Her Voice, His Heart

The band played on while the man sat listening, his eyes fixed on the beautiful woman behind the microphone. He had been here every night that the young woman with auburn hair sang her songs of passion and love. She had the voice of a siren, soft and seductive, capturing and drinking in the man’s full attention until he was little more than a mindless jumble of hormones.

Her name was Mandy, and she was simply beautiful. She was tall, standing at five feet ten inches, and he estimated her to weigh around a hundred and twenty pounds. Her hair was long and shone like diamonds in the lights above her. Her eyes were the color of the ocean after a storm - deep blue with just a hint of green and slightly hooded to make them appear as if she were whispering a silent invitation to join her in the bedroom. Everything about her face was perfect, from her slender, sculpted nose to her heart-shaped face with the small cleft in her chin.

Declan had attempted to speak with her multiple times, sending her expensive flowers and imported wine after her performances. He even went so far as to invite her to supper at the town’s most expensive restaurant, yet each time, she turned him down. He didn’t know whether she was aware of who he was, but he was growing increasingly frustrated each time she rejected him.

He'd never had to work this hard to gain a woman’s attention before. As one of Texas’s most eligible bachelors, he had always had his choice of women. His looks alone drew the eye of the more delicate sex, while his firm muscles and penetrating blue eyes had them drooling before he had the chance to say ‘hello’.

As the son of one of the country’s richest men, Declan Marston also had the reputation of a playboy. Until eight months ago, he was known to have at least one sexual encounter a night, most nights with as many as three. After his brother, Jason, was killed, he found himself thrust into the padded seat of Marston Oil’s CEO’s chair.

Since burying his brother, their father felt it was time for his sole remaining son to put his lust on the back burner and step up to the plate. He needed to settle down and provide an heir for the ten-billion-dollar-a-year company his family had established over a hundred and twenty years ago. That meant finding someone he could tolerate spending his life with, not just a long weekend in the Alps.

It wasn’t so much that Declan didn’t want his father’s company. In truth, he had been better suited to run the business than his older brother was, but he was only nineteen when their father decided to retire from the company. It was only logical that his eldest son take command of his empire.

Unfortunately, Jason wasn’t as settled as their father would have preferred, and he found his retirement less than full-time. His son wasn’t interested in running the company, despite his father’s insistence that he put his college degree to use. Sports and women were all Jason thought about. He had spent four years on the high school football team before going to college, where he continued playing. It had been his goal to be a professional player, but fate had other ideas.

During his third year of college, he was playing in the last game of the season when he blew out his knee. It not only took him out of the game for the rest of the year, but also resulted in him having four surgeries, which left him with a permanent limp. Because of the extent of his injury, he was forced to give up his dreams, but that didn’t mean he was ready to sit behind a desk.

Jason barely earned enough credits to graduate from college and spent every spare minute he had skiing, swimming, riding horses, or bedding every woman he could get his hands on. Sports, booze, and women were all he could think about. If he wasn’t going out to clubs, he was playing on some court somewhere. Whether it was pickleball, tennis, baseball, or basketball, he was playing some sport.

Two years ago, he convinced his father to sponsor three ball teams and two NASCAR drivers, giving him an excuse to remain active in his preferred lifestyle. He may not have been able to play football anymore, but that didn’t stop him from participating in multiple water sports. It was his addiction to sports that was his eventual undoing.

Last year, during the July Fourth holiday, he took the family yacht out with friends, where they went scuba diving, swimming, and jet skiing. Everything was going fine with parties, skinny dipping, and alcohol. Two days into his week-long binge, he decided to take the jet skis out. After spending the night in the arms of two women, he hit the water as soon as the sun rose.

When his body was returned to shore, it was determined that he had four times the legal limit of alcohol in his system, along with high levels of cocaine. It caused a great deal of embarrassment for his father and led the elder Marston to recruit his youngest son to take over the company. Now at the age of twenty-six, Declan found himself forced to occupy the chair, the office, and the headaches that went along with the job.

