CHAPTER 1
Connie stifled a yawn as she refilled old Ben Greely's coffee at the diner's
counter. There was still almost a full hour until quitting time, but she was more than
ready to be done with work for today.
It had been a slow afternoon. Even the lunch rush hadn't been as busy as it
normally was. She watched Charlie cleaning the booth tables by the windows. She knew he
was stealing her tip money even though she hadn't actually seen him in action. Ever
since Ernie had given his son a job here her tips had been steadily declining. She'd
spoken to Ernie about it last week and he was outraged she would even suggest his son
would do something like that. Not only had he not done anything about it, but now he
treated her like shit. In almost ten years of working here, she'd never once been
late for work, but that didn't make a damn bit of difference. It just went to show
blood was definitely thicker than water. Connie wasn't his son, she was just another
waitress, and now she was a pretty disgruntled one at that.
If she was younger she would just load up that old Jeep and get the hell out of this
town. There wasn't anything left here anymore that she even liked. This job sucked,
and her husband was shacked up in the trailer court down the road with some little
red-headed bitch half her age. It was a hell of a note to hear her husband tell her on
her fortieth birthday he was leaving her. Now over two months later it was finally
sinking in. Rich wasn't coming back. Most of the time she didn't care, anyway.
She was as tired of him as her was of her. Rich hadn't exactly been tactful though,
comparing her to meatloaf was a low blow. Sex with her was like having burnt meatloaf
every night for dinner. The fact that Rich hated meatloaf to begin with made it even more
insulting.
The bell on the front door jingled as three young men came into the diner. The tallest
one was impossible not to notice, and Connie tried hard not to stare at him. He was dark,
with long wavy hair, deep bronzed skin, and black eyes. His muscles were so perfectly
defined it was as if he was a sculpture, something too beautiful to be real. Those dark
eyes were fringed in thick black lashes above prominent, angular cheekbones. He looked
tough. His face had a hard edgy look that somehow succeeded in making him even more
attractive. A thin, ribbed, white tank top accentuated his dark skin, and framed a set of
heavily muscled, tattooed arms that were damn near works of art.
These guys obviously weren't from around here. They radiated street-tough and big
city, and she wondered why they were out here in the middle of nowhere.
He must have felt her looking at him, because his head turned and he met her eyes. She
felt powerless to move and couldn't look away from him. Something flickered in his
eyes, something that made her feel like a weak little kitten. Several different emotions
radiated from him, but she found it hard to decide what any of them were. For whatever
reason, he seemed as focused on her as she was on him. He was absolutely breathtaking
when he smiled at her.
They walked to the center booth and sat down, speaking in hushed tones.
Finally, she swallowed hard, picked up three menus, and approached the men. The one
who appeared to be the oldest, a mean looking man with a scraggly goatee, ordered coffee
and refused the menu.
"Can I get you something to drink?" she managed to ask the big man, aware
that her voice came out sounding hoarse.
"Coke, with a lot of ice," he said, not breaking eye contact. She had to
look away from him to take the other two men's drink order but she could feel those
eyes burning into her.
As she filled two red plastic cups with ice she wondered why he kept looking at her
like that. He was young, no more than mid-twenties, if that. He sure didn't look
like the kind of guy who'd like meatloaf, and if by any chance he did, he liked his
served way fresher than forty years old.
They didn't order much to eat, the skinny one with baggy pants ordered the most,
two big burgers and two orders of fries. He was definitely the youngest, barely out of
his teens, if that. The one with the goatee kept checking his watch, and drank coffee.
The good looking one managed to eat a small plate of fries and gravy in between staring at
her and sipping his Coke.
She approached the table again to refill the coffee drinker's cup once more. This
time he held his hand over it.
"I've had enough," he said gruffly.
"Would any of you care for dessert?" she asked. It was a question straight
from the employee handbook and one she had always hated asking. It caused all three men
to laugh.
"Oh, Javi wants dessert all right," the one with the goatee said. It was the
first time she ever saw him crack a smile.
"What exactly are you offering us?" the one who had spent the last half hour
eyeing her asked.
Already embarrassed she hated to answer. "Pie," she said quietly.
He licked his lips slowly and she felt her whole body tingle at the sight. "Is it
hot, sweet, cherry pie?"
