Neil releases the belt from her neck. She coughs and rubs her neck. He quickly gets out of the car and pulls the driver’s door wide open. “Get out!” he barks. As soon as her head is past the frame he grabs a fistful of hair and drags her to the hood of the car. Neil slams her down face first causing her to yelp in pain. Adam is already behind with hand cuffs. Shackling her wrists he forces his weight on top snarling into her ear, “Don’t even think about trying to escape.” He throws her onto the ground and straddles her stomach. Pushing his palm into the side of her face he pounds his fist into her rib cage. She grunts with each hit, the air being knocked out of her lungs with every blow. She just sobs when Adam finishes. He grabs her throat leaning in, “Just remember Tara ... I’m the nice one.” Neil chuckles and walks over, kneeling at her head he grins ear to ear. The bartender lets out silent tears.Adam gets off and Neil is right there to replace him. He hooks his elbow around her. Carrying little Meier, she joined him at the door, giving him a casual kiss, and moved toward the vehicle."Hey, boy," said one of the white men as he started to follow her.Igwanda ignored it and continued to move on. But the man laid a hard hand on his shoulder. "I said, hey, boy," he repeated, exerting strength to turn Igwanda to him.He let himself be turned—turned, in fact, considerably faster than the pressure might have dictated. It was meant as a warning. In that it failed."You with her?" his interceptor demanded, nodding at Meiersdottir.Igwanda sighed. He'd had this sort of encounter before, knew what was coming."She is my wife, and that is our son," he answered, hoping the regularity of the status would discourage his accoster.The man spat down, narrowly missing Igwanda's shoes. "She spread 'em for every nigger?" he demanded with a sneer.Igwanda started to turn away, but the hand on his shoulder tightened. "I asked you a question, boy," the man growled.Deliberately Igwanda.
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