Is it March already? I can barely believe it. What’s up Besties! Time for the next part of my new superheroine in peril adventure Bombshell: Riverside Origins! In the first part we met aspiring superheroine Miranda, on the search for wayward prostitute Paisley. Her investigation has led her to believe that there is a much bigger threat lurking just beneath the surface of Riverside city. We also found out that her brother-in-law is in town, a fact Miranda does not seem too happy about. Let’s rejoin the story now, with Miranda having told her bff and tech-support Luna Gatsby about the appearance of Donovan Ashton.
If you haven’t read part 1 of Bombshell: Riverside Origins, you can find it here.
Or if you already want to skip the “parts” and read the whole adventure you can purchase the ebook on Smashwords right now, where you will also get the exclusive Villain Ending.
Chapter 4
“That son-of-a-bitch!” Luna declared. “He’s got some big damn balls showing up out of the blue like that! Like, hey fuck-knuckle, ever heard of the phone? Send a text? Slide up in your DMs?”
Luna was sitting at a desk with three side-by-side monitors and two computer towers. It stretched across one of the walls in the back office of Miranda’s house. The rest of the room was lined with long tables holding the high-tech tools and equipment she used to service the Nandex.
“Well, actually,” the blonde said from the next room. “He’s been doing all that for like a month. I’ve kinda been ignoring him, hoping he’d go away. I didn’t think he’d ever actually show up here.”
“Oh. Well, then: hey fuck-knuckle take the goddam hint!”
“That’s what I’m saying!” Miranda came back into the office. “Did you find anything on this Baker guy?”
“About what you’d expect from a north-end drug dealer,” Luna replied. “Handful of priors, possession mostly, some intent, but it seems like he’s been keeping his head down since moving here from Warden City sometime in the last year-” She spun around in her chair and her brown eyes bulged at the sight of Miranda. “-what the what happened to you?”
The blonde was wearing a scandalously short, ruffled zebra print miniskirt. Below it her long legs were sheathed in fishnet stockings. Above it, her flat tummy was naked, and above that a clingy pink tube top was struggling to contain her big round breasts. Her normally lustrous hair was a ratted mess, and her makeup was bordering on garish.
“What?” she asked innocently, putting on two large hoop earrings.
“And just where the hell do you think you’re going dressed like that, young lady?” Luna demanded in a tone that made it hard to know if she was joking or not.
“I told you, I’m going to check out Baker’s place.” She’d gotten the address from Chocolate after Donovan had left. Miranda sat down across from the brunette and began buckling on a pair of hot pink stiletto heels.
“Aaaaaaaaaand you’re going to pick up a couple of johns on the way? Maybe get one of them to give you a ride?”
“Luna, I’m going to a drug dealer’s house to look for a missing hooker,” Miranda huffed. “This way he’ll think I’m just one of her friends looking for her, or maybe looking to score. Either way he’ll be much more willing to talk to me than if I go down there like little miss social worker Miranda Ashton.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with finding this-“ Miranda shot Luna a cutting glance. “-this girl, anyway. It’s not exactly like she was living a safe lifestyle.”
“So just because someone’s in a bad situation means they don’t deserve our help?”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” the blonde sighed. “Look, Warren hid this tech from his family because he wanted it to do real good. So, if I’m going to use it to honor that, I’m going to be the kind of superheroine who fights for the little guy, the people who really need help, regardless of their circumstances.”
“I get that,” Luna said. “And I agree, you know I do, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“And this isn’t just about Paisley,” Miranda went on. “She was my friend and I’m worried, yes, but she also told me someone has been taking girls off the streets.”
“You mean like human trafficking?”
Miranda nodded grimly. “When she came to me, she was scared. And everybody I ask about her gets scared too. I can feel it in my gut that she didn’t just skip town. There is something going on in the streets and they can’t go to the cops cuz they’re just hookers anyway.” She said this last part with air-quotes and a look of disdain.
“And you’re thinking if you can find her,” Luna followed the logic. “You’ll find whoever is behind this and you can stop them.”
Miranda nodded. “This sounds like a job for…Cerulean girl!”
“What the fuck is a ‘cerulean’?”
