“It’s Cres-ent, and no, I sure don’t. What’s wrong with you?” She shifted her weight and clutched her clothes a little tighter. She did not want to let these three put her in the middle of their nasty little circle. Her gut almost always led her right—why else was she staying with a stranger?—and maybe it did this time, too. Maybe when she fell in with these idiots, they didn’t really know how bad it could get. Her gut was good, but it couldn’t foresee the future. “Robbing a blind guy? Trying to, anyway. You couldn’t even pull that off.”

“Shut up,” Nick said roughly. He was a tall, cadaverously thin man with the bare beginnings of a mustache and a scar that bisected his left cheek. “We had it under control.”

“Sure you did. ’Bye.”

Jimmy, the other schmuck, clawed at her elbow and managed to grab it. “Whyn’t you take us to his place?” he asked. His tone was reasonable, but she wasn’t fooled. “Cute piece of ass like you, bet you’ve already got a key.”

As a matter of fact, she did. As a further matter of fact, she certainly wasn’t going to let them have it. “Forget it,” she said, trying to pull away. “Fuck off, you three, before I lose my temper. I can’t believe I ever felt sorry for you.”

“Sorry for us?” Nick echoed, his expression darkening. “Be sorry for you. Because when we get done, you won’t be so pretty no more.”

“It’s any more. For God’s sake, Nick, you went to private school before your folks kicked you out.”

Nick blushed—he hated being reminded he hadn’t been born to the streets—but Maria’s smile widened, if that was possible. Crescent observed that the woman had a nodding acquaintance at best with toothpaste. “We can do this the easy way—” she began.

“Oh, spare me your thug clichés.” Crescent was more annoyed than frightened, which she supposed was something. She’d been a moron to come back here by herself—and for what? So Drake wouldn’t see the shelter? Who cared what he thought? Big, overprotective dope. And she wasn’t going to be winning any college bowls, either, unless she starting relying a little more heavily on instinct and less on pride.

Jimmy’s other hand—the one not squeezing her elbow—darted forward like a pale spider and grabbed her nipple. Then he started to pinch. Hard. Crescent could drop her clothes all over the filthy alley floor, or she could stand there.

She stood there. Never in a thousand years would she show these three how much he was hurting her. “Cut the shit,” she said through gritted teeth. “You think acting like bullying ass-holes is going to change my mind about you?” She looked at Nick, waiting for him to call off his dog.