Lord Have Mercy (The Southern Gentleman #2)(23)

Making my way past the women still waiting in line, I pushed through the door and moved into the shadows, snugging up against the chain-link fence that ran along the back of the bathrooms.

The chain-link fence separated the parking lot from the field so that you couldn’t sneak in without paying first. Not that it was all that expensive to get in. Three dollars for students and faculty, seven for adults, and one dollar for senior citizens. Really, the school made their killing off of the concession stand.

I mean, who would pay seven dollars for a plate of crappy bulk-sized tortilla chips and a large helping of crappy yellow cheese?

Well, the old me would have. I’d been a freakin’ sucker for the good stuff.

Now? The new me? I had a will of steel.

That was why I was forcing myself to ignore the craving.

Oh, and I’d also left my wallet in the car. I wouldn’t be tempted to be bad!

Though, having Flint there to watch my every move—or potentially watching my every move—was enough encouragement to contain my wants and desires.

“Why are you standing in the shadows?”

I jumped nearly a foot and whirled, heart pounding somewhere in the vicinity of my throat, and stared at the man I’d just been thinking about.

He was leaning against the fence almost casually, almost as if he’d been hiding himself.

“Nivea’s in the bathroom and I want to avoid her at all costs,” I admitted, leaning against the fence with one shoulder. “But I don’t want to leave completely because Raleigh’s in there washing her son off with wipes.”

“Why is she washing her son off with wipes?” he questioned.

“He smells,” I told him honestly. “Apparently he had a blowout in the locker room, and Ezra cleaned him up as best as he could—which happened to be with some old socks or something.”

Flint chuckled low, and I’d wished I could see his face.

The shadows were too deep where we were standing, though.

“Why are you in the shadows?” I questioned.

He shrugged, causing the chain-link fence to clink. “People will do stupid stuff when they think nobody is watching,” he said. “I’m just chilling here, making sure that nothing unsavory happens over here where the kids think nobody is watching.”

I scooted closer when the women’s bathroom door kicked open, nearly taking my head off in the process with the doorstop that kept it from hitting the wall and breaking.

“Jesus,” I hissed. “That nearly took out my eye.”

That was about when I realized his hand was around my waist, and I was breathing heavier.

“I’m fairly sure that doorstop is at my forehead level, and I have at least eight inches on you,” he said. “What are you, five foot three at most?”

When I was in heels.

When I wasn’t, I was five foot one.

“Sure,” I shrugged.

His low chuckle led me to believe that he was more than aware that I’d just lied.

A wet tongue licked my hand, and my good mood vanished. It was replaced with a nightmare.

***

I was doing my homework on the living room floor while my parents watched the latest episode of Dateline. Vaguely I recalled the show featuring a set of serial killers with similar motives, and how at first the two were mistaken for the same killer.

I was trying to listen as well as do my geometry homework when a low scrape at the front door had me glancing up.

The moment my eyes hit the newly painted wood door, it exploded.

Shards of wood and blue paint went flying as a puff of smoke filled the room.

Black shapes filed in through the small opening, and I panicked.

My parents were scared to stillness in their recliners, both of them staring openmouthed at the black-clad men that were yelling and screaming for us to put our hands in the air.

I, on the other hand, only reacted.

Acting on instinct, I started to scream and dashed through the living room toward my bedroom—my safe place—the place where nobody but me was ever allowed.

And, before I could even make it past the entrance to the hallway, I was taken down.

Pain exploded through my leg, and soon something sharper and even more painful sank into my arm.

It was only when I was kicking and screaming, struggling and wailing, that it finally occurred to me that a dog was on top of me, snarling and snapping, using me as a chew toy.

Everybody was yelling, but I could only focus on the pain.

It hurt.

Oh God, did it hurt.

Every time I moved or twitched, the dog would clamp his mouth down even harder.

But I couldn’t stop myself from trying to yank away.

My skin was torn, and I could feel the blood leaking all over the place.

My entire body was slick with it, and even though I could hear someone yelling at me to remain still, I couldn’t help the freak out that poured through me.

At fifteen years old, I thought I was a badass.

It was then in that moment that I realized that I was nowhere near as fearless as I thought I was.

I…

***

Something was squeezing me tight, and it was only when Flint’s voice, sharp and worried, barked in my ear that I finally came out of the nightmare.

I was breathing hard, and I couldn’t get my eyes to focus.

I was shaking like a leaf, my ears were ringing, and the only part of my body that felt connected to my brain was where Flint was holding me close.