She glanced over her shoulder at the big man, feeling his eyes burn into her.
He
was a very big man, and she felt the small hairs on the back of her
neck rise as she noticed his brutal features, the prognathous jut of his
simian jaw, the heavy brows above his cruel eyes. What would she do if
he called out, ordering her to stop? His uniform gave him the authority
to do anything he wanted to her. Her eyes flicked nervously way, and
back. There was nowhere to go, no place to run. Running would be the
worst thing she could do, anyway. As long as she tried not to attract
his attention, perhaps he would let her go.
He
was still watching, his small eyes boring into her. She knew she was
pretty, prettier than was probably good for her, she’d long grown used
to being watched by men. But this wasn’t the harmless ogling that she’d
endured since her teenage years. This man’s stare was nothing like that.
She didn’t feel like a woman under that stare; she felt like a lab
specimen pinned to a dissection board.
Her
mouth was dry, her heart hammering, and her stomach clenched with
tension. She felt her knees trembling, and was afraid that she would
sway on her legs, her body betraying her with the mark of weakness. From
the corner of her eye, she saw him turn towards her, raise a hand. This
was it, she thought, and resigned herself. Whatever he did to her now, it would be better than this terrifying waiting.
“Ma’am,” he said. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she whispered, automatically. “I’m OK.”
“Then will you move on, please. You’re holding up the line.”
Outside
the terminal building, she sank back into the taxi and sighed. In a few
minutes, she would be in the hotel. That was the last time, she
thought. Never again, she promised. But that was what she’d told herself
last time, and the time before that.
Inside her churning stomach, one of the sachets of heroin burst open.
Oh crap, you took me on a serious roller coaster ride here, Bill. I loved it!
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