As a graduate of Yale, Declan held a bachelor’s degree in liberal arts with a major in business. He knew what was necessary to run the company, how to make a profit, and better still, how to rule the board with an iron fist. He was a tough businessman, and since taking over the position his brother had left vacant, their stocks had risen by six points.

Declan always got whatever he set his sights on, whether it was a car, a boat, or even a woman. Despite his money, his looks, his exclusive upbringing, and even his reputation as a passionate lover, the auburn-haired beauty had rejected him time and again. It was enough to infuriate him and make him determined to win the game of seduction.

Mandy Andrews was an energetic college student working her way through the final few weeks of her music degree as a singer. She loved music. It was her passion and the only thing she ever thought about. She played the clarinet, the piano, and the harp, and she would often teach all three on her days off from singing at the club. She had a scholarship to help pay for her tuition, yet, due to her mother’s ailing health, she was forced to complete her last quarter online. Her parents couldn’t afford the rent for the small apartment, forcing her to find a job to support herself.

It didn’t discourage her, though. She had made it through nearly four years of college, and she wasn’t about to stop now, even though she had to work to pay for her last two credits. She was going to succeed and graduate with her classmates in two weeks. She only hoped her mother would be there to see it.

Ellen Andrews had been a teenage mother, having gotten pregnant during her senior year of high school. She completed her education through night school while raising a baby with her then-husband, Lawrence Spenser. After two years, the marriage failed, leaving Ellen to support her child as an instructor at a local hair college and work part-time as a nail specialist. It didn’t make them rich by any means, but it did provide them with food and paid for a one-bedroom apartment.

Lawrence Spenser was much like the man who kept asking Mandy out. He had been a playboy, bedding every woman he could find. In high school, he was very popular. He was good-looking, athletic, and intelligent. He just chose to play rather than devote his time to improving his lifestyle.

Mandy was barely four years old when her mother met Patrick Andrews, a hard-working accountant with a home, a bank account, and two cars. He fell instantly in love with Ellen, and four months after meeting her, he married her. Two years later, he adopted Mandy. Despite visits with Lawrence, the child considered her stepfather to be her only father.

After seventeen years of marriage, Ellen learned she had non-smoker’s lung cancer caused by the imported chemicals her salon used for nails. Six months later, she now had heart failure to add to the disease, putting her through chemotherapy and placing her on the donor list for both a heart and lung transplant.

Once an active woman and mother of two, Ellen was now a frail woman of forty. She had withered away to little more than a skeleton. She was on the transplant list, yet it didn’t look like she would live long enough to receive even one of her much-needed organs. The past year had been significantly hard on her, forcing her to stay in bed on oxygen with a nurse tending to her needs.

Patrick Andrews was a devoted husband to Ellen, though the need to take her to doctor appointments and chemotherapy sessions had cost him four jobs in the past two years. The only job he was able to find that would work around his schedule was that of a pizza delivery driver. It didn’t make much money, but it was enough to keep a roof over their heads and pay for the nurse his wife needed.

Because of their mother’s condition and their father’s lack of stable income, Mandy’s younger brother, Foster, had dropped out of school and was working two jobs to help his parents. His actions only increased their parents’ concern and stress, and the last thing Mandy wanted was to tell them she was struggling to stay in school. The scholarship she had earned only covered in-person classes, making her last quarter a financial burden she couldn’t allow her parents to pay for.

Three more weeks and another eight thousand dollars, and then she’d be finished. She only hoped adding two nights a week at the club as a waitress would help offset the cost she would have to pay. She made good money in tips, but her salary went toward her apartment rent. Fortunately, by taking her classes online, she was able to move away from the University of Texas at Austin and to the larger city of Dallas.

With the help of her friend from college, Mandy landed the job at the upscale club, singing on the weekends. She loved singing and only wished the band were there during the week. She would have worked seven days a week if it meant she could do it with her group.

