Page 111 of Callan

I just had Carmen and her man push their way into my place. They threatened me and bullied me into cooperating.

What if that whole thing was about making me go to him and leading them there.

My pulse spikes as the possibility of doing more harm than good to him settles in my brain.

I stop and pull to the side, trying to hide in the entryway of a building.

The space is dark, but not for long since I trigger the motion sensors, and bright light pours over me.

“Fuck,” I mutter, zipping away from the building but not before glancing at the two dark silhouettes.

The men walk steadily toward me, and they have picked up the pace.

I start running. Skidding on the ice. Catching myself a couple of times. Getting desperate.

What am I doing?

Beverly’s building looms in the distance, and my mind has been made up.

I won’t be able to walk into her building with these two people following me.

More desperation jabs at me.

What a horrible evening.

There’s not much time to process what’s happening as I run past Beverly’s building, searching for a crowded area.

A lit space.

Sadly, not many people are out at the moment.

They’re baking cookies, cooking dinner, or drinking mulled wine in their homes.

I wish I could do that instead of dealing with the freezing cold and the two dark shadows that seem awfully close to me.

Honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing when I enter a busier street, step off the sidewalk, and run into traffic.

Luckily, only a few cars crawl down the road.

I manage to avoid them and not fall in front of them.A couple of drivers honk at me, and I pull away, but I still can’t find a safe spot.

Quick breaths leave my lips, my apprehension growing. I reach inside my jacket to grab my phone and call someone.

Maybe I can call that woman again.

It takes a moment of distraction, and my foot slips while my phone tears off my hand, falling in the middle of the road.

A car approaches me, and I signal the driver to slow down, rushing to pick up my phone when the car draws to a stop and the driver’s door opens.

The last thing I want right now is a confrontation with some knucklehead who can’t keep his temper under control.

“Give me a fucking second,” I bark, bending over to pick up my phone.

The headlights of the car create a glowing wall in front of me, momentarily blinding me.

I snap up, phone clutched in hand, and struggle to get to the side when a voice rings behind the light.

“Mackenzie?” the man calls, and I freeze. “Get in the car,” he demands in a rough voice. “Now.”

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