"We have blueberry or apple," she said aware her mouth was suddenly parched.
The way his accent rolled the R's in cherry made the word sound incredibly erotic.
"I don't want any of that kind of pie sweetheart, he said as he grasped her
wrist. "Quiero a la mesera de postre."
She didn't know what he said, but the husky tone of his voice was extremely sexy.
"What does that mean?" she asked, aware of the tremble in her own voice.
"I want the waitress for dessert," he replied with a devilish smile.
Her whole body felt hot. She knew she was blushing, her face was burning.
His hand was warm and he had his fingers wrapped around her tightly, digging into her
skin. "You are so very pretty," he remarked in a voice so smooth she was sure
he was joking. His fingers around her wrist were like an electrical shock.
She smiled at him. Yeah, sure she was pretty. He was goddamn amazing and he was
telling her she was pretty. "Thank you," she managed to answer.
He was looking at her nametag, either that or her tits, so it had to be the nametag.
"Connie," he said softly, with a hint of a smile on his face.
Yeah, he'd been looking at her nametag.
"You married Connie?" he asked, still gripping her wrist.
"No... well, yes, but my husband and I are separated." She could still feel
the heat on her cheeks beneath his intense eye contact. She didn't think she looked
forty, but the way he stared at her right now she could envision him noticing every single
flaw on her face.
"I guess your husband's not a very smart guy."
He paused and his eyes moved over her face. "Unless he left you because he found
out you had yourself a boyfriend."
She shook her head. "I don't have a boyfriend."
He leaned toward her. "I got a lot I have to do right now, but maybe sometime if
I come back through this way. Maybe me and you could get together?" He gave her a
long suggestive once-over that made her legs feel weak. "Maybe I could take you to
dinner, somewhere where people wait on you, and all you have to do is sit and look pretty.
Then maybe I could have you for dessert?"
It was hard to breathe for a second, and even harder to think. He really had to be
teasing her. What the hell would a guy like this see in her?
"Um," she stammered, feeling self-conscious. "Yeah, sure."
He smiled. "You better mean that, Connie. If I come all the way back here to see
you … well, you'd better make it worth my while."
The one with the goatee laughed. "Jesus, Javi, just come right out and tell her
how bad you want to fuck her and get it over with." His eyes focused on her then.
"Javier likes snow."
Connie felt stupid that she didn't understand what he meant. "What?"
The man stroked his goatee. "He likes to fuck white girls."
For a second the hand around her wrist tightened, and Javier's jaw clenched, but
ignored the man's comment, instead turning to the boy seated beside him. "You
all done eating, Luis?"
"Uh, huh. Can we get our bill?" skinny boy asked her, with a wide grin on
his face.
The big man released her grip on her wrist as she reached into her apron pocket for
their bill. He looked back over at the skinny boy.
"Make sure you leave Connie a good tip, Luis."
Luis reached out and took the bill, and after barely glancing at it he took his wallet
out and pulled out a hundred and gave it to her with the bill.
"Keep the change," he said indifferently.
"But the bill was only eighteen..."
He smiled at her. "I said keep the change. You kept Javier entertained. He was
mad at me just because I wanted to stop for lunch, but I think he enjoyed being here more
than I did."
"I was going to leave her a tip, Luis," the one with the goatee scolded
angrily. "You shouldn't give her so much money. You could buy a blowjob on the
avenue for less than that! Christ, all she did was bring the food and pour some fucking
coffee!"
"It's not so much Ramon! Connie was a good waitress," Javier said, his
attractive face hardening into a scowl as he stared at the man across the table.
"It's not your money, so why are you worried about it?"
Ramon waved his hand at her. "Keep it then," he said, sounding disgusted.
Connie looked around to see if Ernie or Charlie was watching her. Both were in the
back, and she smiled, Charlie wasn't going to get the chance to steal this money.
She walked to the register and rang up the order, paying the eighteen dollar and
thirty-six cents out of her tip money, before slipping the hundred into her apron pocket
with the remainder of the day's tips.
The men were getting up to leave, and Javier looked back at her over his shoulder as
they walked out the diner's door. "Bye Connie. See you again soon, I
hope."
