Samantha.

Fists knotted my guts with agony. My face squeezed and twisted with frustration and rage and guilt.

What had I done to her?

I’d made a mess of things big time.

Samantha now knew what a fuck up I was beneath my flashy exterior. While I’d slapped her with the truth, punched her with all the criminal shit I’d done in my past, the conviction I’d seen in her eyes was worse than what any jury could hand me at my trial. So what if twelve strangers decided I was a fuck up and sent me to jail to sweat out my guilt? My heart was already imprisoned in self hatred. For what I’d done to Samantha. For lying to her by not telling her about who I really was, for hiding my terrible past while she innocently fell in love with me.

How could I have done that to her? How could I have jeopardized the trust she willingly gave me by not telling her up front that I was no good?

The cold wind chilled my skin, but my heart was colder, shivering in my chest.

I glanced down at the tempting cement a hundred feet below.

It would be so easy to fly and let all my troubles fall away…

* * *

SAMANTHA


I clamped my hand around Spiridon’s wrist and pleaded, “We have to do something!”

Spiridon raised his brows thoughtfully. “What do you mean?”

“Christos ran out of my apartment earlier and sped off on his motorcycle. I’m afraid he’s going to…” I couldn’t say it.

Worry and recognition weighed on Spiridon’s face. “Have you tried to call him?”

“Fifty times!” My voice crackled with fear. “He won’t answer. That’s why I’m so worried. I hoped maybe he’d come here.”

Spiridon folded his arms across his chest and huffed a nervous sigh. I think my fear was seeping into him.

“Did he tell you where he was going?” Spiridon asked.

“No! I have no idea! He could be anywhere.”

“Perhaps the best thing we can do is wait here. He’s bound to come back sooner or later.”

“But what if…” I was ready to rocket out of my seat through the ceiling with anxiety. I couldn’t sit here and wait. I needed to take action. “Wait, maybe Christos is out with Jake!”

“So call Jake,” Spiridon said calmly.

I didn’t have Jake’s number, so I dialed Madison.

She answered after two rings. She sounded sleepy. “What up, girlfriend?”

“Mads!” My voice was way more panicked than I wanted, considering I was waking her up in the middle of the night. “Is Jake with you?”

“Last time I checked,” she sighed. “Unless the hot guy sleeping next to me is someone else. Hey buddy,” she giggled to whoever was in the room with her, “is your name Jake?”

I heard Jake’s faint, grumbling voice over the phone, “Don’t tell me you’re bored with me already, babe.”

“Men have such fragile egos,” Madison whispered to me. I heard her turn away from her phone again and say to Jake, “Go to sleep, King Dong. Your man cannon is the only one that bombards my baby box every night. Quick! Everyone to the dong shelters!”

Crap. There went my theory about Christos and Jake being out at a bar. “Mads, ask Jake if he knows where Christos is.”

“Why would he know where Christos is? He’s been with me all evening.”

“Can you please just ask him?” I pleaded.

“Jake,” Madison said, “Sam wants to know if you know where Christos is.”

“I haven’t talked to him since yesterday,” Jake mumbled.

Great.

Madison relayed the news, “Jake said he hasn’t seen—”

“I heard,” I interrupted.

“Is something wrong?” Madison asked, obvious concern in her voice.

I didn’t have time to explain everything to her. I needed to go look for Christos. “It’s, ah, it’s nothing.” I tried to sound like it was no big deal so she wouldn’t start worrying. “I just need to talk to Christos. If for some reason he calls Jake, call me right away, okay?”

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong, Sam?”

“Yeah. Everything is fine. Go back to sleep.”

I heard the rustling of covers.

“Mmmm,” Madison murmured, “I don’t think Jake is going to let me. Call me tomorrow, Sam. But if you really, really need me, call me right away.” Madison made a purring noise. “Scratch that. Don’t call for at least twenty minutes.”

I heard Jake scoff, “Twenty minutes?”

“Okay,” Madison said to Jake, “make it forty. But that’s all you get, cowboy. I have class in the morning.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mads,” I said. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Okay. Bye, Sam.” She giggled before the phone line went dead a second later.