“It’s a shade of blue,” Miranda chuckled. “I guess it should probably be Cerulean Woman?”
“Hash-tag feminism,” Luna rolled her eyes. “You better come up with something way better than that, and quick. When you bring down a sex slavery ring, that shit’s definitely making the papers.”
“Do people even read papers anymore?”
“Older men, at coffee shops,” Luna shrugged. “Gotta have some way to pretend they aren’t checking out the over-caffeinated high schoolers buying lattes.”
“Speaking of checking out,” Miranda stood up and gave a little twirl. The whispy lines of her low back tattoo curled out the top of her skirt, and the zebra ruffles fluttered around her hips, teasing glimpses of the under-curves of her perfect ass. “Think he’ll buy me as a prostitute or what?”
Luna took a deep breath and rolled her eyes again. “This is a really stupid plan.”
Chapter 5
Despite Luna’s further protests, Miranda took a cab to Riverside’s north end. It was one of the more harrowing rides she’d ever had, as the driver spent more time ogling her in his rearview mirror than looking at the road. She had him drop her a couple blocks away from Baker’s street.
The moon was shining brightly overhead by the time she arrived in the rundown neighborhood. She was actually a little glad for the dark. There were people on many of the porches, drinking or gossiping, and she could feel their eyes on her as she passed. It had been a while since she’d worn such a short skirt, and she felt like every stride or slight breeze gave a show of her ass.
“Damn, baybay, you lookin’ fer me?” hooted a young boy, gathered with a group of teens huddling under one of the few still working streetlights.
“Please, child,” she replied, affecting a fake drawl. “I only play if there’s grass on the field.”
The kids all laughed, and the boy shouted something incredibly lewd. Miranda would have blushed if he’d been old enough to say such a thing to her. She kept walking and they did not follow.
When she reached the address Chocolate had given her, the house was exactly what she’d expected; a small one-story residence, rundown, with a yard that was more dirt than grass. There were lights on inside, including the unmistakable flickering of a television. She couldn’t see anyone inside though.
Taking a deep breath, Miranda approached and knocked gently on the front door. When there was no answer she knocked again, a little louder. Still nothing. After a closer look through the windows, still not seeing anyone, and making sure none of the neighbors were paying attention, Miranda crept around to the back yard.
It was in worse shape than the front. There was a wrecked kennel, and an empty dog chain at the center of a worn, muddy circle. No porch or patio, just a cracked set of cement stairs leading to a rusty screen door.
Miranda swore under her breath, teetering as her heels slipped and sunk in the muddy yard. She peeked in a rear window, seeing a dingy kitchen, but still no people. Fortunately, the back door was unlocked. She eased it open, then crept inside. The smell of old food and cigarette smoke filled her nose. The sink and counters were piled with dirty dishes. In the center of the room, between two wobbly chairs, was a small table with an overflowing ashtray on it.
There were voices coming from the front room, but she was pretty sure that was just the TV blaring. There was a second doorway out of the kitchen, leading to a darkened room. Miranda pushed it open gingerly and found a bedroom. A small closet had been left open with the light on. Laundry covered the floor, surrounding a mattress and box spring with no frame. There was a cheap looking dresser, one of the drawers missing its front. She pulled the door shut and crept towards the front room.
The television was an expensive looking flat screen that seemed to take up most of the far wall. The furniture in front of it was mismatched and old. There didn’t seem to be anyone in there either, so she stepped out into the room for a better look. There was a computer desk against the wall closest to her. It had a laptop on it, and scattered papers which turned out to be various past due bills. Miranda leafed through a few of them shaking her head.
“A’ight, bitch, don’t move!” snarled a voice behind her.
Miranda jumped and let out a startled squeal.
“Hands up!”
Great, she winced, raising her hands. How did he get behind me?
“Now turn around, real slow.”
Miranda did as she was told. There was a man crouched in the doorway she’d just come through. His boney hand clutched a pistol that was aimed right at her. He was noticeably tall, even crouched, and overly skinny with cropped dirty blonde hair, and a patchy beard. He was wearing a worn-out wife beater and ripped jeans. His arms were covered in poorly done, uncoordinated tattoos that made her think of the scribblings in a child’s coloring book. His eyes peered at her with a tired look in them.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” he demanded.
