She shook her head. “Not necessary. I can make it home. Just give me my start.”

“You got it. Text me when you’re home safe.”

“David, how many times do I have to tell you, I don’t have a cell phone and I’m not getting one.”

“Oh. Yeah. I keep forgetting you’re living in the dark ages.”

Ridley had said the same thing and offered to get her a cell. She’d refused of course. Apparently no one really could exist without a phone. She managed quite nicely. Phones led to bills and bills were a paper trail. She didn’t want that.

When she’d first been hired at Poetry Slam, they were barely scraping by. Most days only a few customers came in regularly unless it was poetry night, then it got a little crowded. David couldn’t afford to pay her much so he’d paid her under the table. Once word got out that the new barista was very good at her job and customers began pouring in, David had offered her more money and the chance to go legit. She took the extra money but refused to go legit. No paper trails.

Catarina made her way to the back, David following her, the way they did each night to put the money and receipts in a safe until David could go to the bank. Catarina slipped out the back door. David waited in silence until she searched the alley to make certain no one was lurking there. She gave him the thumbs-up and began to jog back toward the warehouse district.

The alley went down two blocks and came out on a cross street. She didn’t make a sound as she moved, and she moved fast. She wanted to be almost home before David locked that front door. If Tuttle was waiting for her, she’d be in her house, locked up tight before he could find her. The danger, of course, was that he already knew where she lived and was waiting for her, but she’d cross that bridge if she came to it. The more she ran, the more she was certain Tuttle wasn’t with Rafe. He creeped her out, set off her radar, but not in the way Rafe’s men would have.

She slowed her pace, needing to save energy. As she neared the end of the alley, she pulled a small can of wasp spray from her purse and transferred it to her left hand. She stopped at the edge of the alley and moved to the street, staying in the shadows. There were a few straggly bushes trying to live without water nearest the long row of buildings. A few were nearly as tall as she was. None had been pruned and she found it easy enough to slip under the branches and stay inside the planted area that ran alongside the sidewalk.

An SUV cruised by slow and she froze. Movement drew the eye. She tried to blend with the bushes around her. Fortunately, she always wore dark clothes to work, just in case she had to disappear. She believed in being prepared and she’d worked toward this moment. She’d always known it was a risk to settle in one place. She didn’t believe Frank Tuttle was Rafe’s soldier, but he was too interested in her and she didn’t dare take a chance, not when she cared about the people who had given her so much.

The SUV had darkened windows and she couldn’t make out the driver, not even with her superior night vision. The vehicle didn’t have government plates, but her throat went dry. Tuttle had to be a cop. Her radar had gone off. He was definitely watching her. She was almost positive he wasn’t one of Rafe’s soldiers. But a cop was just as bad.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, hard, and drew in deep breaths. Nowhere was permanent in her life. No one. That was how it had to be. She knew that. She just liked it there. She liked Malcom. She liked David. She loved her job, the warehouse and most of all her friendship with Ridley.

She hurried home, watching carefully, scanning not only the rooftops and fire escapes, the balconies, and every other high place, but the streets, alleys and surrounding buildings. She took her time, not wanting another mistake.

Approaching the warehouse was always the most difficult. It was open ground. She checked for any parked vans, SUVs, cars or trucks nearby. She knew the rhythm of the place, the traffic, and there was very little. All the parked vehicles were ones she was familiar with. She darted across the street, making it to the shadows between buildings where she stopped again and inhaled to try to find any unfamiliar scents. There were none. She stepped up to her door and quickly hit the keypad to unlock it and step inside.

The dark enclosed her. At nearly four in the morning, outside the light was beginning to try to streak through the dark. Inside, her cocoon of darkness held. She rushed to her bedroom and threw herself on the bed, heart beating fast, fists clenched tight. Her eyes burned, but there were no tears. She would never cry again. Never, ever.

Life was all about acceptance. She’d known, when she’d managed her escape from Rafe, that if he caught her, the possibility was huge that he’d kill her. She also knew if he didn’t he’d never let her go. All avenues of escape would be shut down. Truthfully, she doubted she’d find the courage to go against him again.

Catarina pressed her fingers to her eyes. So she had to leave. She had to go and leave it all behind. She’d traded bad for a semi-life and that had to be enough. Straightening her shoulders, she sat up and pulled her travel bag from under the bed. She had two of them. One was empty, the other was her emergency bag. It had money and enough clothes to give her a start somewhere. She set the emergency bag by the door of her room and began filling the empty one. She had to choose carefully. Her clothes were all from thrift stores. She didn’t go to malls or anywhere one might buy a new pair of jeans, but she always loved the items she bought. Still, traveling light was always the key. She hated leaving behind her boots. She only had one pair and she’d paid more money for them than she had most of her clothes combined. But she had to travel light.