A chill walked Amara’s spine and broke her concentration on the movements of the martial arts exercise. As she hit the wall to propel herself into the air, she slipped and landed in a heap on the matted gym floor of the church run community center. She peered toward the door. The local drug lord and his nephew paused in the doorway. Ramos was probably headed to Father Joe’s office for his weekly visit. Her hands coiled into fists.
Ramos moved away but Miguel sauntered to her side. He stroked her cheek with a finger. Her body
shook. Every day he grew bolder.
Miguel leaned closer. “Gonna own you, babe. Make you mine.”
She shook her head. “No.”
He leered. “Once I take you hard, I’ll own you body and soul
‘til I tire of you. Then my boys will have a taste.”
Words of defiance froze on her tongue. His hooded gaze
stripped her naked. He squeezed her breast. “See you soon.”
She rose and completed the final exercise of today’s martial
arts training session. A quick glance at the door showed he was gone. She
should have felt relief but her hands shook and the sour smell of fear
remained.
“Ready for a match?” another of the students asked.
Amara shook her head. “I have to leave.”
The teenager stepped closer. “Wonder what Ramos wants?”
“Father Joe will know but I don’t intend to ask.” With shaking
hands she pulled on her jeans and tee shirt and tied her sneakers. In a
half-run, she hurried to the door and left the community center.
Outside, aromas reached her. Cooking food, exhaust from cars
and busses. Her own fear-laced sweat. Noises penetrated. Music, horns, people’s
voices. Her head darted from side to side. Was anyone watching her?
What could she do? Each
time she’d encountered Ramos’s nephew her fear strengthened. Each time his
words carried the same threat.
“Gonna plow you good,
babe. You’ll sing for me real sweet.”
She had no one to guard her back. Hadn’t had anyone since her
father’s death. She sighed. She’d almost had a friend. An undercover cop had
saved her. Then Ramos had discovered the man’s identity. Seth had vanished. Was
he dead?
As she scurried toward the apartment building where she lived
with her uncle and his family, she fought to control the fear rocketing through
her thoughts. Her breathing came in quick gasps. After her father’s death and
her mother’s suicide, her uncle had reluctantly given her a home. Social
Security benefits had been the reason but she would soon age out.
When she reached the building instead of stopping on the
fourth floor she continued up the stairs toward the roof. She wasn’t ready to
hear her uncle’s demands for her to quit school and find a job. She rubbed her
arms. There was no one to help her.
The sound of feet on the stairs from below reached her. She
crouched and peered through the railing. She sucked in a breath. Would her
pounding heart shatter her ribs? Why was Ramos here? One of his bodyguards
pounded on her uncle’s door.
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