“I’m, uh, I’m Candy,” she said in her fake drawl. “I’m looking for Paisley… you Baker?”
The man let his gaze slither over her body. Miranda titled her hips a little to accentuate her figure. His eyes lingered on the two plump breasts wrapped in the thin pink bandeau.
“Don’t know no Paisley,” he grumbled, waving his gun towards the door. “Get the fuck out.”
“But, you’re Baker, right?” she pressed. “C’mon man, she tol’ me ‘bout you, I’m cool.”
His eyes narrowed.
“How else you think I knew to come here?”
“You work with her or some shit?”
Miranda glanced pointedly down at her scantily clad body. “Or some shit.”
“Well, that bitch ain’t here, so get the fuck on,” he gestured towards the door again, thumbing back the hammer this time.
“C’mon man, don’t be a dick,” Miranda said, taking a step back. She arched slightly, pushing her boobs out even more, his eyes dropped to them immediately. “I’m just tryin’ to find my friend and maybe a good time…”
“Fucken tweaker sluts,” he groaned, but eased off the gun.
Miranda took her first deep breath in several moments. She lowered her hands slowly. “See you do know my girl! If she ain’t here, where’s she at?”
“Shut the fuck up, whore,” he sounded irritated. “Come on.”
Miranda followed him through the kitchen and back into his bedroom. He flipped on the light, it was dim and orangey. He went to the closet, quickly sliding the door shut. Before he did, she saw an open hatch in the floor which she hadn’t noticed before.
He was in the crawlspace, she realized. I didn’t even think of that, quiet as I could be, he still heard every step I took.
“So, I assume you wantin’ to pay for my shit with some pussy, right?”
“Huh?” Miranda looked up, wrenched from her thoughts.
Baker scowled and came towards her. “You keep them eyes off my closet, you got that, whore?”
“Oh, right,” she stammered. “Sorry…” He was right on top of her by then, she started to back away but bumped into the wall.
“Whatever,” he said, shaking his head. “So you got cash, or you tryna pay with this?” His hand shot forward and grabbed her by the pussy.
“HEY!” Miranda squealed, and grabbed his wrist with both hands.
“Chill out, slut,” he sighed. “I’m just makin’ sure you got the right equipment. Can’t be too careful these days.”
Miranda gulped audibly, not sure how to protest without blowing her cover. Baker pushed her panties to one side and stroked a finger along her slit. Her labium was smooth, soft and hairless. He pushed in a little deeper, sliding two fingers between her supple lips. A gentle tremor moved through her hips as he teased the sensitive petals. She felt frozen in place as his fingertips began to prod her prim vagina.
Baker let out a low whistle. “Damn, girl, yo’ shit is tight!”
“Okay, satisfied?” she faked a giggle, pushing his hand away before it could penetrate her. “All pussy…”
Baker stepped back, grinning as she quickly readjusted her panties. “I’m just sayin’, your girl Paisley? Her shit getting’ a little tired.”
“Yeah, sure,” Miranda was flustered, trying to keep her cool. “So, where do you think she is though?”
“Fuck, who gives a shit,” Baker said, sitting on the edge of his bed. “So what kinda medicine you take?”
“What? Oh, um, I mean, whatever, I just like to party.”
“My kinda slut,” he said, his eyes locked on her chest once again. “So why don’t you show me how you party.”
Miranda crossed her arms under her breasts, resisting the urge to cover them as the dealer ogled her. “What do you mean?”
“Dance for me.”
“Dance,” Miranda echoed doubtfully.
“Yeah, see you fine and all but I ain’t too thirsty just now,” he said, looking her up and down. “So maybe you put on a little show, get me turnt up, then I’ll bomb you out and we can fuck.”
“I don’t know,” she murmured, looking around the room. “What if Paisley comes back?”
“The bitch ain’t comin’ back, aight!” he snapped, standing up again.
Miranda jumped back. “Why not? Where’d she go?”
His hand shot forward, this time snagging a handful of her ratted blonde tresses. Miranda gasped in pain as he jerked her head to one side and pulled her away from the wall.
