Page 120 of Love Him Like Water

Taking a deep breath, I stabbed my finger into the ignition button. But… nothing.

I tried again, tapping one of the pedals.

Then, finally, as my foot hit the other pedal, the engine purred to life.

I didn’t waste a second, knowing that it wouldn’t last long if the guy so much as moved away from the car.

I yanked the gear into reverse, and shoved my foot against the accelerator, feeling my belly bottom out as the car flew backward immediately, crashing hard into the door.

I hadn’t anticipated it holding up against the crash.

Or remembered the airbag.

Until it was exploding outward, smashing into my face, scraping across my skin, the impact like a blow to the side of my face, which took most of the abuse.

My neck snapped back, another pain making my eyes water.

I remembered almost before it was too late to press my finger into the lock again as the driver tossed the fob, making the engine cut.

Figuring there was no more chance of escape this way, my free hand reached to slide the gear back into park as the airbag deflated, leaving just the pain behind as I stared at an increasingly angry Michael as he screamed something at the driver.

The driver’s cold eyes slid to me, his jaw tight, not a drop of sympathy in his eyes as he turned suddenly, walking away from me.

Then coming back less than a moment later, a crowbar in his hand.

I thought he would go for the passenger door. Or the backseat.

But he came right up beside me, arm raised, slamming the bar into the window.

Once.

Twice.

The glass spiderwebbed.

Three times.

Then it broke inward toward me, pieces of glass getting caught under my hands on the seat as I tried to push myself away, cutting into my palms.

He reached inside, slicing his arm in the process, not even wincing as the blood dripped down his arm and over the car, unlocking the door, then yanking it open.

“Get your ass out here,” he snarled at me, shocking me as instead of reaching to grab me by the arm or around the waist, he gathered a handful of my hair, and yanked savagely, leaving me no choice but to fall out of the car, my back cracking against the bottom of it before I dropped to the cement floor.

I didn’t know which pain was worse then.

The slamming in my skull from the pistol whipping before. The way each strand of hair screamed as he pulled. My face and neck from the crash. Or the aching pain in my lower back from crashing into the car.

It all seemed to mingle together, this awful symphony of pain that overtook me completely as I continued to be dragged across the floor.

I reached up, trying to grab my hair above his hold to ease the sting.

But I stopped even trying as I was yanked up a step, my back colliding with the edge of that as well, making stupid, useless tears sting my eyes.

I pressed my lips together, trying not to cry out, to give him the satisfaction he was likely looking for.

The pain on my scalp eased, at least, as the door slammed behind us, and Michael said to the driver, “Just drop her there.”

I was released, and I let myself lower to the floor, curling up on my side, knees to chest, trying to protect as much of myself as possible.

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