The little car puttered along as far as it could and she pulled off the side of the road when it finally ran out of gas. She gathered her few belongings, locked her car and started walking. Two cars passed her and she held out her thumb to hitch a ride, praying that it wouldn't be with the wrong person, but neither stopped. It was so dark now that the night seemed to close in around her, bringing with it fear and doubt about her hasty decision to leave. Never one to give up and left with no choice, she pressed on.
In less than two miles, she came upon an old motel. It was on the opposite side of the road and even though the sign wasn't illuminated, she could see there were rooms with lights on. They probably turn off their marquee light when they're full, she thought to herself. She crossed the road and approached the entrance with a lighter step. She would ask to use a phone, call a cab and be on her way. She was encouraged when she heard laughter and music and saw a bonfire. Letting out a sigh of relief that she'd stumbled on what seemed to be a fun crowd, she walked a little faster, grateful that she had found the Glades Motel.
Chapter Sixteen
Fort Lauderdale, Florida 1978
Moe sat in her usual place in front of the fire at the Glades Motel and stared into it, ignoring the profanity and obscene expletives that were being exchanged by the men hanging around the blaze. She was secretly grateful that nobody asked for sex from her tonight. At least they hadn’t yet. She wanted to, needed to wallow in her pain alone. It had been almost two weeks since Kit, Grizz's wife, had been brutally attacked. Moe had caught the brunt of Grizz’s anger when it was discovered that the dogs he'd had for Kit's protection had been locked in Moe's room for the night. She slowly raised her head and focused on the number four that was displayed on Grizz and Kit's unit. Her guilt was overwhelming, especially since she was harboring a huge secret. One she knew would cost her her life if Grizz ever found out.
Hooting and hollering broke the spell and she looked up to see a short blonde woman cautiously approach the group. It was a small crowd, only four or five men, and Moe didn't like them. There were only a few regulars she felt safe with, but none of them were around. Grunt had moved out and was living with his girlfriend in a condo on the beach. Chowder had taken Chicky to have a few drinks and shoot pool at one of the bars Grizz owned, Razor’s. Fess was out of town at a teaching conference. Blue was home having dinner with his family. Grizz and Kit were in their unit. Grizz hadn't left Kit's side for two weeks.
Moe eyed the woman and immediately knew she'd stumbled on the Glades Motel by accident. She was probably a lost motorist or a hitchhiker who'd been dropped off. Moe recognized the look of sheer panic on the woman's face when she noticed the motorcycles and the logo on one of the leather jackets that was draped on the back of a lawn chair. The patch identified it as one of South Florida's most deadly motorcycle clubs. The chairs haphazardly circled the fire the regulars referred to as the pit. Moe saw the panic turn to terror when the blonde realized she'd walked right into a den of thieves, murderers, and rapists. And she was their next target.
Moe jumped up and ran to number four. She went in without knocking. Grizz, who'd been sitting on the coffee table with his back to her, turned around and frowned at the interruption.
"I don't need pampering, Grizz. I'm fine. The couch is comfortable, and I want to do a little reading and watch my show. If I need something, I can get it myself." Kit's soft and sweet voice caused Moe's insides to twist. Especially when she peered around Grizz and asked, "Moe, are you okay? Do you need something?"
Moe couldn't wrap her head around the fact that the woman who almost died was asking if she needed something. Her guilt weighed heavily, and if she could've put herself in Kit's place or reversed what had happened two weeks ago, she would have gladly done so. It was too late to change that, but she might be able to do something to help the poor girl who was probably already being stripped of her clothes. She could only hope that Grizz would care.
She ran to him and pulled on his huge, tattooed arm.
"Moe needs you, Grizz," Kit told him as she started to get up.
"You stay put," he told his wife as he stood. "And when I get back you're going to take a pain pill. I see it in your face, Kitten. You're still hurting."
The pounding in Christy's head was overwhelming. An icy fear almost paralyzed her. She was going to be attacked. She was going to be raped. Probably even murdered. She turned around and bolted for the highway, but one man was on her like lightning. He grabbed her roughly by her arm and after spinning her around tried to shove his tongue down her throat as he gripped the back of her neck tightly. He used his other hand to squeeze her left breast violently. She let out a cry as his grasp became more like a death grip and she felt her shirt tear. His rancid breath caused her to gag. She was having a thousand thoughts all at once and not one of them was managing to offer an escape plan.
A memory floated through her mind. Afternoon thunderstorms were an everyday occurrence in the summer. Litzy had told her that if she counted the time between when she saw the lightning and heard the thunder she could tell how far away the storm was and as her counting got higher, it meant the storm was moving away. Unfortunately, Christy couldn't see the lightning from inside her closet, so Litzy taught her a Scripture to help calm her fears. Christy must've said it thousands of times in her youth, and it replayed itself in her mind now.
"For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love..."
It played like a mantra in her head as she remembered that some of her happiest childhood memories revolved around Sunday mornings at church with Litzy. That changed right before her thirteenth birthday. After returning from a family cruise, twelve-year-old Christy had told Litzy that there was no God and she never stepped foot inside a church again. Christy decided to give Litzy's God another chance.
Help me, God, she screamed in her head. She couldn’t get the words past her lips. Show me a way out of this.
"...a sound mind...a sound mind...a sound mind." Give me a sound mind. Help me to think, her brain cried as her fists landed against the chest of the man attacking her, doing nothing to stop him.
In an instant, visions of Anthony's handsome face came to mind. She recalled the deep dimple she'd first noticed less than two hours ago. She then imagined his smile fading and remembered the fierce scowl she thought could shrink a violet, and she tried to utter the only two words she could think of. They would either save her. Or seal her fate.
Before she could get them out, the man landed a stiff blow to her face causing her to stumble backward. She felt the blood spurt from her nose as she caught herself before she fell. She turned to run, but felt the painful ripping of her hair as she was yanked back harshly. Her entire body was spun around and she was forced to her knees.