The engine was still warm beneath the metal.
Oddly enough, that lingering heat is something I remember more vividly than the exact words he barked at me.
My cheek pressed against the hood hard enough to sting.
He twisted both of my wrists behind my back until pain shot through my shoulders.
Across the street, two neighbors had already stepped outside to watch.
One of them was Gloria Pike.
She was the woman who always seemed to linger far too long whenever luxury vehicles arrived at my house for detailing appointments. I had caught her watching more times than I could count.
Now she stood on the sidewalk in her familiar cardigan, arms folded tightly across her chest.
The expression on her face wasn’t curiosity.
It wasn’t concern.
Continue on the next page:
