Page 8 of Arrogant and Merciless

“I can’t believe I only have half an hour left in my shift,” I say.

“You could wait for me. I’d walk with you to the subway. You’re way too young and pretty to be walking by yourself, Taylor.”

“I’ve got pepper spray in my purse.”

“And would you really use it?”

“Definitely. I’m not the type to feel bad about hurting someone if my safety is at risk. I’ll do what I have to do.”

“Your dad raised you right, Taylor.”

“Yes, he was the best father a girl could wish for.”

“How’s your job taking care of that older lady?”

I can’t help blushing as soon as I remember what happened with Mrs. Marshall’s grandson earlier today. “It’s going fine.”

“You look tired. I know serving the lounge is exhausting, but soon, you could take a bartending course and stay here with me behind the bar.”

In the near future, I’m planning to be in a nursing program, God willing.

I give her a quick smile without responding. Jackie has worked at this bar for a few years, and I don’t want her thinking I look down on her career.

“So, will you wait for me so we can walk out together?”

“No. Thanks for the offer, but I’m exhausted. I have to be at Mrs. Marshall’s house early tomorrow. She asked me to stay the entire day because the morning nurse has something else going on. Don’t worry; I’m always careful when I leave here. Plus, I don’t just have pepper spray. I have two legs, too. I love to run.”

She bursts out laughing, shaking her head. “The hero stands and fights; the smartest one runs,” she says.

“Exactly. In my case, I’m not interested in being a heroine. Survival is the goal. That, to me, is already a victory.”

* * *

Exactly forty minutes later, I’m on my way to the subway.

I lied to Jackie. I’m definitely scared of going home alone at night; New York’s subway is terrifying.

I didn’t grow up in Manhattan. When people hear “New York,” they think of the Big Apple, the island where the rich and famous lead lavish lifestyles. I’m a New Yorker from thestateof New York, and there’s a big difference. I was born and raised in Goshen, a small town with fewer than ten thousand residents.

I glance at the relatively empty street and quicken my pace. I always leave work wearing sneakers, and I wasn’t kidding when I told Jackie that if I need to run, I won’t think twice about it.

I’m about to step onto the first stair leading down to the subway when a chill runs down my neck. Maybe it’s my sixth sense—the instinct that warns us of danger even if we think our fears are unfounded.

I whip my head around almost a full 180°, like something out ofThe Exorcist, not even trying to hide the fact that I’m on alert. I don’t see anyone, but I still don’t go down the steps. If someone’s following me, I have a better chance of shaking them on the street than in the subway.

I stand there, unsure what to do, then decide to head back to the bar. But at that exact moment, a couple comes around the corner, walking in my direction. I exhale in relief when it’s clear they’re headed for the subway as well.

Without thinking twice, as soon as they’re close enough to hear me, I ask if I can walk with them because I have a feeling I’m being followed. That’s the advantage of being a small-town girl: I don’t give a damn about embarrassing myself. My only goal is to get home safely—and if sticking with them helps, then so be it.

Taylor

CHAPTER SIX

A Week Later

I decideto treat myself to a book for my twenty-third birthday. It’s a small indulgence, but I can’t even remember the last time I bought myself something. No one knows what day it is—not Bonnie, nor Jackie, nor Mrs. Marshall. I’ve never put much stock in celebrations, but my dad did, and since this is the first birthday I’m spending without him, I decide to make it special: I’ll buy something I love and eat a cupcake.

I only need to be at my employer’s house by lunchtime because it’s rare for her to ask me to come in the morning.

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