Dark Deception by Rina Kent

Dark Deception by Rina Kent

Author:Rina Kent
Language: eng
Format: epub


4

Winter

I stop before rounding the corner toward the shelter.

Saying I’ll face the devil and actually doing so are two different things. After all, I clawed at his face, kicked him in the balls, then shoved him against his desk the last time I saw him.

He might really catch me and force me to spend a day in the police station.

A low growl escapes my stomach and I wince as it contracts against itself. I can almost feel it opening its mouth and when it finds nothing, makes this god-awful sound.

I wrap an arm around my middle as if that will magically appease the ache.

Okay, I’ll just try to sneak in some soup and leave. Many homeless people who don’t spend the night here come only for meals, so my plan shouldn’t be weird.

I pull my hood over my head and rub my hands together in a half-assed attempt to warm them as I round the corner.

Two police cars are parked in front of the shelter with their blue and red lights on. A few news vans are scattered around the shabby building. Reporters and cameramen are everywhere, like bugs searching for a juicy piece of trash to bite down on.

Don’t tell me that slimy asshole called the police and the media because of me? I only kicked him. Okay, maybe I clawed at his face and punched him, too, but that was in self-defense. He’s the one who called me into his office and was feeling me up where he wasn’t supposed to be touching.

I might have little—okay, nothing—but I can protect myself against bastards like him.

But if I tell that to the police or the media, they won’t believe me. Why would the respectable director of a homeless shelter, who’s also running for mayor, touch an insignificant, dirty person like me?

I really should search for another shelter. But will they let me in if Richard has already blacklisted me?

Was it the clawing, the punching, or the kicking that sealed the deal for him? If it was the latter, so be it. Because kicking him in the balls isn’t something I regret in the least.

A pebble hits me upside the head and I wince, turning around. A smile lifts my mouth when I make eye contact with the only person I’d call my friend in this shithole.

“Larry!” I whisper-yell.

“Come here.” He motions at me to join him in a small alleyway that’s used for tossing trash.

I briskly move to his side and wince at the smell of garbage. Not that Larry and I are the best smelling people around, considering the limited amount of time we get to shower.

Larry’s tan skin appears even darker in the shadows. He’s a middle-aged man—around mid-fifties, as he told me—and he has the wrinkles around his eyes as proof of the time he’s spent on this earth. His features are harsh, angular, and the bone in his nose protrudes due to being broken before.

He’s wearing a second-hand hot orange cashmere coat that he got from some charity.



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