Like any young band, the group hoped to make it big, but Mandy hoped to become an instructor. As much as she loved singing, and that was a lot, it paled in comparison to the love she had for playing the piano. When she was younger, her dream was to join the New York Philharmonic as a professional pianist, but that all changed when her mother became ill.

Now, all she could think about was landing a full-time job as a music instructor. It wouldn’t offer the kind of money she was currently making, but it was stable and would offer her a better future than working at the club did. It would also give her a way of helping her parents financially. If she were able to instruct during the week and sing on the weekends, she’d be able to help pay for her mother’s chemotherapy and hopefully help her father relieve some stress.

Finishing the second show of the night, Mandy returned to the back rooms set up for the band. She was hot and thirsty and desperately wanted a shower. It was Saturday, which meant three shows followed by a long day off for studying. So far that night, she had passed up two invitations to join men for drinks and told her band she couldn’t hang out with them. She had to concentrate on her homework. It was her main focus and all she could think about.

Fortunately, her degree didn’t require a dissertation like she had to write for her bachelor’s degree. Instead, she would be required to play three complicated numbers, all of which she spent her days off practicing on her small tabletop keyboard. Far from the grand piano she would play during class, but it was sufficient for her to practice with.

Taking a bottle of water from the small fridge in the dressing room, she sat down on the sofa to cool off. Imagene and Summer, the other two female singers for the band, had decided to accept drink offers from customers, allowing her some time alone to decompress. She closed her eyes and lay her head back against the thin cushion on the small sofa. All evening long, she had fought the urge to stare at the handsome man who had been there since they started playing at 7:00.

She had seen Declan Marston in the audience, but it wasn’t anything unusual. He’d been there every weekend she worked and had gone out of his way to make his presence known to her. As much as she would love a night of distraction the man could offer her, she knew she couldn’t allow him to persuade her. All of her energy was focused on her music and schoolwork. Even a single evening away from it would prove a distraction that could cost her a week to make up, and she didn’t have that much time left before graduation.

Thinking about the man, she found herself frowning. Why he continued to send her flowers when she refused him time after time was confusing. Sshe knew he wasn’t lacking companionship. The first night he’d come in happened to be the first night she sang, and he had a beautiful young blonde on his arm.

Since then, however, he’d been coming in unaccompanied by female companionship and sat instead with the men she had heard were his bodyguards. She could only assume that a man worth as much money as he was meant he would have to have someone around to protect him. With the two burly men who sat beside him, she knew it would take a lot of guts to try to bypass them to get to their boss.

Mandy had heard the rumors of Declan Marston’s nocturnal activities since he became front-page news ten months ago. It was said that he had a private harem of women he kept exclusively for his sexual appetite. It was estimated that he had anywhere from three to six women and a private compound on the grounds of his multimillion-dollar mansion. It was further rumored that he had a secret room where he would take his women, whose only job was to serve him and satisfy his dark, lustful cravings. With that knowledge out in the open, she knew the last thing the man would want would be the music nerd from Austin, Texas.

Imogene teased her relentlessly about not taking the man up on his offers. Mandy knew if he were to ask either Summer or Imogene out, they’d have stopped the earth from rotating to accept. Even Danny, the head male performer and her closest personal friend, would be willing to take the man up on his offer.

Setting her nearly empty bottle on the small table beside the sofa, Mandy stood and walked into the bathroom. The club provided a three-piece bathroom for the women, along with a long bench they used as a vanity with lit mirrors. It made changing during the performance easy and comfortable. It also gave them a way to take a quick shower between sets.

Locking the door behind her, Mandy took the spray bottle of bleach and sprayed the shower floor before stripping out of the short miniskirt she’d worn for her last number. She turned on the small ceiling fan, then wrapped her hair on the top of her head. She brushed her teeth and removed her makeup, then rinsed out the shower before stepping into it. Imogene would tease her relentlessly about her compulsion to be germ-free, but she didn’t want to spend a night singing when all she could think about was the athlete’s foot itching inside her high heels.

