Until We Crash - Michele G Miller Page 0,93

point A to point B without melting like the Wicked Witch of the West was a priority. Plus, the deck abuts the restaurant we're meeting the guys at, much closer than any spot we'd find in the parking lot on a Friday night.

"Should we move the car?" Chase asks as we round the curve of the ramp and head for the staircase.

"Nah. Carter knows we're in here. You know he'll find my car and park beside us."

"I'd say I'm surprised they aren't here by now, but they were way into the new project. Filming one hundred million takes."

I laugh. My idea of starting a web show was a hit. They're seeing nice traffic for only two weeks live, but Chase says it slows everything down. Damn perfectionists, Owen and Carter are. I refuse to stop by if they're filming, it will drive me batty.

"New project. The truck, right?" Carter's excitement when he told me about their first one-hundred-percent custom build for a client was contagious.

"Yeah, a C-10. It's—"

"Well, if it isn't my lucky night."

I jerk back, locking my elbow, and Chase, at my side, as Sonny McKinney steps in front of us when we turn into the stairwell.

"How's your daddy, whore?"

Chase draws a sharp breath and fights my hold. "Who the hell—"

"Don't," I hiss, elbowing her in the side and catching her fiery gaze. We're alone in a dim parking deck with the asshole who plied my father with drugs and alcohol and turned him against me. My fighting instinct kicks in. A slap across his face won't be enough this time. Forcing Chase behind me, I step into his space.

"What do you want with me, huh?" I peer up into his angry eyes. "My mom slept with your dad, right? What happened, she ruined your idyllic family? Mommy found out and—"

His hand strikes like a snake. One moment his arm is at his side; the next, my neck is in his grasp. "Shut up, you fucking bitch."

"Hey!" Chase's ineffectual fists bounce off Sonny's arm as he slams me against the concrete wall. "Take your hands off her."

"Go." I mouth, my fingernails clawing at his forearm.

"Yes, baby Cooper, run. You're not the one I want." Sonny sneers.

After meeting my gaze, Chase spins, her hand digging for the cell phone in her purse before she's out of sight.

Sonny calls after her. "Of course, Warren may want to play with you."

Chase yelps, footsteps echo, and a deep male voice fills the garage. Shit. I attempt yelling her name, but it isn't loud enough to wake a baby as he tightens his hold on my neck. Sonny covers my mouth with his free hand and pins my body with his side.

"Your boyfriend has made a nuisance out of himself. Following me around town, threatening me." His spittle hits my face. "I thought I'd return the favor."

I'm immobile. Locked in place by his athletic, oversized frame. I shake my head, having no idea what he's talking about, and his eyes grow wide. "You didn't know, did you?" He loosens his clutch on my neck. "Here's what's about to happen, gorgeous.

"My buddies and I will go after your boy. His business, his sister, his mother's shop"—Sonny’s face presses closer, his lips grazing the side of my jaw as he speaks— "or you spread those sexy little legs wide open for me."

I growl, jerking against his weight as his hand slips between my thighs and paws me. My stomach clenches. "Let's go."

Gripping my arm, he spins me toward the stairs that lead to the top level of the garage, and I'm living in a horror movie. This can't be happening to me. To Chase. Chase? I shout her name into his palm and fight his hold with every step we take.

"Don't worry, whore. Warren's a sick son of a bitch, but he won't hurt her, too badly."

No! She will not suffer because of me. He will not … I transform into a dead weight on the third step, dropping to the concrete staircase with heavy knees and jolting his hand from my mouth.

"You disgusting bastard!" I scream the moment I'm free.

Using my leverage at being knee level, I throw my body against his lower half. The impact shifts him off balance enough that he loses his grip on me. And that leaves me flying backward. The fall is only three steps, but I throw my hands over my head to protect my neck, leaving me vulnerable to the full impact of my spine hitting the concrete

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