fingernails into the sinews of his forearm and force her head lower into the crook of his elbow.
At last, a deep breath. Her vision began to clear and her mind sharpened.
“Help!” she screamed. She remembered an old feminist adage. “Fire! Help! FIRE!”
Still ducking her chin to her chest, she twisted to the side and drove her elbow into his ribs. That gave her enough freedom to lift her arm for a second blow, this one aimed low and furious at his groin. But he caught her arm and yanked it up behind her back, twisting her shoulder painfully. He forced her to bend over.
“Careful, bitch,” he said, his previous, creepy calm shaken. “Save your energy for when we get home.”
Her shoulder was screaming in pain. Only moments had gone by since Paul had left—and other people were bound to come by any second. He was insane to attack her in the middle of a city street—
“In the car,” he said with another violent tug, “or I break your arm.”
Whatever you do, never let the bad guys get you in a car. In spite of the pain, she let her knees buckle and her own body weight pulled them both towards the ground. She stared at a filthy Snicker's Bar wrapper below her in the patchy grass and focused on aiming her next kick.
“Why are you fighting me?” he gasped. “I'm not going to hurt you. You're the one who hurt me, remember? You assaulted me and I got blamed for it. I answered your ad and now I have a police record. How do you think that makes me feel?”
Still shouting for help, Bonnie landed a glancing kick in his kneecap, but the man knocked her to the ground, captured her hands, and pressed his knee into her throat. He was just too damn heavy to fight off. But she tried.
“Stop struggling, girlie. Say you'll come with me and I'll let you breathe.”
He was nuts. Any second somebody would see them, wouldn't they? Where was everybody? Grateful for the years of tummy crunches, she curled her legs up and tried to hook her feet around his head. She settled for a kick to the ear instead, which just made him push his knee down harder on her throat until her vision went dim at the edges.
Focus on breathing. Just focus on breathing.
Chapter 11
Paul was several blocks away when he realized he hadn't seen her distinctive red Beetle following him. He was only going ten miles an hour; she should have caught up by now. Worried she might get lost—or worse, change her mind—he pulled over to the curb and watched the rearview mirror. But she still didn't appear.
Maybe she had changed her mind again.
You promised to be patient, he told himself.
Scowling at the empty street, Paul swore and turned the car around. “Not that patient,” he muttered to himself. “Let's be realistic.”
He sped back the way he'd come and spotted her still-parked VW right before he saw what was happening on the ground beside it. Nearly crashing his car into a parked Escalade, Paul swerved over to the side of the road and leapt out with his heart pounding in his mouth.
“Stay back, asshole, or the whore gets a lesson.” It was the dickwad that should have been in jail. He had his knee at Bonnie's neck, her wrists pulled over her head on the ground, and wore a shit-eating grin that Paul was going to smash off his face.
“You stupid fuck,” Paul said. “Now they'll really put you away.”
His creepy-handsome face twisted into a smile. “But at least it'll be worth it.” He looked down at Bonnie. “And you're going to watch.”
Paul's senses began to shift and narrow, so that all he could see was Bonnie's frantic eyes and the choking weight at her throat, all he could hear was her labored breathing, and all he could taste was the blood in his mouth from biting down hard on his lips so he couldn't lose control of himself and inadvertently hurt her. Any sudden move might make the man panic and crush her voice box. If Paul moved slowly and calmly, Bonnie's neck would be safe. He just needed a little time to get closer.
“Hey, easy,” Paul said. Obviously, the man was more than just an evil fuck, he was crazy. Insanely reckless, like a man with nothing to lose. As he approached, buying time, he pulled out his phone and pressed 9-1-1.
“Run,” Bonnie gasped. “Help.”
“Hang up! Hang up!”