It took her barely five minutes to scrub her body and wash her face. Wrapping the thick towel around her slender frame, she stepped out of the bathroom and back into the dressing room. Imogene and Summer hadn’t returned yet, which meant they’d be rushing to get dressed and freshen their makeup before the next performance. It was always like that with those two, but not for Mandy. She was a workaholic and demanded that obligations come first before having fun.

Walking to the rack of clothes waiting for them, she removed the gown necessary for the first number. They had three changes of clothes for every performance, and the last performance of the night was more romantic and a bit slower than the previous two. It offered lovers who were trying to make a hookup the first step towards making the score. Songs of love, passion, and loss made for quiet dancing among those who took to the floor. More than once, she had seen the men caressing and feeling up the women with them as they tried advancing their attempts.

Taking the long sapphire blue evening gown with the plunging neckline off the hanger, she returned to the bathroom to dress. She was thankful that this was the last performance for the week. She had been so stressed out with homework that she’d barely had time to rehearse, and she was certain it showed in her solos. Sure, she knew the numbers, but she was a perfectionist. If she were off even by an eighth of a measure, it would drive her crazy for days.

Mandy stepped into the sequined gown and then looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. She loved this gown. The cut, the way it hung across her curves, the way it sparkled, all made her feel as rich as the handsome man who had been staring at her all evening. She unwrapped her hair and ran her brush through it to smooth the long tresses, then closed her eyes as she leaned on the pedestal sink.

It wasn’t so much that she didn’t want to date that she rejected the man’s offers. In fact, she missed dating and having more than a friend in a man, but school had been so stressful that she gave up hope of ever getting to know anyone. She had started college directly out of high school, then got her bachelor’s degree in eighteen months instead of twenty-four, simply by adding courses and attending classes year-round. It had been hard, and at times a struggle, especially when learning the history of music from Professor “Charming” Charman, as the students called him. He was strict and disciplined, allowing no room for fooling around or making jokes, making the course even more boring than it would be with another professor.

The last time she could remember going out on a date was the night she graduated from high school. She’d been homecoming queen, and Carver Rawson had been the homecoming king. He insisted on dancing every dance with her, even though she had a date. At the last dance of the evening, he offered her a drink afterward, and within a few minutes she found herself very dizzy and disoriented.

Her best friend, Cindy Bernstein, had come to her rescue after Carver tried to get her into his Jeep. She took her back to her place, and when she woke up the next morning, she was in the guest room bed, naked. Her friend told her what had happened and told her she’d brought her back here instead of to her own house, afraid of what her father would do to Carver. The next few weeks were frustrating as she tried to remember what had happened that night. Time passed by with just a few scattered memories, and none of them were very pleasant or anything she wanted to remember.

Moving back into the dressing room, Mandy sat down at the vanity and removed her cosmetics bag as the door opened and Imogene and Summer came in. They were filled with energy, having made dates with the men who offered them drinks after the show. It wasn’t unusual for them to pick up guys after the performances, so the most Mandy had to do was smile and congratulate them.

The two began stripping out of the miniskirts they wore for the last number of the previous performance when a knock sounded at the door. Mandy looked at the two, who seemed oblivious to the fact that they had company, then walked to the barrier and opened it just enough to see the handsome man in the hallway. Drawing a deep breath, she forced herself to smile, then sighed deeply when she saw the bouquet of red roses in his hands.

“Good evening, Mandy,” Declan said in greeting, a wide smile on his full, kissable lips. “These are for you.”

“Thank you - again - Mr. Marston,” she said, opening the door wide enough to accept them. “You shouldn’t be back here. The backstage is forbidden to customers.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he told her with a seductive smile. “But I’m not a customer. I’m the new owner.”

