The night was moist, sticky, air like hot breath in her face. Deena walked across the bridge bathed in the dirty yellow streetlight glow. The river flowed with silent, unseen currents and she paused to consider this as she lit a cigarette. She watched the reflection of buildings ripple as a fish jumped in the water, dark and threading into a darker industrial distance. It occurred to her to just throw herself over the side and get it over with because, she knew, they would come for her.

But, Deena shrugged, maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe there’d be a gang war and they could just all kill each other. Maybe they wouldn’t figure out that she killed him. Not too bright ripping off the boss, no matter how crooked he was, no matter how many times she slept with him. Not too bright on her part at all. But she was glad she’d killed him. She studied her hand, held it out and watched it shake. Blood had dried in the crevices around her fingernails, she wanted to pick it out, was even tempted to put her fingertips in her mouth and suck on them. But it was blood. Even more, it was an asshole’s blood. So she hiked her purse onto her shoulder as she looked back, making sure no one was following her. There was just a large dog loping away down the other side of the street. Another stray lost in the city.

Turning to move forward she stopped. A man approached, his footsteps silent on the steel grating walkway. Deena only gave herself a moment to take him in before turning to run in the other direction but the large dog she’d seen was now sitting at the other end—watching her. She ended up taking a step and pulling back, she spun on the ball of her foot only to pull back again; the man was almost abreast of her.

“Don’t worry about the dog, he’s with me.” He smiled as he stopped beside her.

She couldn’t wrap her mouth around a word, her heart was pounding too hard and she was holding her breath.

Just a bit taller than she, he spoke softly, “Breathe.”

She did. She drew in a slow breath and found herself relaxing. This man couldn’t be a thug coming after her; he seemed too comfortable with himself to need to look for a fight or bully someone.

“Coming?” He nodded in the direction Deena had just come from, where the dog now sat, and continued walking without looking back.

Deena felt her head bobbing up and down, even though she really, and she meant really, didn’t want to go back that way. But for some reason, she didn’t want him leaving her. It was as if she’d been waiting for him and he had finally arrived. The thought made her heart race again.

She found herself trotting to catch up and fall into step beside him; walking fast to keep up. The dog rose and padded away as they neared the end. Deena was going to say something but couldn’t remember what it was.

At the end of the bridge, he caught her hand, leading her to the shadows and guiding her to the wall. She watched him lift her hand to his lips and a thrill of expectation filled her. But he stopped short of kissing her fingers; instead he drew in a breath as he held them to his nose. He almost smiled.

“You’ve been busy.”

She wanted to be embarrassed and pulled her hand back. He stepped away from her and there was something about him, a scent that she wanted to inhale. She wanted to move towards him; but he stepped to the side and walked around her slowly. Deena found herself standing as still as she could; she shivered as he moved to stand close behind her and again when he smoothed his hands on her shoulders and curved his fingers around her arms, holding them at her sides.

A warmth that was not physical formed within her and seemed to flow into every point of her awareness—a combination of desire and affection, affection for her very existence. Physically, she felt she was at the point between wakefulness and sleep—floating. He brushed her hair back from her neck and Deena reached back to touch him; but he swiftly caught her wrist and pinned her arm back to her side. She felt his breath on her neck and she had a hard time catching her own because anticipation filled her. She groaned when he nipped the skin under her jaw line; gasped when a sudden pain jutted into her throat only to be forgotten immediately—for every part of her consciousness was infused with the most incredible pleasure she’d ever felt.

She could hear him sucking lightly. And she felt satisfied. Sleepy. Settling against him as his arms encircled her, Deena sighed. Her eyelids flickered. Closed.