I envied her in that moment. She was snuggled up with her man, the two of them safe from all the harm in the world. I set the phone down on the kitchen table and looked at Spiridon.

He laid a comforting hand on mine once again. “I know you’re worried, koritsáki mou. Why don’t you try calling Christos again?”

“Okay.”

He winked at me, “Isn’t there an old saying, the fifty-first time is the charm?”

* * *

CHRISTOS


A shadow blurred past the corner of my vision. Something huge and dark whipped past my head from the side and was gone before I could register what it was. I followed the motion as the thing curved out over the ten story drop below.

A lone barn owl had beat wings past my face, only a few feet in front of me. I’d never heard him coming. He was dead silent. Totally in his element.

I watched in awe as he soared out past the distant moon, floating above the canyons between me and the ocean. He sailed through the air languorously, searching for prey. I was transfixed by the hunter in his natural environment. What a simple life he led.

Without warning, the owl’s wings folded and it dove into the darkness. I followed it’s plummeting path, watching intently as its wings exploded mere feet above the ground, the owl landing in a pool of amber beneath a streetlight. A second later, the owl flapped furiously and rose into the air, a mouse dangling from its talons. Then the owl disappeared into the black night with its prey.

I was in awe of the swiftness with which all of that had transpired. One life ended so another could flourish.

I realized I had a choice to make.

My life…or Samantha’s.

I wanted her to flourish.

My face knotted in agony. My chest tightened as jagged knives of regret stabbed me from the inside out. How the fuck had I fucked things up so badly? I inhaled deeply, ready to shout my lungs out in an attempt to release some of the tension ripping my heart apart.

Then I realized shouting would call attention to myself.

Nyyhmy Hall was shaped like a blocky letter H when you looked at it from the top. The balcony was on the top side of the fat horizontal bar of the H. The thick vertical columns of the H held all the dorm rooms, the windows of which faced the balcony where I stood. Because it was San Diego, and it was no cooler than sixty degrees outside, many of those windows were open. Since this was a college dorm building, several of those windows had lights on, and some had their curtains open. If I started shouting, I had no doubt heads would start popping out of those windows like gophers checking for eagles overhead. The last thing I wanted was an audience or someone calling campus security and telling them there was another jumper on the tenth floor. I was enjoying my peace and quiet.

I took a deep breath. My stabbing regret eased a fraction. I took another breath.

That was when I realized I’d been looking at my situation all wrong. Eagles, owls, gophers and mice.

First, the owl and the mouse. For all I knew, that was a mama owl with baby owls back in her nest that hadn’t eaten in weeks. No one wanted baby owls to go hungry. I know I didn’t.

Second, the eagle and the gophers.

We all know which animal I was in that scenario.

No matter how much confusion and pain writhed in my guts, I would never be a gopher. I was the predator in my life, not the prey. I was not going to live my life cringing away from danger, always wondering when the death strike might come raining down from above.

I was going to step boldly into life and dance with danger.

I wasn’t going to give up.

Like the eagle and the owl, I was going to bare my claws and teeth and do what I did best.

Fight.

For myself. For Samantha.

For my life.

No one was going to bring me down and tear me apart. Not even the judicial system. I never took the easy way out. That’s how I’d ended up in this predicament in the first place. Because I liked living dangerously.

I was up here because the day I’d met Samantha, it had taken me less than half a second to decide that Horst Grossman, the fat fuck who was up in her face, was way out of line, and needed to lay off her shit. The easy thing would’ve been to ride away and forget all about her.

But that wasn’t how I rolled. Not that day, not tonight, and not at my trial. If I was going down, I was going down fighting.

I still hadn’t told my attorney, Russell Merriweather, whether or not to accept the plea bargain from the District Attorney. The offer was one year in jail in exchange for a guilty plea. Probably only nine months with time off for good behavior. That was the sure thing. If I went to trial, I risked up to four years in state prison if the jury found me guilty. Fuck it. I liked risks and I liked fighting.

I was going to roll the dice and go to trial.

I grinned and shook my head. I don’t know why I’d been so stressed about all this. Like most women, Lady Luck had the hots for my shit. No reason why she wouldn’t back me up at my trial.