moved down to the next one. The voices were getting closer.

The door opened. Blindly, she rushed through and closed it, cutting off the shouts.

Inside the light was subdued, the room a long dim expanse filled with as many shadows as the club. Cora stood with her back to the door, and gasped as soon as her eyes adjusted to the light.

In front of her, beyond an expanse of rich red carpet, was a desk.

Behind the desk was a man.

She froze. Her sluggish mind turned to this new problem. The man wore a suit tailored to broad shoulders. His head was bent, his dark hair gleaming, as he worked by desk light in the long, dark room.

He looked important. Interrupting this man with his imposing office in a very private club would probably only lead to trouble. Still, anything was better than the situation she'd escaped. Right?

She stood, barely daring to breathe, water dripping from her hem onto the beautiful rug. For a second Cora thought that the man hadn't seen her, he was so absorbed in the papers in front of him. In a fluid movement, though, he raised his head and looked straight at her the next moment.