repetition. Meghan chin rose and dread filled her. Thankfully, she distinguished a single figure, and hoped she might reason with him.
“You’re in my way,” she stressed, purposely keeping the quaver out of her voice.
“Now, I’m in your way.” The man mocked. She clutched her cane tightly, her forefinger grinding into the aluminum handle and the strap biting into her wrist. She didn’t want to use the item as a weapon, but suspected she might not have much choice.
“If you’ll excuse me…”
He interrupted her with a short whistle, the sound spilling with sickening contempt.
“Did you hear her, Ryan? The little woman keeps saying excuse me, all fine and ladylike. She sounds like she’s too good to mix with the likes of us.”
Meghan cringed as an assortment of snuffling laughs followed his comment, from the vicinity behind her. She felt a hot breath ruffle her hair, flinching, before she ground her teeth together. She straightened, mentally cursing herself for her laxness, and stiffened her shoulders.
“Look,” she began, keeping her tone even. “I don’t have anything of value on me.”
“You might just be enough.” Fingers lifted the hair from her shoulder. She stifled a shudder and inhaled, choking on the overwhelming stench of pot and soured sweat.
“I’ve told you…”
“I see your lips a moving, but you ain’t told me nothing, baby.” The man before her chortled, his hand sliding down her arm. “Did you hear something, Ryan?”
“Not a damn thing.” Ryan snickered as she jerked away.
“I don’t have anything you want.” Meghan protested and gripped her cane more firmly.
“Sweetheart, you got more than you could ever believe.”
“I’m sorry?”
“We like what I see, honey, and we want it.”
Dread coursed through her, their intent obvious as a pair of arms wrapped around her waist. Her heart flew into her throat and she opened her mouth, screaming loudly. The sound echoed down the street before Meghan slammed her elbow back, hitting the man behind her in the stomach. Her reaction was unexpected and he released her, and she staggered. She righted and swung her walking stick in a wide arc.
A tight grip caught the aluminum rod and yanked hard. Unprepared, she stumbled, her wrist entwined in the item’s leather strap. Meghan fell against her assailant, her breath drawing sharply through her teeth before she shoved away from him.
Heavy hands grabbed her waist, propelling her across the pavement. Struggling, she fought the cruel fingers dug more deeply into her skin, dragging her into a nearby alley. Meghan yelled, pleading for help, despite the raucous laughter echoing in around her. Without being told, she imagined her pleas were ignored. Knight gallants had vanished centuries ago, and there wasn't a code of chivalry existing in her modern world.
“Let…me…go!” She demanded sharply, panting, and struggling with every bit of her strength. As her attacker wrenched her arm cruelly behind her back, her purse dropped to the ground. Hazily, she heard coins and bottles roll from inside the cavernous compartment and across the pavement.
Meghan tensed and swung her free arm hard, her fists contacting with someone’s jaw, while her nails raked his face. She lashed out, shouting, screaming for help, but the hands never left her. Curses filled the air but she didn’t care, and all sense of reason left her as she fought for her life.
Unceremoniously, the pair dropped her to the hard ground. The stench of fetid water, trash, and urine rolled across her tongue. A sharp backhand jerked her head to the side, effectively drawing blood. Despite the pain, Meghan growled deep in her throat, her arms flailing.
“We got us a fighter, Jesse!” Ryan declared, his breath escaping him in short and panting gasps.
“I’d have never thought a blind girl could put up such a fuss.” The other countered and Meghan supposed he wiped blood from his mouth, his words muffled. She hoped she
“You’re in my way,” she stressed, purposely keeping the quaver out of her voice.
“Now, I’m in your way.” The man mocked. She clutched her cane tightly, her forefinger grinding into the aluminum handle and the strap biting into her wrist. She didn’t want to use the item as a weapon, but suspected she might not have much choice.
“If you’ll excuse me…”
He interrupted her with a short whistle, the sound spilling with sickening contempt.
“Did you hear her, Ryan? The little woman keeps saying excuse me, all fine and ladylike. She sounds like she’s too good to mix with the likes of us.”
Meghan cringed as an assortment of snuffling laughs followed his comment, from the vicinity behind her. She felt a hot breath ruffle her hair, flinching, before she ground her teeth together. She straightened, mentally cursing herself for her laxness, and stiffened her shoulders.
“Look,” she began, keeping her tone even. “I don’t have anything of value on me.”
“You might just be enough.” Fingers lifted the hair from her shoulder. She stifled a shudder and inhaled, choking on the overwhelming stench of pot and soured sweat.
“I’ve told you…”
“I see your lips a moving, but you ain’t told me nothing, baby.” The man before her chortled, his hand sliding down her arm. “Did you hear something, Ryan?”
“Not a damn thing.” Ryan snickered as she jerked away.
“I don’t have anything you want.” Meghan protested and gripped her cane more firmly.
“Sweetheart, you got more than you could ever believe.”
“I’m sorry?”
“We like what I see, honey, and we want it.”
Dread coursed through her, their intent obvious as a pair of arms wrapped around her waist. Her heart flew into her throat and she opened her mouth, screaming loudly. The sound echoed down the street before Meghan slammed her elbow back, hitting the man behind her in the stomach. Her reaction was unexpected and he released her, and she staggered. She righted and swung her walking stick in a wide arc.
A tight grip caught the aluminum rod and yanked hard. Unprepared, she stumbled, her wrist entwined in the item’s leather strap. Meghan fell against her assailant, her breath drawing sharply through her teeth before she shoved away from him.
Heavy hands grabbed her waist, propelling her across the pavement. Struggling, she fought the cruel fingers dug more deeply into her skin, dragging her into a nearby alley. Meghan yelled, pleading for help, despite the raucous laughter echoing in around her. Without being told, she imagined her pleas were ignored. Knight gallants had vanished centuries ago, and there wasn't a code of chivalry existing in her modern world.
“Let…me…go!” She demanded sharply, panting, and struggling with every bit of her strength. As her attacker wrenched her arm cruelly behind her back, her purse dropped to the ground. Hazily, she heard coins and bottles roll from inside the cavernous compartment and across the pavement.
Meghan tensed and swung her free arm hard, her fists contacting with someone’s jaw, while her nails raked his face. She lashed out, shouting, screaming for help, but the hands never left her. Curses filled the air but she didn’t care, and all sense of reason left her as she fought for her life.
Unceremoniously, the pair dropped her to the hard ground. The stench of fetid water, trash, and urine rolled across her tongue. A sharp backhand jerked her head to the side, effectively drawing blood. Despite the pain, Meghan growled deep in her throat, her arms flailing.
“We got us a fighter, Jesse!” Ryan declared, his breath escaping him in short and panting gasps.
“I’d have never thought a blind girl could put up such a fuss.” The other countered and Meghan supposed he wiped blood from his mouth, his words muffled. She hoped she
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