Free The Last Flight by Julie Clark Page A

then he plastered on a smile and said, “Eva. Hey.”
    Across the street, two men eased out of a parked car and started walking in their same direction, slow and silent. Trailing them.
    Eva began. “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”
    They crossed the street, past coffee shops and bookstores, and skirted the southern edge of campus. She stepped in front of Brett to stop him when they’d reached the opening of a narrow brick walkway that led to the entrance of a small art gallery that wouldn’t open until eleven o’clock. The men behind them stopped too, waiting.
    â€œLook, Eva,” Brett said. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t have your money yet.” As he spoke, he searched the faces of the few people on the street this early, looking for a friend. Someone to step in and help him. But Eva wasn’t worried. To anyone who might be watching, Brett was just a student, chatting with a woman on the sidewalk.
    â€œThat’s what you said the last time,” Eva said. “And the time before that.”
    â€œIt’s my parents,” Brett explained. “They’re getting a divorce. They cut my allowance by half. I can barely afford beer.”
    Eva tilted her head sympathetically, as if she could relate to a problem like that. As if she hadn’t been forced to live on a minuscule per diem in her three short years at Berkeley, pocketing extra food from the dining hall to tide her over long weekends. No one gave her an allowance. Paying for beer had never been on Eva’s long list of worries.
    She pressed on. “That’s a sad story. Unfortunately, it’s not my problem. You owe me six hundred dollars, and I’m tired of waiting.”
    Brett hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder and watched a bus rumble down the street, his gaze trailing after it. “I’ll get it. I swear. Just…it’s going to take some time.”
    Eva reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of gum, unwrapping it carefully, and stuck it in her mouth, chewing slowly, as if she were considering what he’d said. The men who were trailing saw Eva’s signal and began making their way toward them.
    It took Brett almost no time to notice them. To see the purpose in their stride, to see that he and Eva were their final destination. He took a step backward, as if to run, but the men closed the distance quickly, boxing him in.
    â€œOh my god,” he whispered, his eyes wild with fear and panic. “Eva. Please. I swear I’ll pay you. I swear. ” He began to back away, but Saul, the bigger of the two men, placed a hand on Brett’s shoulder to stop him. Eva could see his large fingers squeezing, and Brett began to cry.
    She eased back toward the street, her part finished. But Brett’s eyes stopped her, silently pleading with her to change her mind, and Eva hesitated. Perhaps it was the way the morning light slanted down on them, autumn just a hint in the air, reminding her of a new semester with new classes and new things to learn. Reminding her of a life she’d once loved, not yet snatched away from her.
    Or maybe it was how young Brett looked. The way he whimpered, a pimple bright red on his forehead, the hair on his face still soft and thin. He was just a kid. And she remembered she’d been one once too. Making mistakes. Begging for another chance.
    No one had given it to her.
    She stepped back, allowing them to lead Brett down the walkway, away from the sidewalk.
    A voice startled her from behind. “Had to be done.”
    Dex.
    He emerged from the shadowed doorway of a closed shop and lit a cigarette, gesturing for her to walk with him. From behind them came the sound of fists hitting flesh, Brett’s cries, pleading for help. Then a particularly loud blow—perhaps a kick to the stomach, or his head slammed into the wall—and no more sounds from Brett.
    Eva kept her gaze steady, knowing Dex was studying