"Bye," she said, wishing that really was the truth. She knew she'd
never see him again, but he looked really good walking away. Her eyes lingered on his
muscular ass.
Connie looked after him longingly, wondering where they were going and what kind of
life Javier had. If she were a few years younger, and a hell of a lot bolder she would
run out there and ask Javier to take her with him. Anywhere but here, wherever that
gorgeous man was going that was where she wanted to be.
She watched from the window as they walked to a black van. Javier opened the
driver's side door, and once more before getting in he looked directly at her. His
tongue slipped from between his lips and he curled it suggestively, before giving her a
final beaming smile and climbing into the van. She couldn't see him anymore through
the dark tinted windows but she squinted and tried to anyway.
"You ever gonna refill Ben's coffee?" Ernie barked from behind the
counter.
She sighed and turned to get back to work. At least there was tomorrow to look forward
to, she had the day off. It wouldn't be much of a day off, however, the laundry had
to be done and she needed to go to the bank. She had to deposit some money into her
account so she could finally get the electric bill paid. That tip of over eighty dollars
was going to come in handy. As she absentmindedly walked to the counter she realized if
she went to the bank after work it would save her some time tomorrow.
Her thoughts drifted back to Javier as she poured Ben's coffee. Her wrist still
tingled from his fingers. She could only imagine what it would be like to be touched by
him, everywhere. He'd give her something nice to think about tonight before she went
to sleep. She tried to remember the last time she'd had sex. It had been a while,
and she was certain that sex with someone like Javier would be nothing like sex with Rich.
Funny how even though he said that sex with her was like burnt meatloaf, Rich never
managed to last for more than a few minutes.
"Slow day, huh, Connie?" Ben said, forcing her thoughts back to reality.
"Yeah Ben, even slower than usual."
"You look tired."
"I feel tired, I am tired. I'm so tired of my life." she admitted.
"Oh, Rich will come to his senses. You'll see, he'll be back begging
you to forgive him."
"I don't want him to come back," she said bluntly. "He can stay
there forever. I'm done with his sorry ass."
Ben chuckled, "Good for you, honey. If I was twenty years younger you'd be
in a heap of trouble girl."
She smiled at him. "If I was twenty years younger I'd get the hell out of
this town and never look back."
He patted her hand. "It's never too late for a fresh start, Connie."
"My get up and go got up and left a long time ago, Ben."
He shook his head. "I know what you mean."
Charlie walked past with a gray plastic basin full of dirty dishes. "Those three
guys didn't leave you a tip," he told her smugly.
She glanced at the clock and breathed a sigh of relief that it was quitting time.
"Yeah, well they don't all tip, do they Charlie?" she said, feigning
disappointment, as she took her purse out from under the counter. Fuck him! He was
probably disappointed there was nothing on the table for him to steal. She smiled thinking
about the money in her apron pocket.
"See you all on Thursday," she announced to no one in particular on her way
out the door.
Behind her she only heard Ben tell her goodbye. Screw Charlie and Ernie both! She
should just turn around and tell Ernie to try and find another waitress who wanted to work
in this dump. Oh, if she only could! She almost salivated at the thought of quitting.
Unfortunately, there weren't many other jobs available here and she wasn't
exactly qualified for anything but waitressing. She had started about the same time she
married Rich, never thinking it would end up being her lifetime career. Career! That was
a joke. Not many girls say 'when I grow up I want to be a waitress in a shithole
diner'.
It was windy outside, the leaves on the trees were fluttering, and the sky was
darkening. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Perfect! It had been sunny all day while
she was working, and now that she could be outside the rain was moving in. The cracked
plastic roof on the Jeep leaked, and she hoped she'd get home before the rains came.
She reconsidered the trip to the bank, but what the hell? She was only two blocks away.
It made perfect sense to go now. Besides, she had a hundred dollar bill to add to her
deposit! If she got a little wet it wouldn't kill her.
Pulling out of the dusty parking lot, she gave one last look at the diner before it
disappeared in the rearview mirror, wishing she never had to see it again. She switched
the stations on the radio until she found a song she liked, then turned it up.
The bank didn't look crowded, and luckily she found a space right near the door.
The rain hadn't started yet, but the sky was murky and clouds heavy with rain swirled
above her.
