One second I’m smelling what I’m pretty sure is someone else’s stomach contents on the ground, and the next, I’m flying through the air. I’m only a little disoriented when my feet hit the ground and I’m right-side up.

“What just happened?” I whisper, my tone way too high for a normal human. A half-second later I realize I’m standing because he lifted me to my feet as easily as if I were just a piece of paper.

“Get your dog and let’s go.” He has his hand on the back door under a glowing exit sign, holding it shut. If I weren’t so scared for my life, I’d be impressed with his chivalry. He probably could have been a mile gone from here if all he’d been worried about was his own hide.

My entire body, including my voice, is shaking. “Come here, Felix. Get in the bag.”

Felix is barking at everyone and everything, real or imagined. His entire body is bouncing up and down with angry energy. “Get over here, Felix! We have to go!” When I finally get my hands on him, I’m almost impressed with how much his outrage is completely possessing him; he’s humming like a recently twanged guitar string. I’m already moving, even before I have Felix situated. That beard guy is right; my sister’s not in that bar. Why did I think she was? Maybe she’s drinking at home and drunk-texting me. I’m going to kill her.

“Come on, Fee, get in. Stop messing around.” I shove Felix into my bag headfirst and close it with my arm against my ribs. “Time to get the hell outta here.” And leave this gangster behind. As I start fast-walking to the end of the alley, I’m once again grabbed by the elbow.

“What?!” I yell, spinning to face the man-beast who obviously doesn’t believe in personal hygiene or basic manners. “What now?!” My heart is hammering away in my chest as my gaze darts between the door and my captor. I know that lunatic with the gun is going to reach that door any second, and I don’t want to be hanging around here in the alley when he comes out.

“You can’t go that way—they’ll be waiting for you. Follow me.”

I feel just the tiniest bit sorry that I was having bad thoughts about him, since he’s obviously trying to help me out. But when he takes off at a jog, leaving me standing there, my guilt disappears. So much for chivalry. He doesn’t even look back to see if I’m following, the jerk.

My feet start moving of their own volition. “Who’s they? Why are they waiting for me?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns a corner several yards ahead, leaving me alone in the garbage-strewn, vomit-y alley. When I look in the opposite direction toward the street where my car is waiting, I swear I can see the outline of a bad man with a gun, so I take off running after the guy with the horrible beard, praying I’m not going to regret this decision as much as I regret coming to a rescue that was never needed in the first place.

CHAPTER THREE

After I catch up to the bearded gangster, he leaves me shaking in the shadows of a dumpster four streets over, promising to return. Felix isn’t concerned anymore. He wanders around my feet, leaving p-mail for any dog who might come by in the next few days, while I text my drunk-ass sister and slowly get my respirations back to a normal rate. I can only imagine what his messages say. Something like: “Dude, you would not believe what happened to me tonight!” I know I’m pretty much shell-shocked over the whole thing and I’m not even a Chihuahua mix. I hunker down where no one will see me and keep a sharp ear out for footsteps. The only thing I can hear are my own heartbeats for a while, going like crazy, but then there are sirens too, and it’s like music to my ears when I realize they’re coming from the area by the bar.

I pray my sister is okay. I didn’t see her or the kids, so that gives me some measure of comfort. She hasn’t answered any of my latest texts, though. I check the screen again just to be sure. All the messages showing are still from me. No more of her crazy messages are coming anymore. She must have passed out on her couch. It’s so unlike her to do anything like this. I need to get to her place as soon as possible and make sure everyone is okay.

W here are you?

Ar e you safe?

I ho pe you’re not in that bar.

I’m go ing to kill you for dragging me out here.

Pleas e text me back. I’m getting worried.

The big fancy truck from the same lot where I parked earlier pulls up to the curb, and its interior cab lights come on, revealing the bearded beast inside. Color me a little surprised that the grossest guy in the place has the most expensive ride. My phone beeps, alerting me to a received text message. As I bend over to retrieve Felix, I read it.

Jen: We’ve been made. Don’t go back. Meet up at the next drop point in thirty.

I’m staring at the screen as I stop at the passenger door. It opens from the inside, and I look up to see my rescuer’s face.

“Get in,” he says. He glances down at his phone as he waits for me to comply.

“Uhhh, no thanks.” I look over my shoulder. The dark cover of the dumpster is looking pretty good right now.

“You can’t stay out here where you could be seen by someone driving by.”

“But I should get into a car with a gangster drug dealer who’s probably going to kill me and dump my body in the Mississippi River?”

He hisses out a sigh of annoyance. “I’m not a drug dealer or a gangster. Come on—stop messing around. I don’t want to be seen here.”

“Because you’re a drug dealer.”

His voice carries exaggerated patience. “No, because drug dealers will see me on their turf and probably not like it too much.”

I look around me, new fear rushing into my body, making it feel like something is trying to suffocate me. “This is a drug dealer’s turf?”

He gestures out the window. “Look around. What do you think?”

Random people on the street corners, drinking out of paper bags. Groups of men standing around looking at us. Yeah. Not good. I bite my lip as I consider my options. I could call the police and then wait around for who knows how long to be picked up—hours if my past experience is any measure—and in the meantime be a sitting duck. I could get in the car with this guy and maybe get raped and pillaged and then even murdered. What other choices do I have left? There are no businesses I’d consider safe nearby, and no way do I want to start walking the street. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place.

“I’ll take my chances,” I say, holding Felix more firmly under my arm.

The guy lifts up a butt cheek. “Here. Take a look at this.”

I back away, sure I’m about to see the wrong end of a gun.

Instead he pulls out a wallet. From that wallet he takes a card and hands it to me.

I read the writing on the front of the white business card. There’s just a company name and address on it, no name: “Bourbon Street Boys Security.” Looking up at him, I squint my eyes. “Are you trying to tell me you’re a good guy?”

“That’s it. Now get in.”

Holding the card out, I take a picture of it and type out an email to myself, attaching the photo.

“Okay, Mister Bourbon Street Boy person, I have just sent an email with your business address to my sister and myself, so if anything happens to me, you will be held responsible.”