“Let go!” She grabbed his wrist with one hand, reaching back to untangle his fingers with the other. He seized that wrist with his free hand, pulling it away and jerking her hair again. “OW! Stop it!”
“I don’t like nosey bitches,” Baker hissed in her face. “So shut the fuck up about that bitch!” He emphasized his point with another harsh yank, making Miranda whine. “Got it?”
“Y-yes.” She gasped through clenched teeth.
“Good,” he spat, shoving her away.
Miranda nearly fell off her stiletto heels but managed to stay up right. She reached up, rubbing the ache out of her scalp and glaring at the dealer.
“Now, you wanna get wasted and fuck, get that ass moving,” he sank back onto the edge of the bed. “If not get the fuck out.”
He knows something, Miranda thought, forcing her scornful expression to soften. I guess I have to buy a little time, while I figure out how to make him talk…
“There’s no music,” she murmured.
A crooked grin stretched over the dealer’s face. He leaned over to the dresser, tapping the screen on his phone. “In Da Club” by 50 Cent started to play. Miranda blushed bright pink; this had been one of her regular songs at the Kitty Galore club all those years ago.
She started rocking to the beat, it built slow. Her body found the rhythm like an old friend. She switched her hips, making her skirt flip and flutter. Baker’s eyes flashed, searching for a glimpse, drawn in by her tease. She rocked side to side, bobbing her boobs, drawing his eyes up as they jiggled in the flimsy top. Her entire body rolled with the beat, Miranda whipped her hair around, bending forward and rising slowly, letting him look down her cleavage. She made eye contact with her audience, he was watching intently.
She felt a little charge realizing she had him already.
Spinning around, her hips popped so the skirt would flash glimpses of her little round booty. Baker grinned at the sight of the tramp stamp peeking out from the waistband. She started to bend forward but stopped, rocked back to throw a vixen glance over her shoulder. Baker’s eyes were glued to her ass and she watched them dart side to side as she switched back and forth. She dropped low and brought it up slow, giving the dealer a perfect view right up her skirt, her peach-like cheeks, the hot pink thong clinging to her prim pussy, her long legs extended, straight and sexy.
Really starting to feel the music, Miranda bent all the way over putting her hands on the floor and her ass in the air, twerking furiously, her skirt flapping, giving him a full view of her bare cheeks bouncing, rolling and shaking, the rest of her tattoo, then Miranda dropped to her knees, bumping and grinding on the floor, before coming back up so slow, long legs spread, hips cocked to give him an inviting view of her pink-pantied pussy.
“Damn, girl,” Baker hissed. “Come here.”
Miranda turned, shooting him a flirtatious smile. She moved up to him, her body gyrating to the music, practically hypnotizing him with the jiggle and bounce of her tits. She hooked her fingers into the tube top, pulling it down but not off, teasing him, not really showing anything just yet. Baker was licking his chops, and she noticed a bulge already straining his jeans.
She couldn’t help but smile and think: Guess I still got it!
She was actually a little lost in the moment, memories of the Kitty Galore, of being on stage, flitting through her mind so vividly – And there was Warren in the front row, his eyes locked on hers, not her jiggling tits, not her naked slit as she slowly spread her legs, but on her eyes – Baker’s hand’s slid up her neck, and before she knew what was happening, he’d pulled her down on her knees.
“Oh!” Miranda’s eyes went round as dinner plates as she found herself kneeling between his thighs, her face only inches away from that bulge she’d noticed before. “Umm, you feelin’ a little more, um, thirsty…yet?”
“Gettin’ there,” he said with a leering grin. He began to unbutton and unzip his pants.
Miranda’s stomach did a backflip. This was such a stupid plan!
Baker pulled out his stiff member and her wide green eyes fixated on it. Miranda’s heart thumped a little faster. It was a fine size, slim and sort of pointed with a curve to it. But her stomach twisted into a knot, no way she could suck his dick, this two-bit dealer, who knew where’d been or what he’d done before, not even to protect her cover…there had to be another way.
“You just said dance,” Miranda started to push away.
Baker’s hand slipped around to the back of her neck.“Sh Sh, it’s fine, c’mere.”