Inside there were was no line, and she walked over to the small podium on the side to
count her tips and fill out her deposit slip. She picked up the pen attached to the ball
link chain and began writing her account number on a blank deposit slip.
A deafening sound followed by a terrible explosion almost directly above her made her
jump. It was immediately followed by another blast further away. Glass from the
shattered lighting above her rained down, as someone shouted "Everybody face down on
the fucking floor, now!"
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a man wearing a black ski mask and waving a gun.
Another shot was fired and somewhere more glass shattered.
Her legs felt like they melted beneath her as she collapsed to the floor in terror.
She flopped forward onto her stomach pushing with her feet, trying to slide her body
beneath the podium.
"Don't you fucking move," an angry voice yelled. She didn't know
if those words were directed at her or not, but she instantly froze and lay completely
still.
"Nobody fucking look up," a loud voice ordered, and further away she heard
another man shouting at the teller to put money in a bag. "Get up and get the money!
Don't you fucking look at me, just put that money in the bag," he screamed over
and over. All their voices sounded strange, like they were forcing themselves to speak in
a way they normally wouldn't.
Just the idea that this was really happening was mind-numbing. Sprawled face down on
the cold marble floor bits of broken glass prickled and jagged her. She could feel her
left leg bleeding. The pounding of her heart echoed in her own ears. A black boot was
right beside her face now, as one of the men walked by her. Through half closed eyes she
watched it, hoping it would go away. It didn't, instead the man crouched down right
beside her. She kept her eyes on the floor but could see part of his leg out of the
corner of her eye. She could hear him breathing heavily beside her. She felt him touch
her hair and she pressed her face tighter against the floor. Glass bit into her forehead.
Finally the boot disappeared and she heard him walking forward crunching through the
glass. She turned her head in the other direction and rested her cheek against the
floor.
"I said don't fucking look at me!" someone shouted again.
The sound of another gunshot ripped though her ears then she heard a sickening thud.
"What the fuck did you shoot her for?" a surprised and somehow suddenly
familiar voice cried out. The 'R" at the end of the word 'her'
sounded strange.
"I told the bitch to quit looking at me! Grab the rest of that money and
let's get the fuck out of here!"
They had just shot someone, and from the sound of that thud the person who'd been
shot wasn't ever getting up again. Without thinking her eyes snapped open in shock
and horror.
There was a man standing only two feet away from where she was lying, a skinny form,
wearing baggy jeans. Even with the mask on she knew it was the boy, Luis, the one
who'd given her the hundred at the diner. He was looking right at her face, and she
squeezed her eyes tightly shut. He slowly walked toward where she lay. Even with her
eyes closed she knew he was approaching her. The glass crackled beneath his boots with
each step. When the sounds stopped she knew he was standing over her, and she could hear
the uncontrollable sobs escape her throat. He was going to kill her. He knew that
she'd realized who he was. Seconds ticked by and she heard nothing. In her mind she
could envision him with the gun pointed down at her, poised to put a bullet in the back of
her head.
She rolled onto her back holding her hands out in front of her.
"God, no. Please?" she cried staring up at the startled eyes above her. He
wasn't pointing the gun at her, and his eyes looked as terrified as she felt.
"¡Chingado! This is bad," Luis said.
"Let's go!" an agitated voice yelled as someone came running toward the
spot where she and the boy were.
She saw Luis' eyes shift and he gestured down at her.
"We have a big problem," he said in a trembling voice.
Javier towered over her, gun in hand, eyes as black as the mask he wore.
"Fuck," he muttered, as he stared down at her. He shook his head slowly.
"Connie," he said quietly. "Why'd you have to be here?"
His hand closed around her wrist and he jerked her to her feet.
She heard another voice behind them. "Shoot that fucking bitch!" It was the
coffee drinker, the same one who'd been mad that the skinny boy had given her all
that money.
Javier's arm curled around her waist and he pulled her back against him.
"No," he said. "Let's get out of here! Now!"
"She knows what we look like!" Ramon hissed.
"That's why I've got her," Javier said. "She's coming
with us." He bent his head down until his lips touched her ear. "I'm not
going to hurt you," he whispered. "Don't fight me, and don't
scream."
