tour in Bosnia, taught yoga and meditation at a youth hostel on the South Island. Her friend believed all women should know how to defend themselves.
As the boys murmured to each other, Liz unconsciously prepared—hips square to her body, knees flexed to take advantage of her lower center of gravity. She consciously braced her shoulders and said, “Is it Gypsies you hate or women?”
The leader slouched on the seat of his bike and grunted something she couldn’t make out. The smaller boy fidgetedand looked ready to hightail it. All three were white. The bikes they were riding probably could have fed the children at the orphanage for a year.
“We heard about you—and the two hos you got livin’ with you. You got some kind of kinky sex thing going?”
The last brought an edgy giggle from the other punks.
Yep, neighborhood kids, Liz decided. This one, at least. They probably overheard their parents gossiping. The idea made her slightly ill. She’d done a good thing by opening her home to two desperate young women. How could that possibly be cause for scorn and ridicule?
Anger made her take a step forward. “I know you, don’t I?” she asked, pointing at the leader. “You live near me. I’ve seen you riding your bike around. What’s your name?”
His barely audible curse wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before. A small-minded bully with a trashy mouth. Nothing new there. She decided to ignore him. “Is that what you think?” she asked his two friends. “That because my family is Romani, I’m an inferior person? Well, I’m not the one standing in a parking lot calling people names, am I?”
The smallest boy, who was obviously younger than his friends, turned his bike in the opposite direction and took off peddling. The middle-sized kid groaned and tried calling him back. “Joey, get your ass back here, you coward.”
Liz took a step closer. “He’s not the coward. You are. All bullies are cowards deep down. They take advantage of someone else’s weaknesses to harass them because it makes them feel powerful. Calling a girl names. Yeah, that’s real brave.”
The boy she’d been addressing flushed scarlet and looked down. His pal, the leader, shoved his bike to the ground and advanced toward her. Although not full-grown, he wasseveral inches taller than Liz and a good thirty pounds heavier. And she could tell by the vitriolic flow of curse words that spewed from his lips, this kid was in a rage.
Whoever said rape was about anger, not sex, knew what they were talking about, her self-defense teacher had said . If you keep your wits about you, you can use blind rage to your advantage.
When he charged, Liz used his forward momentum to trip him. The kid did a sprawling belly flop on the pavement. His friend, who’d finally screwed up his courage, let out a cry of outrage and rushed to his buddy’s aid. Together, they probably could have knocked her down and done enough damage to warrant a trip to the hospital—something she couldn’t afford.
Liz turned to run, but the kid on the ground grabbed her ankle, twisting with both hands. His friend lunged at her from the side and latched on to her wrist. The sense of captivity triggered a memory so vivid it felt ripped from her womb. Old fear…and a burning fury that she’d tamped down for years surfaced, too.
“No,” she cried, fighting them off with all her might. “I am not your victim, you snot-nosed little bastards. You’re gonna think twice before you ever do this to another woman.”
Chapter Five
Davidwasn’t in a hurry. He had a cat to feed. Big deal. A solitary meal and some seedlings to replant. Another boring night in one of the hottest travel destinations in the world. The irony wasn’t lost on him.
He slowed to a stop and looked in both directions. Just as he took his foot off the clutch, a kid on a bike shot out of a driveway and raced across the street as if the devil were on his tail.
By failing to step on the gas, David
As the boys murmured to each other, Liz unconsciously prepared—hips square to her body, knees flexed to take advantage of her lower center of gravity. She consciously braced her shoulders and said, “Is it Gypsies you hate or women?”
The leader slouched on the seat of his bike and grunted something she couldn’t make out. The smaller boy fidgetedand looked ready to hightail it. All three were white. The bikes they were riding probably could have fed the children at the orphanage for a year.
“We heard about you—and the two hos you got livin’ with you. You got some kind of kinky sex thing going?”
The last brought an edgy giggle from the other punks.
Yep, neighborhood kids, Liz decided. This one, at least. They probably overheard their parents gossiping. The idea made her slightly ill. She’d done a good thing by opening her home to two desperate young women. How could that possibly be cause for scorn and ridicule?
Anger made her take a step forward. “I know you, don’t I?” she asked, pointing at the leader. “You live near me. I’ve seen you riding your bike around. What’s your name?”
His barely audible curse wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before. A small-minded bully with a trashy mouth. Nothing new there. She decided to ignore him. “Is that what you think?” she asked his two friends. “That because my family is Romani, I’m an inferior person? Well, I’m not the one standing in a parking lot calling people names, am I?”
The smallest boy, who was obviously younger than his friends, turned his bike in the opposite direction and took off peddling. The middle-sized kid groaned and tried calling him back. “Joey, get your ass back here, you coward.”
Liz took a step closer. “He’s not the coward. You are. All bullies are cowards deep down. They take advantage of someone else’s weaknesses to harass them because it makes them feel powerful. Calling a girl names. Yeah, that’s real brave.”
The boy she’d been addressing flushed scarlet and looked down. His pal, the leader, shoved his bike to the ground and advanced toward her. Although not full-grown, he wasseveral inches taller than Liz and a good thirty pounds heavier. And she could tell by the vitriolic flow of curse words that spewed from his lips, this kid was in a rage.
Whoever said rape was about anger, not sex, knew what they were talking about, her self-defense teacher had said . If you keep your wits about you, you can use blind rage to your advantage.
When he charged, Liz used his forward momentum to trip him. The kid did a sprawling belly flop on the pavement. His friend, who’d finally screwed up his courage, let out a cry of outrage and rushed to his buddy’s aid. Together, they probably could have knocked her down and done enough damage to warrant a trip to the hospital—something she couldn’t afford.
Liz turned to run, but the kid on the ground grabbed her ankle, twisting with both hands. His friend lunged at her from the side and latched on to her wrist. The sense of captivity triggered a memory so vivid it felt ripped from her womb. Old fear…and a burning fury that she’d tamped down for years surfaced, too.
“No,” she cried, fighting them off with all her might. “I am not your victim, you snot-nosed little bastards. You’re gonna think twice before you ever do this to another woman.”
Chapter Five
Davidwasn’t in a hurry. He had a cat to feed. Big deal. A solitary meal and some seedlings to replant. Another boring night in one of the hottest travel destinations in the world. The irony wasn’t lost on him.
He slowed to a stop and looked in both directions. Just as he took his foot off the clutch, a kid on a bike shot out of a driveway and raced across the street as if the devil were on his tail.
By failing to step on the gas, David
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