If these magazines only knew how many lives they almost tear apart with their fabricated stories and false accusations. What a pathetic way to make a buck. I hated all of them and everyone who worked for them.

“You have a nice, safe trip, Miss Taryn!” Jimmy Pop wished me well.

“Thank you Jimmy,” I softly said, giving him a brief smile for his kindness. He had his camera pointing down; he was the only photographer to leave me a moment of peace. Since I was leaving, the three photographers departed in the opposite direction. They had no reason to hang around my door any longer.

I rolled my suitcase down the slushy asphalt, pausing at the mouth of the alley where the snowplow had made mounds of dirty, watery snow. I wanted to keep my suitcase clean and dry and this small trek down the alley was not helping. I took my time walking the last few feet that would put me in the street; the cold February air had caused some of the melting snow to refreeze and I didn’t want to have my picture taken slipping on the ice and falling down. That would be embarrassing for sure.

I lifted my suitcase over a small pile of snow and glanced up and down Mulberry Street for traffic.

Terror - absolute terror - blazed through me from the sight that my eyes took in. I froze in place, stifling the urge to scream.

Adrenaline coursed into my veins when I saw her, Angelica, sitting in her old, blue Plymouth Gran Fury not more than sixty feet from where I stood. The fear she incited slid through me like a hot knife in warm butter; she was out of prison and waiting for me.

Our eyes made contact; I could feel her hatred for me blast through the air and strike me where I stood, gluing my feet to the ground. This would be her moment, the time that she’d been waiting for, to finally take me out of the picture.

I saw her hand reach up and pull the gear shifter down to put her car in drive. So much for slicing me into pieces. The thick steel bumper and crushing weight of her old car would flatten me like a steamroller. She pulled the old Plymouth away from the curb; her car slowly rolled to the stop sign. My mind did the quick mental calculation to determine whether I could make it across the slushy, icy street dragging my suitcase before she could run me down. I was not safe on the sidewalk either and I was too far away from my back door to run; besides, I had a plane to catch. I had no choice; my car across the street in the lot would be my only sanctuary.

My eyes were locked on hers as I stepped out into the street; I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of looking away if she was going to run me down. I would not go out being a coward.

I was almost halfway across the street, but she hadn’t moved an inch. Why isn’t she speeding at me? I expected her to mash her foot down on the gas pedal and careen her car in my direction.

I allowed my eyes one brief glance at the opposing sidewalk when I noticed the silver streak in front of my eyes. If she didn’t move, why do I hear tires screeching?

The searing pain in my stomach was what I felt first; pain like I had never felt before in my life. The battering ram that struck me instantly knocked the air out of my lungs. My fingers peeled away from the handle of my suitcase without any conscious effort on my part. I felt my chin smack down with force on a cold, flat surface. The contact made my cheek smear on the blur of shimmery silver.

Just like the time when I had watched Ryan film his fight sequence, I had the sensation of ropes pulling me sideways, followed by the feeling of flying. Why am I rolling?

The pain returned; a new pain this time cracked into my left hand and shot all the way up my arm, followed by a painful smack in the head.

Instantly I was cold and wet, watching my life pass before my eyes.

The last thing I remember was hearing the jingling sound of my collection of keys when they landed on the ground.

Then… everything went black.

Chapter 31 - Broadsided

I heard the dark shadow whisper “she’s not breathing” before his lips pressed into mine. The shadow’s warm breath was stale and lifeless, and tasted like a mixture of blood and cigarettes. I felt the shadow’s strength when he touched my face, pinching my nose with force.

Ow, that hurts! Be gentle!

The wind that he blew into my chest burned my lungs like fire.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” a female voice cried out. Her halo glowed like a sparkling rainbow around her head. “I tried to stop!” she sobbed.

Don’t worry heavenly angel. It’s okay! I tried to say, but no words came from my mouth. I wanted to calm her, stop her from crying. Why can’t I speak to her?

“Miss Taryn!” the male voice cried, blowing another gust of searing wind into my chest. His third gust filled my soul; I felt my breast rise to the sky towards the light. The wind scorched me from inside and I squeezed my eyes tight from the pain.

Everything was dark again; my body craved new air. My mouth and eyes flew open when my lungs pulled in a sharp breath on their own. I gasped repeatedly for more air; it couldn’t come into my body quick enough.

Dazed and disoriented, my eyes tried to refocus on all the faces that looked down at me. Some faces were sideways, some were upside down.

How peculiar! I tried to reason with these new visions but the burn in my chest and the taste of blood in my mouth overpowered those thoughts. Who are these people? Why am I lying in the street?

I turned my head to see who was talking to me. It was Jimmy Pop; he was kneeling next to me.

“Oh Miss Taryn. Oi!” he cried.

“Oh Miss Taryn! Stop taking pictures of her!” Jimmy yelled. He tried to shield my body with his own.

I wanted to get up; I didn’t want to be laying in the cold snow and the street. When I tried to move, the pain blasted in my gut and radiated out towards my hips.

In the distance I could hear the screaming sound of sirens; the noise was coming towards me.

“Don’t move, don’t move! Stay still!” another voice shouted at me.

The shrill of sirens was more pronounced now. Their tones changed as they approached. I could see the red and blue flashing lights reflecting off the puddles on the wet street.

“Jimmy,” I choked. “Jimmy.” The blood in my mouth clogged my throat.

I looked at the old, Italian man kneeling next to me; his eyes were wrinkled and wet with tears.

“My purse…” I garbled. “Phone. Call Ryan.”

“Move back, everyone move back,” I heard a man shouting. A new face appeared in my vision; this one too was upside down. I felt the leather of his gloves when he wrapped his fingers around the sides of my head. Even though his face was reversed, he still looked familiar.