“You’re the new…owner?” she asked hesitantly, a frown pulling on her slender brows. “I wasn’t aware the club was up for sale.”

“When a Marston asks to purchase an establishment, rarely are they refused,” he told her.

“I see,” she told him with a look of disapproval. “Well, owner or not, the girls are not decent, and we have another performance to prepare for. I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”

“Have supper with me,” he told her, more as a demand than a question.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Marston, but as I’ve told you before, I have other plans,” she told him with a deep sigh. “Thank you for the offer, but I must refuse.”

“Have I offended you in some way?” he asked her boldly. “It seems you are always busy whenever I ask you out. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were involved or gay.”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“I’ve asked,” he told her honestly. “I think I deserve an explanation. This is far from the first time I’ve asked you out on a date.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Marston, but I don’t believe I need to justify my rejection to you, or anyone for that matter,” Mandy told him, handing him back the flowers. “The simple fact is I’m not available. Have a nice evening.”

Turning, she closed the door and locked it, leaving the man in the hallway seething. He’d never been rejected by a woman before, and he was no longer amused by it. He’d purchased this club as a personal investment because of her, and though the prospect of a good return was more than a promise, he wasn’t at all pleased by the woman’s attitude.

Declan turned on his heel, tossing the flowers to a table near the hallway’s entrance, then walked directly up to his men. If the little minx wanted to play games, then he was going to prove he held the trump card. He’d already devised a plan to gain her affections before coming here tonight, but quickly dismissed it. Now, he was angry enough to make the arrangements to carry out his plan.

“We’ve played this game her way long enough. Now it’s time I take control,” he told the two men who waited for him at the table he’d reserved. “I have a job for you two.”

They watched him pick up his drink and down the last of it before turning and walking toward the club’s exit. He had other ideas for how this evening would end, and he wasn’t about to allow the little auburn-haired beauty to interrupt them.

****

“I can’t believe you rejected him again,” Imogene said. “If I had a billionaire lusting after me, I’d take full advantage of it.”

“I’m sure you would, but he’s too arrogant and far too uppity for me,” Mandy told the attractive dark-skinned woman.

“As the new owner, he could cause problems for you,” Summer warned. “If you keep rejecting him, he could find reason to fire you.”

“That’s illegal, and I’m sure he knows it,” she told the two. “It’s sexual harassment. If he really is the owner, then he needs to watch his own step. One wrong move on his part and I can have him arrested, and believe me, I’ll do it if he’s not careful.”

“If you say so,” Imogene commented. “Frankly, I wouldn’t object if he asked me out.”

“You know he’s been coming here every weekend since you started and has asked everyone about you,” Summer said, running the brush through her long red hair.

“Who has he asked?” Mandy asked her, turning around in her chair in front of the vanity to look at the two.

“Us for one,” she told her, then frowned. “Or is it us for two? Anyway, he asked us if anyone was waiting at home for you, and we told him, ‘No.’ We assured him you were single and available.”

“Didn’t it occur to you to tell him I was involved with someone?” Mandy demanded.

“Why would it?” Imogene answered, coming out of the bathroom wearing a matching sapphire gown.

“Because maybe I’m not interested in the guy,” she snapped, then turned back to her reflection to finish her makeup. “Despite his good looks, he’s an arrogant, self-absorbed, spoiled brat. He spends money like it’s water and assumes he can buy anyone he wants. He’s a conceited rich jerk.”

“Yeah, isn’t it great?” Summer said with a wide smile. “Can you imagine what kind of weekend you’d have with that man?”

“I can, which is why I keep telling him ‘No’,” Mandy commented. “The guy is used to getting his way, and he buys anything he wants.”

“That’s probably true,” Imogene said, coming to sit beside her at the vanity. “He paid three times what the club is worth. That new bartender, what’s his name - Dustin, or Justin, something like that - said he bought it because of you.”

“That’s a good reason to quit,” Mandy grumbled.

