Chapter 63 Bring Me Along
I paused at the door, scanning the dimly lit convenience store. A solitary figure stood behind the counter—a man with broad shoulders and a stern expression.
Pushing the door open, I winced as a bell chimed overhead. The man's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as they tracked my entrance.
"Excuse me," I managed, my voice cracking. "My phone was stolen. Could I—could I use your phone to call someone?"
The man behind the counter studied me. He was around thirty, with a military-short haircut and the solid build of someone who'd seen combat. His right arm displayed a Marine Corps tattoo, while his left bore a jagged scar that disappeared beneath his sleeve.
"Listen," he said, his voice low and guarded, "I don't know what you're mixed up in, but I don't want any trouble."
I glanced down at myself—torn clothes, dirt-smudged skin, wrists raw from the zip ties. I must have looked like a walking disaster.
"Please," I whispered. "I've been walking for hours..."
He shook his head. "Last week someone with a similar story scammed Jackson out of his entire register. I can't use the store phone."
Tears welled in my eyes. I wasn't acting—I was genuinely at the end of my rope. "Could I at least have some water? I have no money, but—"
The man's expression softened slightly. He reached into a cooler and pulled out an Evian bottle, then grabbed a pre-packaged sandwich.
"Here," he said, sliding them across the counter.
My hands trembled so badly I couldn't twist off the bottle cap. The man watched me struggle for a moment before sighing and taking the bottle back. He opened it with a quick twist and handed it to me.
"Thank you," I said, gulping down the water so fast it dribbled down my chin.
As I drank, the man's eyes fell to the marks on my wrists and neck. His expression changed subtly.
"Shit," he muttered. With reluctance, he pulled a cell phone from his pocket. "Five minutes. Then you're gone."
Relief flooded through me. "Thank you—thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me."
"Use it outside, by the side of the building," he instructed. "Away from the security cameras. I don't need to be involved in... whatever this is."
I nodded gratefully and stepped outside, clutching the precious phone. The night air had cooled, and stars spread across the desert sky like scattered diamonds. I'd just started dialing when the sound of tires screeching against asphalt made me freeze.
A black Chrysler 300 with lowered suspension pulled into the lot, hip-hop blaring from its speakers. Three men stepped out, all with the hard eyes and confident swagger of people who lived by intimidation.
The leader—a Latino man covered in tattoos—cast a predatory gaze around the lot before heading toward the store entrance. My stomach clenched. Something about these men screamed danger.
Suddenly, the store clerk burst through the side door, grabbing my arm.
"Inside," he hissed. "Now."
He pulled me into a back storage room, his expression tense. "Stay here. Don't make a sound."
"What's happening?" I whispered.
"Ortega crew," he muttered. "They're not here for you, but you don't want them to see you."
Through the crack in the door, I watched the tattooed man enter the store with a false smile.
"Soldier Boy!" he called out. "Long time no see."
The clerk—Luke, I learned from the exchange—kept his face neutral. "Marco. What do you want?"
Marco leaned against the counter, his casual posture belied by the tension in his shoulders. "Mr. Knight wants to have a chat about the other night. You know, when you decided to be a Good Samaritan."
Luke's jaw tightened. "Fine. Let me close up first. This is my friend's store—I can't just leave it open."
One of Marco's companions noticed the half-eaten sandwich on the counter. His eyes narrowed, scanning the store. "You got company, Soldier Boy?" He walked toward the storage room door. My heart stopped.
"Look at that pretty little thing hiding back there," the man said after spotting me. "Where'd you find her out here in the middle of nowhere?"
Luke's hand shot out, gripping the man's arm. "I'm coming with you. Leave her out of this."
I stepped forward, making a split-second decision. If Luke was in trouble because he'd helped me, I couldn't just let him face it alone. With Ethan as my protection, I believed I could help him.
"I'm coming too," I said, grabbing Luke's sleeve.
Luke glared at me. "Get lost. This isn't your problem."
Marco's eyes lit up with interest. "Since she's so eager, bring her along. She can keep us company on the ride."
Outside, Luke locked up the store, discreetly hiding the key behind an electrical box. They ushered us into the Chrysler, Marco driving, one thug in the passenger seat, with Luke and me in the back flanking the third man.
When I pulled out the phone to make a call, the man beside me grabbed my wrist.
"What do you think you're doing? Calling the cops?" he sneered.
I forced a sweet smile. "I need to tell my roommate I won't be coming home. Otherwise, she'll call the police."
I showed him the dialing screen. "See? Not 911—just my roommate's number."
He smirked and patted my thigh. "Go ahead, then."
My fingers trembled as I dialed Ethan's number from memory. When he answered, I rushed to speak before he could say his name.
"Emma? It's me. Listen, I won't be back to the dorm tonight..." I kept my voice casual but urgent. "I'm at this Shell gas station on Highway 15 and met some friends. I'm with them now... yeah, part of that Ortega family everyone talks about controlling this stretch of road."
The gang member stiffened beside me.
"We're heading north—"
The thug snatched the phone from my hand. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He raised his hand to strike me.
Luke grabbed his wrist with surprising speed. "Touch her and we'll have a problem."
The tension in the car was suffocating. Marco barked from the driver's seat, "Cool it, both of you. We'll deal with her when we get there."
The third man in the front passenger seat kept turning around to stare at me, his hand making obscene movements near his crotch. "You're already in deep shit, girl. You ain't in a position to protect your woman, Soldier Boy. Maybe if you loan her to me for a while, I might put in a good word with Mr. Knight for you."
Just as his words hung in the air, headlights appeared on the highway. Several black SUVs surrounded our car, forcing Marco to slam on the brakes as we skidded to a halt.