“Not another step,” Vince said and I felt the cold against my temple.
Mace froze.
Mace was carrying a gun, held up and pointed at us, left hand to his right wrist, head cocked to the sight of the gun but his eyes shifted to my temple.
My eyes slid there too.
I could see Vince’s gun held to my head.
Wonderful.
Now, at this juncture I had two choices. I could get dragged out of there and hope someone found me and took care of Vince before I got raped and possibly kil ed.
Or I could fight, maybe get kil ed but at least I wouldn’t spend the last hours of my life being scared out of my mind and violated.
No choice, real y.
I brought my head forward, then back with a vicious snap. I cracked my skul against Vince’s chin and for some reason, it didn’t hurt.
The gun fired and I felt the burning pain at my temple.
Now that hurt.
I thought surely I was dead, but my limbs were stil taking orders from a brain that was stil working and positioned in my skul and I noticed Mace move, fast as lightning.
Vince’s arm around me went slack when he went into defend mode, forgetting me when faced with an aggressor who, one second, was five feet away, the next second, on top of us.
Mace grabbed me and threw me free and since apparently I could run, I did.
I heard a struggle, a grunt of pain but I kept going and didn’t look back.
I went down running, doing a sliding skid on my knees, stopping next to Shirleen. I had time to get my hands on her and noticed she was breathing when a strong arm went around my waist. I was pul ed to my feet and redirected.
It was Mace, he was running, half dragging me along with him. I remembered his orders and didn’t try to go back even though I real y, really wanted to.
We cleared the bar, running flat out, Mace’s hand in mine, to an SUV. The locks and lights were bleeping as we ran toward it (I found, in a desperate situation I could run in stiletto heels).
He directed me straight to the driver’s side. He picked me up and shoved me through to the passenger side, got in, started the truck and took off without either of us wearing seatbelts.
He drove down Colfax, then swung into an empty parking lot and round the back of some building. He braked, kil ed the lights and turned to me.
Before I knew what he was doing, his fingers closed on my chin and he gently pul ed my face around. It was the dead of night and there were no lights where we were.
There was no way he could see but I could tel he was looking.
“Graze,” he said, though I didn’t know how he could determine that in the dark.
Then he muttered, “Fuck.”
He let me go, looked forward, and I got the weird feeling he slipped somewhere else for a moment.
Then he shouted, “Fuck! ” And that one word was like a control ed, muted, explosion that I was surprised didn’t shake the windows.
I put my hand to my head, tentatively exploring the wetness there but I could feel it wasn’t that bad. I’d skinned my knees worse.
“I’ve skinned my knees worse,” I told him.
At my words, he turned, his arm went around my waist, he yanked me across the seat and then he kissed me.