“You can’t quit, remember?” Summer told her, sitting on the opposite side of her. “You still have to pay for your school. If you quit now, what kind of job would you do?”

“There aren’t a lot of jobs willing to work around your crazy school schedule,” Imogene added. “Besides, maybe he’ll cut his board meetings short so he can come watch us rehearse. I already need a cold shower with him in the audience. I’d need two if he watched our rehearsals as well.”

“I have a suggestion,” Mandy told them, gluing the fake lashes across her natural ones. “Why don’t you tell him you’ll be willing to kiss his wounded ego better for him?”

“Because he doesn’t want me. He wants you,” the dark woman said, coating her lips with the deep red lipstick. “Besides, I’ve already tried. I’d say he wasn’t into dark chocolate, but I’ve seen him taking a bite out of it before.”

“I doubt there’s anything he wouldn’t sink his teeth into, including a few cream puffs,” Mandy grumbled.

“Naw, he’s straight,” Summer said. “Danny already tried and got turned down flat.”

“I’m working in a group of perverts and degenerates,” Mandy grumbled.

“Oh, come on,” Summer laughed. “Are you seriously going to tell us that a man like Declan Marston isn’t worth losing your V-card over?”

“What makes you think I’m a virgin?” she asked, frowning as the other two laughed.

“Please,” Imogene scoffed. “You have it written all over your face.”

“I think we should probably get ready for the next number,” Mandy sighed. “I don’t think the new owner would appreciate it if the show didn’t go on as scheduled.”

Mandy slipped on her heels, then stood up and walked to the closet to retrieve the costume jewelry they wore during their performances. She fastened the large fake sapphires and rhinestones around her neck before slipping on the elastic bracelet of matching stones. She fastened the earrings in her ears, then turned to inspect her appearance in the mirror behind the vanity bench.

It was a pity their costumes were fake, she thought. She had to admit that she liked how she looked. With her long hair hanging down her shoulders and her high heels, she looked amazing. The slit in the gown showed off her leg from mid-thigh to ankle. Having a firm, attractive figure had always been something she took pride in. She had been a cheerleader in high school and worked out nearly as much as she practiced her piano. She liked how she looked in dresses and wore them as often as she could. It didn’t matter what kind they were. Long or short, flowy or skinny, she just liked dresses.

Her mother once told her that she refused to wear pants or even shorts as a child. Every time they went camping or fishing, she wore a dress over her jeans that her mother made her put on. So long as she could have lace and bows, she was happy and content. Even her many dolls had dresses. There wasn’t a single outfit among the dozen or so Barbie Dolls she had that wasn’t a dress.

“Are you ready to knock those expensive socks off that billionaire?” Imogene asked, standing from the vanity after slipping her feet into the heels.

“I’d rather he kept them on, if it’s all the same to you,” she told her friend.

“Not me,” Summer giggled. “I wonder if he needs anyone new for his harem. The idea of spending a couple of hours in heated, perverted sex sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Maybe we should suggest it,” Imogene said, smiling brightly and revealing straight white teeth. “I wouldn’t mind joining him for a few sessions.”

“You two are hopeless,” Mandy grumbled, stepping out of the door. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that he’s a walking poster boy for STDs?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of condoms?” Summer asked.

“And there’s a treatment for just about everything,” Imogene added, closing the door behind them.

“Treatment or not, it’s not worth it if you ask me,” Mandy assured them.

“Hey, look,” Summer said, picking up the roses lying on the table. “Where’d these come from?”

“They look like the ones your Romeo tried giving me,” Mandy answered, frowning. “I wonder why they’re here.”

“You must have really upset him this time,” Imogene said in a quiet voice as the men of the band began playing a slow, romantic tune. “I’d be careful if I were you, Mandy. He’s the new owner, and as much fun as it is to tease about what he’s capable of doing, you could lose your job.”

