experience, the eye is just about anyone’s most vulnerable spot. Lots of soft tissue to damage, some delicate bones that can shatter, and let’s face it, there’s a certain terror factor to feeling your eye squish.
I needed him facing me, and closer.
“Are you posing for a picture or something?” I jeered, and he finally managed to drag his attention away from the ex-house.
“I was observing a moment of silence for Anderson,” he replied with heavy sarcasm, and though he was looking at me, I could tell his attention was still divided. Which was good, because if he realized I had a weapon within my reach (sort of), he might decide to shoot me before coming any closer.
“But if you’re impatient to find out what I have planned for you, I’ll be happy to hurry things along.”
He was smiling his smug smile, jovial, arrogant, secure in his victory. Just the way I wanted him. He took a whopping two steps in my direction before he noticed the positioning of my feet. His eyes widened, and as he stepped backward, he reached for the gun still sticking out of his pants.
I wanted him closer, but it was now or never.
Putting every bit of strength I could muster into it, I scooped up the piece of brick, using the backs of my feet rather like a lacrosse stick, and kicked my bound legs as hard as I could toward Konstantin’s face.
I had taken Jamaal’s eye out once with a well-aimed toss of a stiletto-heeled shoe, but I wasn’t quite as lucky this time. The brick hit Konstantin’s eye, and he fell to the ground with a gratifying scream of pain, but though he clutched the socket, there was no sign of blood leaking through his fingers.
I hadn’t taken out his eye, but for a few precious moments, he was going to be in too much pain to retaliate. I couldn’t let him have time to recover.
I spotted another piece of brick, even smaller than the first, positioned between me and Konstantin. I wriggled toward it and kicked it at Konstantin’s head. He was protecting his wounded eye with his hand, but his other eye made a good target.
The second piece of brick didn’t hurt him as much. The hand that wasn’t clutching his wounded eye pulled his gun from his belt, and I had to duck as he fired a couple of blind shots in my direction. I suspected he’d get me with a lucky shot before I was able to pitch enough debris at him to incapacitate him, so I needed another plan.
I hunched in on myself, making myself as small a target as possible, then tried to contort myself enough to get my cuffed hands down below my butt. I’d tried this maneuver when I’d been duct taped in the trunk of the car and hadn’t been able to manage it, but I had a lot more freedom of movement out here in the open. I practically tore both arms out of their sockets to do it, but I managed to get first my butt, then my legs, through the circle of my arms so my hands were in front of me. Still cuffed together, but it was an improvement.
Konstantin fired off another shot, and it splashed up muddy snow way too close to my head for comfort. He tried to fire again, but he was out of ammo.
“Probably shouldn’t have wasted so many bullets on Anderson,” I taunted, because I couldn’t resist.
Konstantin dropped his hand from his eye, and though it was closed and swollen and obviously painful, he was going to be back to full capacity way sooner than I would like.
“I have more,” he growled at me, reaching into his pants pocket.
Of course he did.
Bracing myself with my hands, I pushed to my feet. I could move a little by shuffling, but by the time I got anywhere, Konstantin would be reloaded. He might not be able to aim as well as he’d like with one eye swollen shut, but I doubted he’d have any trouble hitting me with a full clip at his disposal. So instead of taking little shuffle-steps, I bunny-hopped.
I probably looked pretty ridiculous, but aesthetics were the last thing on my mind. I hopped toward another piece of debris, then bent to retrieve it and hurl it at Konstantin’s hands. I didn’t even know what I had thrown. It wasn’t big or heavy enough to do damage, but it did cause him to drop