Page 1 of Getting it Right (Addy's Rollercoaster)

Addy

“Stop, Addy.” Grabbing me by the shoulder, Arturo turned me around. In the parking lot, wind whipped my hair, and a driving rain assaulted me.

“No!” I sobbed, frantically twisting in his grip. “I won’t go back to him. I won’t.” Frustrated tears burned my eyes when I realized I couldn’t break his hold.

“Calm down.” He swept me into his arms, lifting my wet feet off the pavement. “Fuck, you’re freezing.”

Cradling me like a baby, he quickly strode to the town car. In my panic, I hadn’t noticed it. The vehicle was idling, exhaust puffing from the tailpipe.

Has he been following me the whole time?

I struggled harder as he approached the car. The windows were tinted. Although I couldn’t see Martin inside, I knew he had to be there.

Desperate now, I grabbed the lapels of Arturo’s blazer. “Give me your gun.”

Frowning, he set my feet back down on the wet concrete. “You can’t shoot him.”

“Not him.” I tried to get his Glock out of his holster, but my hands were so cold that I couldn’t feel them, making me clumsy.

“Fuck, Addy.” He pushed my hands away, easily deflecting me. “No.”

“Please.” Despair overwhelming me, I dropped as my legs buckled. “Please, please help me.”

Arturo caught me, his fingers clamping around my upper arms, and I renewed struggling. I couldn’t do it anymore. I wouldn’t go back—I’d rather die than do that. My teeth chattered with cold and fear.

“In the car.” Yanking the rear passenger door open, he shoved my head down, trying to push me inside.

Desperate, I fought him. I kicked, pelting his chest with my frozen fists, but my efforts were ineffectual.

“He’s not in there,” Arturo muttered as he crammed me inside, and I sprang back toward the opening. “Martin’s not there.”

Martin’s bodyguard shook his head at me, unleashing rain his short hair had captured. Turning around, I saw he told the truth.

“Where is he?” I asked, blinking up at him.

“Miranda’s.” His heavy brow furrowed. “I thought you knew.”

I did know, but I thought with Arturo finding me that I’d gotten it wrong.

He grunted. “Move out of the way.”

That dark gaze aimed at my legs as he started to slam the door, but I jerked them back just in time. Shivering, I watched wide-eyed as he got into the driver’s seat.

He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Where on earth were you planning to run to? You have no shoes, no protection from the rain, no coat.”

“His father’s house.” I wrapped my arms around myself, but my teeth continued to chatter, and I couldn’t stop shivering.

“Why go there?” Arturo continued to stare at me as though I were a puzzle he couldn’t figure out.

“Will you help me?” Pinning all my hopes on a softening in his expression that I’d never seen before, I begged again. “Please. I’m desperate. You know I am. And you know why.”

When he frowned, my heart stuttered. I shouldn’t have said that last part. It sounded accusing.

I hunched my ears into my wet shoulders, wrapping my arms around myself. “It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t help you,” he said with a sigh. He did feel guilty. I saw the regret. “He’ll kill me.”

Arturo raked a hand through his short dark hair. Belatedly, I realized how much he looked like a young Sylvester Stallone with his full lips, prominent nose, and chin that bore a faint scar.

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