“He can’t fire me because I won’t go out with him,” Mandy assured them. “If he even tried, I’d sue the expensive pants off the jerk.”

“Maybe you’d get enough money to pay off your schooling,” Summer whispered.

“But seriously, Mandy,” Imogene said, the look on her face taking on a stern expression. “Be careful. I don’t think a man like Declan Marston is one you want to play games with.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” Mandy told them confidently, though her insides were twisting in fear. “I can handle Mr. Wonderful, despite how many people he buys. He’s just a big bully, and I hate bullies.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” the dark woman said, following Summer out of the hallway.

“So do I,” she whispered, looking at the flowers one last time.

****

The night wore on as usual, with one small exception. The handsome man who had been in attendance every weekend, for every show, was absent. Mandy had to wonder whether she had finally made her position clear and he had given up trying to convince her to go out with him, returning to his harem.

She packed up her makeup kit in her bag, along with her nylons and outfits she would need to iron and freshen up for next week's performances, while Imogene and Summer talked about their upcoming dates. Danny stopped by their dressing room to see if they were ready to leave, then escorted them to their cars. It had been a long-standing argument that the women didn't leave the building without proper escorts. Anything could happen in a bar parking lot, regardless of how expensive and exclusive it may have been.

Mandy told her friends good night, then promised to call Danny on Monday after her music theory test. He needed to go shopping for new shoes, and he loved shopping with her. The two of them had the same taste in clothes and designers, and they loved shopping together. They would look through the shop windows and dream about one day having the money to purchase a five-thousand-dollar outfit, or a two-thousand-dollar pair of shoes.

Starting the engine of her thirty-year-old Honda Civic, Mandy pulled away from the club, waving once more as the others left, each one going in a different direction. She drove for two miles with Summer behind her, then waved like usual when she turned at the light. Her apartment was in the Fort Worth area, which made her drive home a little longer than the others', but it was the cheapest option she could find. Maybe it wasn't in a great upscale neighborhood like Danny and his partner lived in, but with her security system on her door and windows, and the mace in her pocket, she felt comfortable enough to climb the two sets of stairs in the dark.

Mandy jumped on I-30 and headed home, taking it the last fifteen miles to her apartment. The night was clear, and the weather was warmer than normal for April, so she rolled her window down to enjoy it. She pulled to a stop at the stoplight and paused only a moment before it turned green, then turned the corner towards Walmart. Her apartment was right behind the large store, making it easy to go shopping and get groceries.

Drawing a deep breath, she yawned, then gasped and swerved off the road to avoid hitting the SUV. It was just her dumb luck to have someone try to cut her off only five minutes from her apartment, not to mention the dumb jerk ran her into a sand pile filled with cactus.

She watched as the dark SUV pulled to the side. With a skip in her pulse, she tried to pull her car back onto the road. She wasn't in the mood for a confrontation with the driver. It had been his fault she was nearly killed, but now her bald tires were stuck. Maneuvering through the dirt and sand was almost impossible. She hit the gas again, only to have her tires spin under the weight of her small car, sinking her further into the loose soil.

Glancing up, she saw two large figures climb out of the vehicle and felt her heart begin to race. She removed the mace from her pocket and held it in her hand as she began rocking the car back and forth.

She was trying to get it unstuck when the two men came closer. Hidden in the dark, moonless skies, their faces obscured by shadows only added to her fears and made her stomp on the gas pedal harder. The closer they came, the more frantically she tried to get her car unstuck, and then they were right beside her, one man reaching in the driver's window.

Without thinking, she raised the can of mace and sprayed it, then began coughing and sputtering on the fumes. It sprayed the man in the face, but the pungent odor bounced back and hit her. The man stepped back, coughing and gasping as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

Before she could think to react, the second man pulled the passenger door open and placed a cloth across her mouth and nose. She tried to spray the can again, but instantly felt the darkness of unconsciousness swell up around her before she succumbed to it. Now she was at the mercy of these two, alone and unconscious.