“Wait, I don’t think…” she tried to protest as he pulled her forward.
“I’m almost there,” Baker said. “Just get me good an’ sloppy, then I’ll dope you up and pound you out, mm’kay?”
She tried to come up with another plan, but for some reason didn’t resist the insistent pull of his hand on the back of her neck. Miranda shook her head, opened her mouth to say “no”, to tell him to “stop” but as she did his cock slid over her tongue. Her heart sank as she closed her soft pink lips around his shaft and gave it a first experimental suckle.
“There ya go,” he mumbled above her.
Miranda slid back along his length, then pushed forward slowly. He tasted earthy, salty, and a little charge swelled through her chest despite herself. She realized how long it had been since she tasted a man.
Miranda sucked him in again, deeper, feeling how firm and warm he was between her lips. His bitter musk filled her nostrils. As she pulled back again, her dainty fingers wrapped around his shaft and stroked gently. Miranda swirled her soft pink tongue around the head of his dick, felt it flinch in delight and almost giggled. She licked up and down his rigid shaft, stroking as she did, coating him in her saliva, feeling his veins pulse and tense against her tongue.
Baker’s hand weaved through her ratty hair and tickled under her chin. “Look me at me while you suck it,” he groaned.
Miranda did as he said, gazing up at him as she bobbed up and down on his hard dick. Seeing the two-bit dealer staring back at her, his half-crooked smile as she serviced his cock, triggered a rush of shame.
I can’t believe I’m doing this! She thought but didn’t stop.
She sucked him a little harder, her blonde head continuing to bob. Her cheeks were flushed and pink with the heat of his hardon. Her lips slipped back forth, slick with spit, her velvety tongue flipped and squirmed against his veiny shaft, and she maintained eye contact, despite the humiliation of who she was blowing.
Baker moaned encouragements. Miranda felt the tingle of precum in the back of her throat. She pulled away slow, glittering strings of spittle clinging to her pink lips. She stroked his slick shaft and buried her face between his thighs, lapping at his balls.
“Oh fuck, you dirty little slut,” he moaned, shoving his pants down so he could spread his legs even more.
Miranda sucked one firm orb then the other. She felt a little too eager. His bitter taste and musky scent were flooding her senses, making it impossible to concentrate when she needed to be coming up with a new plan, figuring out how to make him talk. Baker was playing with her hair, pushing it back from her face, gathering it together, as she eagerly slurped and licked his warm sack.
With a firm handle in her hair, Baker guided her lips back to his cock. Miranda opened her mouth to suck him in but as she did his hips bucked up. The head of his dick rushed to the back of her throat and she gagged. Miranda groaned, tried to pull back but he held her in place and fucked her pretty little mouth! She choked and sputtered, and when he eased off to give her a breath, several tears were already streaking mascara down her cheeks.
The dealer let out an excited moan, then pushed her head down again. His hips rocked against her face. Miranda drooled and slurped around his hard dick as it thrust into her throat again and again, faster, deeper each time. Her body convulsed as she gagged miserably.
Baker let go, groaning and chuckling and laid back on the bed.
Miranda sank back on her round little tush, coughing and gasping as spit and precum streamed from her lips. Her chest was burning, her cheeks were bright red with the embarrassment of having her face fucked by the two-bit dealer.
“You definitely, earned your medicine,” Baker was saying. “What’s you want, slut, crank, blow..?” He rolled over, reaching into the frontless drawer on his dresser. “Goddam I’m a fuck the shit out of you in a minute.”
As he shifted, Miranda noticed the gun laying next to his hip on the mattress. Baker was totally distracted, pulling a box of paraphernalia out of the drawer. She didn’t give it a second thought and lunged forward, snagging the pistol!
“The fuck you-” Baker began, glancing over. “-doin’?”
Miranda stepped back, spitting out a thick mouthful of precum and saliva, as she lifted the weapon towards him.
“Oh, you stupid, whore,” he grunted, shaking his head.
She wiped her lips, glaring at him over the black streaks marring her flushed cheeks. “Now, scumbag, let’s talk about Paisley.”
Chapter 6
“I knew you wasn’t no hooker,” Baker growled. “Yo’ pussy felt too tight.”
