Captured

The bell chimes as the door to the diner opens. A cool breeze sneaks through, chilling the air instantly.

I glance up from the table I'm scrubbing and notice one of the regulars hobble in. George.

“Man it sure is coming down out there.” The old man says, visibly releasing a shiver. He shakes the rain from his black umbrella and turns to face the room.

“Hey George,” I call, “Just sit wherever and I'll be right with you.”

“Sounds good.” He turns and heads to a distant table.

I smile to myself as he sits in the same spot he's been sitting in for years, patiently waiting for me to finish up. He's a creature of habit.

With the table done, I walk behind the counter to fix him a cup of coffee. On my way to the booth with the drink, I grab today's newspaper off its stand and set them both in front of George.

“Ah, read my mind,” he says looking up at me. A grateful smile lightens his face, “thanks hun.”

“Is there anything else I can get for you tonight?” I ask, returning his smile.

“No, this is all I need for now.” He grabs the newspaper, dismissing me.

I make my way back to the counter just as Harper comes in from her smoke break, clearly flustered. Intriguing.

She starts combing her fingers through her tousled pink hair, quickly bringing it into a bun at the top of her head. With a squat, she reaches beneath the counter and rifles through her bag to retrieve a compact mirror and lipstick.

I watch her wipe the smudged remains of her last application from her face and reapply the red cream to her lips.

I lean against the counter, a knowing smile playing on my lips. “Fun smoke break, Harper?”

She scowls at me as she stands, smoothing down the sides of her apron. Her eyes narrow. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

I laugh. “The hickies on the side of your neck, would suggest otherwise.”

Harper smacks her hand to her neck as if an insect bit her. “That mo fo. I specifically told him not to do that.”

“Apparently he was hungry,” I say in a serious tone.

She tugs her collar up, shooting me a glare, and stomps away with a spray bottle and rag. I laugh again. At least she's being productive while she fumes.

The bell on the door chimes again as I crouch to put the clean mugs away. Harper, still upset, greets them with the enthusiasm of a rock, and ushers them to a booth. I can't help but smile. Poor folks.

I stand and gather some dirty dishes to take to the kitchen.

My body freezes. The hair stands up on the back of my neck as something strong and dangerous permeates the air around me.

I slowly release a breath and slowly turn to the booth behind me. My eyebrows crease. Four roughly dressed men occupy the space, heads close together in hushed conversation. They're big, muscular and tall, each with a different shade of brown hair. Strange tattoos wind up their forearms, ending just below the elbow.

Strange.

As if sensing my gaze, a man near the window jerks his head up and locks a pair of dark eyes on mine. The others glance at him, then all turn to face me.

Shit.

I quickly turn around and grab a rag, pretending to be wiping the counters.

...I gasp as he leans into me, hands bringing my hips firmly against his body. His nose glides along my neck and into my hair. He inhales deeply, softly biting the sensitive skin behind my ear. A shiver rolls down my spine…

I snap my eyes open and brace my hands against the counter.

WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!

A creepy chuckle sounds behind me. My skin prickles in warning. I slowly turn my head back to the booth. All four men are reclined against the seats, leering at me.

I feel the blood instantly drain from my face. I have to get out of here.

“Harper I'm going on break!” I don't check to see if she hears me before I bolt through the kitchen door and hastily make my way outside.

The cold air greets me like a punch to the face. I place my hands on my knees, breathing hard.

What just happened?