Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
But then I saw the tattoo on the side of his neck when he turned to look at something across the street.
Red and black.
Panic shot its little electrical currents through my body, making me tighten Frida’s leash in my hand as I suddenly turned directions, rushing toward the side of the building where I would be out of sight.
It didn’t feel like enough, though.
What if they’d seen me?
What if they were following?
I didn’t stop to try to rationalize my way through it.
I just broke into a run.
I likely looked like one of those other people—who I personally thought were lunatics—who went on runs with their dogs, even in the worst heat and humidity of the summer. Not like a woman running for her life.
If someone was looking closely, they might catch the way Frida kept glancing over at me, confusion clear in her face, her expression practically screaming Mom, what the hell?
I went down side streets, putting as much distance between us and the bad guys as possible.
Only when we were twenty minutes away with no sign of them, did I finally stop, leaning forward, hands on my knees, gasping for breath.
Frida’s tongue was hanging out, her chest heaving.
“Sorry,” I gasped, feeling the sweat pouring down my face from the bent position.
Neither Frida nor I were runners.
She seemed to be faring better than I was, with my burning face and lungs that felt like they were on fire.
“Here… baby…” I panted, unclipping her water bottle, and dispensing some into the cup for her to lap up.
I let her have her fill before reaching for my own bottle, gulping until it was gone.
“Okay. Alright,” I said, trying to calm myself down.
We were okay.
Safe.
In an area full of people and businesses.
If they came for us, someone would be around to help. Or to call for help.
That was exactly what I should be doing, right?
Calling the police?
I reached for my phone, only to find I hadn’t grabbed it. With trying to remember the water, my keys, my wallet, and to put the stickies on Frida’s feet, I’d just… left it.
I never normally would have noticed until we got home and I saw it sitting on the counter. There was no reason for me to look. I didn’t have a social circle, so the only reason I even had social media was to follow authors or artists I really liked.
“Damnit,” I said, offering Frida more water, but she turned her nose up to it.
What was I going to do?
Ask a store to use their landline? Ask a stranger to use their cell?
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
Besides, by the time I got to find the non-emergency phone number, then get in touch with the police officer from the night before, chances were that the guys would be long gone.
But I couldn’t go home either.
I don’t know where the idea came from.
Really, it seemed as simple as catching a flash of yellow in my peripheral vision. Then turning to see a sight I forgot existed thanks to my dependence on ride-shares.
Taxis.
Maybe they were on a decline in most places, but in busy cities, like Miami, they were still relatively common.
I was walking in that direction before I could think better of it. Before I could think about it at all.
“Need a ride, hon?” the older driver asked, voice having a hint of New York. So did the impatient air that hung around him when I took a second to speak.
“Could you drive me out to Golden Glades?” I asked.
“That’s a long trip, hon,” he said. “Gonna be pricey. Sixty or so.”
“That’s fine. But… can I bring her?” I asked, waving toward Frida who was eyeing the cab with suspicion.
In general, I tried to walk her anywhere she needed to go. Luckily, her vet was only a ten-minute walk away.
But I had needed to get her into a ride-share a few times in the past. She didn’t love it, but she didn’t fight me, either.
The driver leaned over, looking down at her.
“Yeah, sure. So long as she don’t try to bite me, I’m fine with it.”
“Great,” I said, wrenching open the door, and nudging Frida inside.
“Got an address for me?” he asked, messing with his taximeter, then his phone that was stuck in a holder.
“114 Peacock Road,” I recited from memory. I tried to convince myself that I only remembered it because it was so cute. The reality was that I’d stared at that note for a long time. Until his address was imprinted on my brain.
“Alright,” he said, plugging the address into his phone, hitting a button on the taximeter, then pulling off.
I was thankful for the fact that he was apparently a big fan of his sports podcast, because he completely ignored me as he talked back at whatever they were discussing.
I melted into the seat, closing my eyes for a second, just enjoying the cold air as it flew out of the vents.