Page 5 of Throttle

“Who are—” My words are cut short when his hand smacks down on my face as I lie on the floor. My ears are ringing from the blow to the head, and now a sharp sting spreads across my cheek.

“Shut up, cunt,” he sneers. “Don’t you fucking make a sound.”

Anger radiates from him as he glares at me. He grits his teeth before jerking me up from the floor by my silky white blouse. I scramble to my feet to make a run for the door, but the man holds me tighter, tugging me towards him. I know exactly why he’s here—his presence proves my client was serious about killing me.

He forces me to my tiptoes, inching closer until he’s a hair’s breadth from my face. “The boss should have been a free man tonight. He should be home with us, drinking and fucking until sunrise.” Something hard and cold wedges painfully against my rib cage, and I bite down a cry. “But you fucked up. I told him not to trust no bitch lawyer. Bitches are good for fucking, not speaking in a courtroom.”

If I don’t do something soon, I’m going to die.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been surrounded by bad men. It’s par for the course when it comes to my line of work. Having personally represented some of them, my father and Lucien made sure I could take care of myself. They enrolled me in self-defense classes, and I added kickboxing lessons in case a situation like this were to ever happen.

Thinking back on the tactics I learned years ago, I recall my instructor teaching us about dropping your weight and letting gravity help you. And I’m no featherweight. I’ve got plenty of curves for gravity to work with.

Pushing down the painful throbbing in my head and shoulder and focusing on my escape plan, I quickly sink into a fast squat. My attacker loses his grip on me, and I use the opportunity to shield myself from his weapon with a side-swipe of my forearm. A slight shuffle to the side, then I aim for his balls as I drive my fist forward with my weight behind the blow.

He doubles over with a loud grunt, just as I expected. So I grab his ears and force his head into my knee as I lift it to bash him in the face. Then, I land a swift kick to his kneecap that yields a satisfying pop followed by a bellowing cry. But there’s no time to spare celebrating his injuries, because I know he won’t be down for long. Without wasting a second, I scurry to the door and throw it open, yanking my keys from the lock and scooping up my dropped purse as I dart from the condo.

Relief washes over me when I glance back and realize he’s yet to give chase. But my reprieve is short-lived when I reach my car and spot two or three men emerging from their hiding places, all sharing the same scornful expression. I rip open the driver’s side door and jump inside, watching Tony’s men stalk closer to my vehicle. My heart threatens to explode as I press the ignition button with a trembling hand, sparking the car to life. The men run at me full speed with guns drawn while they shout hateful obscenities.

Get the fuck outta here, Sienna. Just dri?—

“Ahhhhh!” My scream echoes in the enclosed space when a thunderous thump snatches my attention.

I almost jump out of my skin, my head snapping to the left, where I see a menacing face staring at me through my window. He grins wickedly at me, cruelty shadowing his dark eyes. I clutch my steering wheel and stomp on the gas, driving the hell out of there and away from Tony’s men. From the rearview mirror, I watch them pile into two cars, their headlights glowing to life as they take off from the parking lot.

And now, the real chase begins.

4

SIENNA

Irace down the streets of Carnage, maneuvering around cars, desperately trying to escape my attackers. Thank God it’s nighttime, and there aren’t many people on the road whose safety I have to worry about. But it also means there isn’t much out here to put between me and this band of psychos right on my tail. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what their plans are when they get their hands on me. They’ll desecrate my body before dumping it where no one will find me. My heart aches at the thought of Lucien never knowing what happened.

Fuck you, Tony Bertelli. I wish I never met you.

I’m jarred from my thoughts when my car jerks forward after being rammed. A glance in the mirror reveals a muscled thug with a sinister scowl behind the wheel—the bastard gives me a mocking two-finger salute.

Shit, shit, shit.

Another slam to my rear bumper, and my face almost hits the steering wheel from the impact. We’re close to the outskirts of town. There’s nowhere to go, but I can’t drive forever. I have to get off these streets. I stomp on the gas, looking for somewhere to turn, but the car behind me rams my back corner, making me swerve off the road.

I fishtail through a field just beyond a new, unoccupied subdivision, trying to regain control of the vehicle, but it’s no use. By the time I spot the tree line of woods, I hit the brakes too late, and my car slams into the trunk of a thick pine. My face stings, and burning smoke fills my lungs after the airbags deploy. There’s broken glass everywhere, and I feel like I’ve been cut in two from the seat belt that I have no doubt saved me from being ejected. Shock and adrenaline flood my aching muscles while a constant ringing in my ears blocks all other noise.

In the distance, I see dust clouds forming from tires moving over dirt. Though I’m gasping at air while my hands visibly shake, I know I can’t stay here in this car.

Think, Sienna! You can get out of this. Just think.

I refuse to focus on the pain, knowing it’s a matter of seconds until these monsters find me. I grab my purse from the passenger floorboard, clutching it for dear life, and climb into the back. I don’t want them to see me open the door to exit the vehicle, so I pull the seat back, crawl into the trunk, and then use the shoulder belt to pull the rest upright into its original place.

Thank god I’m vertically challenged and can fit my pint-sized, chunky ass in this trunk!

Curling into a ball, I close a hand over my mouth to keep from crying out as multiple sets of footsteps approach me. The ringing in my head has somewhat subsided, and I can hear them checking my car to see where I might be hiding.

Please, don’t look in the trunk. Please, don’t look in the trunk.

“Fucking shit!” an angry voice belts out.

“Where the fuck is she?” another questions.

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