“Well, if it seems too good to be true it usually is,” Miranda snipped. She tugged her skimpy pink tube top up a bit and pretended not to notice her rock-hard nipples poking out underneath.
“You suck like a fucken pro though-“
“Shut up,” she thrust the gun forward. “Now, I came here to find my friend, and I know you know something.”
“Ah c’mon, for real?” he groaned. “Why you care about that hookin’ bitch-“ BANG!
His phone had cycled through a few other songs by then, but now Miranda whipped the gun towards it and blasted it to pieces. Baker jumped, flinching to cover his head. When he looked back at her, she was aiming the gun at him and his hardon was quickly deflating.
“Ah! Fuck…okay,” he gasped, holding up his hands defensively. “I was hanging out with that bitch but I ain’t seen her in like a week.”
“One week? That makes you last person to see her, so where is she?”
“How do I know?” he said quickly. “Fucken whore’s probably out working the corner…that’s what they do y’know…”
“I’ve been on the corners, I’ve checked all the shelters, I already talked to the other girls,” Miranda rattled off. “They haven’t seen her either, told me she was hanging with you though.”
Baker was trying to pull his pants back up. “You can’t trust them lying whores-“ BANG!
Miranda cut him off by blasting a hole in the mattress right next to him. Baker lurched away in fright, tumbling onto the floor with his pants around his ankles.
“You got a crazy bitch with a gun pointed at you, Baker,” she hissed through fine white teeth. “How many more times you gonna lie to her?”
“Alright, fuck, we wuz kicking it,” he wailed, cowering away. “See I bugged outta Dub-City last year, she wanted me to help her get out of Riverside.”
“She came to you for help?”
“I mean that an’ a little bit of that good-good,” he shrugged. “We shot up the last of my shit, to take the edge off before she left.”
“But she never left, did she?” Miranda took another step forward, pistol leading the way. “Where did you really send her and why?”
“Ah, come on, you know what happens to snitches in these streets?”
Miranda lowered the gun and blew a hole in the floor and the pants stretched between his legs. BANG!
“Okay! FUCK!” he scooted back from the smoking hole and hung his head. “Like I said, she shot up the last of my shit. Since I let her pay in pussy, I needed cash to resupply, so…” He trailed off, almost as if he couldn’t find the words.
“So you sold her.” Her green eyes hardened, narrowed, her hand tensed around the pistol.
“I mean, it wasn’t quite like that,” he stammered. “Them boys she been workin’ for, they got a hook up buying girls, I just thought they might slip me a finder’s fee if I returned some of their merchandise.”
“Crash and Suites…” That lying bastard!
Miranda almost hadn’t believed it all until just that moment. Maybe she didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want to admit it could happen to someone in Riverside, much less her friend.
“Who are they selling to? Where do the girls go?”
“I don’t know, I swear!” Baker’s eyes flit desperately around the room, searching for any way out. “There’s this dude, legit as fuck, collecting bitches, how the fuck do I know what they do with ‘em.”
“They’re not ‘bitches’ they’re people you fucking scumbag!”
“Yeah,” Baker slumped against the foot of the bed, tossing his hands in acceptance. “I really am,” he sighed, “thought it’d be easy money but-“
“But you talk too goddam much!” growled a deep voice behind her.
Miranda whirled around to find a broad figure filling up the bedroom doorway. Crash snatched the gun right out of her hand and before she could even react his massive fist slammed into the side of her face!
Pain exploded across her cheek and jaw as she sprawled onto the floor.
“The fuck you thinking, Baker-man?” Crash yelled.
“She had a gun…“
Miranda was struggling to get up on her hands and knees when Crash’s heavy work boot blasted into her ribs. The force lifted her off the floor, dropping the girl on her side a few feet away. She wheezed desperately for breath as a splitting ache spread through her chest.
“You can’t handle some fucken skank with a gun?” Crash was shouting at the dealer. They sounded far away.
Miranda lay on the floor, gasping, trying to stop the room from spinning through force of will. She knew she was in trouble. Without her Nandex uniform she was no match for the vicious thug. Of course, she’d trained to fight since deciding to take on this mission but since he’d caught her off guard, hurt her already, she was in far too vulnerable of a position now to stand any chance.