Connie went limp in his arms, and he carried her with ease. She felt her purse strap
slip from her arm and heard it hit the floor as he rushed toward the door. Numbly she
rested her head against his shoulder and didn't struggle. He smelled of cigarette
smoke, and his arm that encircled her was as hard as concrete.
He rushed along beside the bank carrying her as if she were a doll. The other men were
right behind them as they ran down the alley toward the big black van. The skies had
opened and the rain began pouring down as thunder rolled through the blackened sky.
Connie shifted against the man carrying her, the flat of her palm resting against his
chest. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her hand. The only other thing that
made this situation feel real was the cold rain beating against her skin.
Javier threw the van's back door open. "You drive Luis," he said
sounding far too calm for the situation. Connie felt herself pushed into the van, and she
tumbled to the floor. Javier got in behind her and slammed the door closed. It was dark
inside, the windows were covered with gray drapes, and a cloth partition separated the
back of the van from where the seats were.
Blinking her eyes in the dim lighting she gasped deep calming breaths. Javier grabbed
her from behind and pulled her back into his lap, his forearm against her throat.
He clicked his tongue. "Of all days for you to go to the bank, you had to fucking
go today, Connie!"
"Someone got shot," she said, unable to raise her trembling voice past a
whisper. "I heard them fall!" She choked on the lump in her throat.
"They're dead, aren't they?"
"I didn't do that!" he said defensively. "That wasn't
supposed to fucking happen!"
She leaned back limply against his hard body. She could feel him pulling off the ski
mask he'd been wearing. His breath was warm on her neck and it gave her an
involuntary chill. "You being there wasn't supposed to happen. I knew it was
you on the floor at the bank. I stopped beside you and looked at you, thinking about how
fucking much I wanted you."
He exhaled heavily. "Fuck, I wish Luis hadn't seen you. I wish you
hadn't seen us. Fuck!"
"I won't tell anyone I know what you look like," she said honestly.
"Even if I believe that Connie, Ramon never will, especially now. I brought you
with me to keep him from hurting you." He lowered his voice. "It's not
just the robberies now, he killed someone. He shot that fucking teller for no reason.
You don't think he would have shot you too?"
He shoved his hand into his front pocket and pulled out a pack of matches from
Ernie's Diner and pressed them into her hand.
"Open this."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
Connie flipped the matchbook open. Her name was written on the inside of the flap.
"I don't understand."
"I wanted to come see you again. I knew I'd remember your name, but
everything is so crazy right now I wrote it down just in case. I was going to call there
and talk to you, find out if you were serious about getting together."
She stared down at her name in disbelief. She had never really considered today that
he actually was going to come back and see her.
"I hoped I could see you when this was all over. When my life was normal
again."
"Why?"
"Because I want you Connie. You're so pretty. I wanted you from the second I
saw you."
She felt him nuzzle against her neck, and could hear him breathing.
"Jesus, you smell good," he said.
His hand trailed softly down her arm. "Your skin is so soft..." His voice
trailed to a whisper, "So soft and white."
Connie sat there on his lap in stunned silence. He couldn't be serious. They had
just robbed a bank and he was behaving like they were on a first date. She shifted on his
lap, aware that beneath her he had an erection. Despite everything she suddenly felt a
tingling thrill that he found her arousing.
She could smell him too. Wet from the rain, his skin smelled warm. Cigarettes, sweat,
and musk swirled into one unique scent that suited him.
In the front seat she could hear Ramon and Luis arguing about the teller at the bank.
It was Ramon who'd shot her. Ramon was ranting about Connie now, telling Luis she
should be dead too.
Fear surged through her entire body. She could feel the strength in Javier's
hands and arms, and feel the heat from his body, but she couldn't fully accept what
was happening.
He let her go and pushed her forward off of his lap. Behind her there were rustling
sounds then she could hear the sound of a tape being ripped from a roll.
"Put your hands behind your back," he said.
Numbly she complied, and he began taping her wrists together. She let the book of
matches fall from her hand.
"I'm not even trying to get away," she weakly protested as he bound her
wrists behind her.
"Not yet," he answered. "But you might not like what I'm planning
on doing to you right now. I think you probably will, but just in case we'll do this
my way.
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