Out of Time 01 - Out of Time

feeling contrite. But this was Simon Cross after all. The same man who’d just two nights before rejected and humiliated her. The same man who had nothing more to say than that he was sorry.
She’d fooled herself into believing he was something he wasn’t and paid the price. Working at Charlie’s used to be fun, but now it was all she could do to keep a smile plastered on her face for the customers. It wasn’t bad enough that she had to work with him all night, but the walk home was unbearable. Once they were in the room, she could crawl into bed, hide in the darkness. But the silence and awkwardness of walking home on the deserted streets was strangely too intimate.
    Tonight she was lucky, it was bank night. Growing up around pool halls and race tracks, Elizabeth knew what that really meant. Banks, the kind Charlie and some of her father’s friends used, were no more than glorified bookies. A safe house to store your cash. The locations changed to keep the bad guys and the feds guessing. It was a risky way to handle money, but when you made your living under the table, it came with the territory.
    If she could make the run with Lester the bouncer, then he could walk her on to the apartment, and she could avoid the death march with Simon. It was a good plan. Of course, convincing Charlie wasn’t so easy. He rejected the idea at first. He wasn’t too crazy about letting her go to the safe house. Guns, money, and a pretty girl—nothing good ever came out of that mix. She promised to stay out of the way, but he wouldn’t budge. When she pushed out her lower lip in her patented pout, his resolve began to weaken. She knew it was dirty pool, using her feminine wiles, but what good were wiles unless you used them now and again? Finally, Charlie agreed, the old softie, but only if she did everything Lester told her.
    For his part, Simon accepted her announcement with resignation. She’d expected a lecture, or, at the very least a disapproving glare. He simply nodded and asked her to be careful. With one last significant look at Lester, he left to walk home alone. For a brief second, Elizabeth wanted to go after him, but thankfully the moment of madness passed.
    Once the money was bundled, she and Lester started out. The strain of the last few days was finally beginning to hit her, and she was more than grateful that Lester was a man of few words. They walked quietly along the empty streets. The sound of their footsteps and the occasional clatter of a milk horse cart were the only noises to disturb the night and her thoughts. Had it been her imagination or was Simon less Simony tonight? He seemed distracted and softer around the edges somehow.
    She shook her head and walked a little faster. No. She was not going to fall for it again. She’d take the little, shreddy remnants of her heart and move on. She was moving on. Definitely, moving on.
    If he wanted to apologize, really apologize, he’d had ample opportunity. Well, maybe not ample. She’d been gone each morning before he woke up, ignored him at the club, and didn’t talk to him at home. But if he really wanted to, he’d have found a way. So, clearly, he didn’t want to. He liked it the way it was. Her suffering and burning in the hell of abject despair was obviously the way he wanted things.
    And that was fine by her. Not the suffering, she could definitely do without that part, but she didn’t need him. She was a rock. She was an island. And channeling Simon and Garfunkel was never a good sign.
    She sighed so heavily, Lester actually spoke. “You okay, Lizzy?”
    “Yeah. Just thinking.”
    “Ah,” he said and nodded sagely. “Gotcha.”
    “We almost there?”
    “Yeah, it’s just—” Lester stopped walking and grabbed Elizabeth’s arm. He cocked his big, bald head to the side.
    “What is it?” she asked anxiously. His sausage-sized fingers dug into her arm.
    “We’re bein’—”
    The figures came out of the darkness too fast for either of them to react. A pair of iron hands clamped onto her arms, pulled her out of Lester’s grip and tossed her into the shadows of the alley.

Chapter Sixteen
    T he bright moon cast its silvery light through the thin curtains. Simon sat in his chair, his personal prison, and waited. The minutes dragged on and still Elizabeth wasn’t home. The streets below were empty and still. The only sound piercing the night was the clatter of an old-fashioned milk cart, the horse’s hooves beat out an unnatural