Hard to Fight - Bella Jewel Page 0,69

know he’s good and done, so I find my clothes and make sure I’m dressed before sitting down next to him.

“That was perverted,” I whisper.

He chuckles. “Prisoners on death row get a final meal. We deserve a final fuck.”

I close my eyes, and he notices my silence.

“I’m goin’ to get you out of here, Gracie. I swear it.”

“You can’t promise that, Raide.”

He reaches out and curls his fingers around mine. “I will get you out of here. I swear.”

I hope he’s right.

* * *

“Take a few deep breaths, lady,” Raide says, gripping my jaw. “You’ve got this.”

He moved the bookshelf early this morning so I can give it a push and it’ll go where we need it.

“When I say go, you push that as hard as you can.”

I nod, swallowing.

“We’re goin’ to get out of here, but you gotta fight, baby. Can you do that?”

I stand up straight and say in a strong voice, “Yeah, I can.”

He smiles, a half tip of his lips that makes my heart burn for him. “Attagirl.”

I stand behind the bookshelf. We don’t know when they’re going to come in, but we’re not taking any risks. I press my palms against it, push down any fear, and bring out badass Grace. We stand like that for what must be a solid two hours. My hands are aching, my arms hurt, and I’m mostly resting against the bookshelf. Then I hear the sound of the lock being turned.

“Grace,” Raide whispers, “you ready?”

“Ready.” The door opens and I straighten.

“What the—?”

“Now, Grace!” Raide barks.

I shove the bookshelf as hard as I can. It topples forward and I hear a loud, pained cry as it takes someone down. A gun goes off and I leap out before I even have the chance to glance at who or what the bookshelf took down. Raide is tackling a man, his hand curled around the gun in his grips. Another man is half stuck under the bookshelf, but he’s got his gun aimed at Raide. I leap forward and kick the weapon from his hand. It goes skittering across the floor and he hisses a curse at me.

I go to lunge for the pistol but his hand lashes out and catches my ankle. He tugs hard and I go down with a thump onto the floor. With a kick, he manages to free himself from underneath the bookshelf. He throws his body on top of mine.

I drive my elbow up and hit him in the ribs, then I reach back and find his hair. He gets his fingers around my throat and starts squeezing, so I tug his hair, I pull it so hard, a clump of it comes out. He screams and slaps me hard.

Suddenly his weight is off me and he’s rolling across the ground. Raide is still tackling the other man, but he no longer has a gun. It, too, is on the floor. Raide must have kicked him off me while they were wrestling. I don’t waste time. I slide toward the gun and when my fingers curl around it, I want to cry with relief. I turn back to the man I was fighting and see he’s charging toward me again. I aim the gun and shoot, hitting his kneecap. He drops to the floor with a bellow and I quickly tackle him down.

He’s too busy screaming in pain to try to fight anymore, so I get off him and turn to Raide. He’s managed to get his guy down, even with a sore arm. He’s got the man’s arms pulled tightly behind his back, his face pressed to the floor. “Grace, get me those cuffs from his belt.” I rush over and take the cuffs. I snap them on the goon’s wrists and Raide lets him go.

“Let’s get out of here.”

We both rush toward the door. There’s another man lying just near it. He’s got blood trickling from his head and he’s out cold. He must have been hit by the bookshelf. We don’t stay to study him, we just run out of the room. We’re in an old, run-down house. Raide pushes me behind him as we move, making sure no one else is present.

When we get outside, there are two cars lined up. We run toward them and just our luck, they left their keys in one. Why not—it’s secluded out here. We must be a fair way out of town because all I can see is thick trees, a long dirt road, and