Three Hours (Seven Series Book 5)

Her hand flew up. “Jesus, I know. We had an emergency meeting this afternoon about it. Tina took off work because she was literally shaking, and girlfriend, I just happen to know she’s a grizzly bear,” Daphne said with a nervous laugh. “These men would crap their pants if she shifted on stage into that bad motherfucker.” Daphne stood up and straightened her clothes. “I have to go on in a little while. Wish me luck.”

 

 

I returned to the dressing room to grab my things and ran my fingers across Skye’s locker. I lifted the latch, and when it opened, the first thing I saw was a picture of her little girl affixed to the inside door. My heart shattered. I’d never noticed the photograph before because most of us kept our eyes on our own business. A single piece of cheap tape held it on, and someone had drawn a red heart in the bottom right-hand corner. Lola was a darling child. She was posed in front of a field of wildflowers, clutching a blue toy pony. She had her mama’s beautiful blue eyes and must have inherited her father’s hair. It fell to her shoulders in brown spirals and led me to believe she was biracial. That sweet baby was probably wondering where her mommy was. Who was Skye’s cousin? She hadn’t mentioned if it was a man or woman, or even how old they were. Did they have children of their own? I tugged the picture from the locker and slipped it into my purse. She didn’t have anything else in there worth looking through. Just a pair of shoes, a jacket, lipstick, two magazines, and some business cards with telephone numbers written on them.

 

I lifted the cards and stuffed them in my purse. Dean had already cleaned out the other girl’s locker, so we didn’t have any evidence to go on.

 

“Walk me to my car,” I said, latching on to Fawn’s arm.

 

She smacked on her gum while we strolled across the parking lot to my Trans Am.

 

I unlocked the door and tossed my things on the passenger seat. “Make sure you do the same and have someone walk you out.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me twice. I’m not going to get myself diced up by some sicko who worships Hannibal Lecter.” She spun on her heel and swung her hips like a pendulum as she made her way back inside.

 

After the long drive home, I parked in front of my apartment and sat in the car for a few minutes looking at Lola’s picture. The light from the carport let me stare into her sweet eyes, and I thought about the tears that would fill them each night when she went to bed, waiting to be tucked in and wondering if her mommy would be there in the morning.

 

I opened my clutch and removed the money I planned to give to Reno. Being a creature of habit, I knew that the moment I stepped inside my apartment I’d toss my purse on the sofa and forget about the money. So I gripped the bills in my hand and decided to spread it out in front of the coffee maker before going to bed. That way, I’d see it first thing in the morning.

 

I strolled across the grass on the stretch of land that led to my apartment. Our manager was too cheap to build a walkway from my building to the parking lot. Instead, a worn path ran from the stairwell to the mailboxes.

 

The grass made a soft whisper beneath my shoes, and I slowed my pace when a noise in the darkness grew louder. Heavy footsteps trampled toward me from behind, and before I could look over my shoulder, a body tackled me with such force that it knocked the wind out of me when I hit the ground.

 

He sat on my back and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking it so hard that it forced my head back.

 

“What are you doing?” I grunted, trying to push myself up. “Get off me, you brute!”

 

“Hold her still,” another man said.

 

A hand appeared in front of my face, holding a slender metal object that resembled an instrument a human doctor might use. It was black and long with a round bulb at the tip.

 

“Keep your mouth shut and this’ll be over real quick,” he said.

 

A click sounded when he flipped it on and he held it directly in front of my right eye. A fast series of strobe lights began flashing in a chaotic rhythm, and I panicked. The right speed of strobe caused Shifters to change uncontrollably. They were prohibited in clubs unless the owner regulated the flicker rate so it wouldn’t cause shifting.

 

A high intensity of pulsing light blinded my right eye, and I heard a snapping sound as it continued. Shutting my eyes was useless, and I couldn’t loosen his grip on my hair.

 

A tremor rolled through my body, and my black panther clawed to the surface.

 

***

 

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