“The fuck, man?” Baker was whining. “I’m poss’a let the bitch shoot me?”
“Pull your fucken pants up,” Crash grunted in disgust. “You ain’t supposed to let the bitch get your piece, idiot.”
“I was distracted, man, she did this sexy fucken dance, and then sucked me so good I still got bedsheets in my ass…”
The hatch…the crawlspace, Miranda thought dazedly. The beating had actually thrown her closer to the closet. Maybe there’s a way out, a window or vent or something!
She glanced back at the two men. Baker was sitting on the bed again. Crash had his back half turned towards her. Miranda started dragging herself towards the closet, slowly. She grimaced, clenching her teeth against the pain shooting across her ribs with every move she made.
“And whachu think the Hammer gon’ do he find out you been talkin’ man?” Crash said.
Miranda made a mental note: The Hammer.
“You know some superbitch came by Suites’s place last night looking for Paisley,” Crash went on. “Who the fuck else you been talkin’ to?”
“Superbitch?” Baker seemed to perk up. “Like…a superheroine? Who? What’s her name?”
“Blue Bird or some shit, man I don’t fucken know,” Crash groaned. “I clocked that bitch with a beer bottle and she bugged out.”
Later Miranda would give great consideration to whether she was angrier that he remembered Holly had called her Blue Bird, or that he left out the thrashing she’d given him. In that moment though, she had made it to the closet and dove through the hatch!
The ground was close, and she slammed into it, the pain in her ribs taking her breath away. She knew she had to keep moving. Glancing around quickly, she saw a rectangle of moonlight beaming through the far wall. It looked so far away to the battered girl in that moment.
In the bedroom the men started yelling.
“Fuck, where’d she-“
“The hatch, man, the crawlspace!”
“Fuckin’ get in there!”
Miranda quickly unbuckled and kicked off her stilettos and scrambled towards that patch of light. The air was musty, moldy and dank. The ground was dusty and dirty in some spots, slick and muddy in others and everything was draped in stringy, clingy cobwebs. Behind her someone dropped into the crawlspace. She didn’t look back, crawling as fast as her aching body could manage.
“I don’t see her!” Baker shouted.
“The fuck you mean? She ain’t just disappear!” A gun shot rang out. BANG!
Miranda braced for the hit, smelled the waft of sawdust and gunpowder, but kept moving.
“There she is!” She heard Baker behind her. “She’s headed out the back!”
“I’ll cut her off!” Crash’s heavy work boots clomped across the floor.
Miranda had reached the illuminated square. It was a vent she easily shoved open, and just barely wide enough for her slender frame. Her fishnets snagged and shredded, but she dragged herself through, emerging in front of Baker’s house. Covered in grime and dirt, she got to her feet, gasping a few painful breaths. She backed away, looking to see how close behind her Baker had gotten.
“Where you at bitch!” she heard Crash shouting on the other side of the house. There was no sign of the dealer following.
“Morons,” she murmured with a slightly triumphant smirk. She didn’t waste another second before turning and sprinting down the block.
Miranda ran as fast as she could, despite the rough and unyielding pavement beneath her bare feet. Every stride and breath were agony, her injured ribs made it a struggle just to stay upright. She knew if she stopped though, the two men wouldn’t be far behind. She glanced back to check for pursuit. None yet.
Headlights on her right and the blare of a horn consumed her entire world!
Miranda froze like a doe, for just a second, then threw herself backwards as tires screamed angrily. She landed on her ass in the street with a grunt, too alarmed to cry out either in terror or the agony of her landing. The smell of hot rubber wafted past her nose. She heard two doors open but couldn’t see anything as she was fully immersed in the blinding glare of the headlights.
“Hey! Are you crazy? What the hell-!?” shouted one voice.
Miranda squinted, grimacing as she struggled just to sit up. “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.”
A dark figure moved through the blazing lights, reaching down and extending a hand.
“Pardon my driver, miss,” said a voice that froze the blood in her veins. “Are you oka- Miranda?”
She winced, shutting her eyes and desperately wishing she was back in Baker’s crawlspace.
“Hello, Donovan.”