Page 103 of His Old Lady

She lifted the lid, and it slipped from her fingers. She flinched. The clink seemed to echo all around her.

If Cal caught her, he'd hurt her. His behavior swung wildly from violent to indulging—both scared her.

Breathing hard, she slowly lifted the lid again, and when the hinge extended all the way and stayed open, relief flooded her. The pistol was inside.

Using both hands, she carefully picked it up by the handle and stood. She looked down the hallway for Cal, and when she declared the area clear, she hurried back to the seat. She needed to get the keys for the door.

With a weapon, she felt more confident that she could force him to let her go.

As soon as her butt landed on the chair, a loud rumble filled the room. She looked over her shoulder, expecting Cal when it dawned on her that the roar came from outside.

All her muscles tensed, and hope consumed her. She recognized that sound—that beautiful sound of a motorcycle.

Could it be one of the Tarkio members? Elliot lived close-by.

Taking a chance, because it might be her only one, she rushed to the door. Adrenaline filled her at the sight of not one but several bikers. She jumped up and down, waving her bound hands above her head, trying to get their attention.

A familiar shaved head and the glint of reflection off sunglasses had her crying in relief.

Curley rode a circle in the empty parking lot, followed by Priest and Whip. When he turned and seemed to be leaving, she cried out. His name only a muffled yell behind the tape wrapped over her mouth.

She moved to claw at the binding around her head, but she couldn't rip the tape using only one hand, and she wasn't going to set the gun down. Curley kept going away from the lounge. She banged the butt of the weapon against the glass, knowing Cal would be able to hear her.

Her chance at getting help dwindled when Curley kept riding away. She cried out for Curley, needing him more now than any other time in her life. What if she never got to see him again? Speak to him? Touch him?

He'd never know how much she could love him. She had so many things she wanted to say and do and experience with him. They had wasted time to make up for. A life to build together.

Curley rode out of sight. She cried out in anguish. Her wail, stripped her of all her strength.

He would never know how sorry she was for getting in Cal's car. He would never know this was not how she wanted them to end.

He would never know he was everything to her. The one person in her life who stayed and hadn't left her.

An arm circled her neck, dragging her backward. Facing Cal was not as scary as losing Curley, she writhed and pitched her body in all directions, trying to get away.

Cal tossed her to the side. She fell against her shoulder. The pistol toppled out of her hand. Against the blinding pain, she scrambled to grab the gun.

Her size and age compared to Cal's heavy body worked to her advantage, she wrapped her fingers around the butt and lifted her arms, pointing the gun, and shouted, "Stop."

The guttural sound that came through the tape stopped her former boss. He frowned as if not believing she held a weapon on him.

Screaming at him, hoping he understood how she'd lost her patience and she was pissed, she waved the barrel of the pistol at him, making him move. She stepped forward, pushing him back to the booth with the power of knowing she'd shoot him if he dared try to stop her, and demanded him to sit.

The dress he'd forced on her drooped off her shoulder. Ignoring the clothing, she sucked air through her nose, feeling lightheaded as if she needed more air.

One thing stood between her and Curley, and she had no qualms about pulling the trigger to make sure she never lost him.

Cal held up his hands. "Baby, let's talk."

She growled, wishing the tape was off her mouth. Trying again to rip at the binding with one hand, she failed to find the end of the tape. She had to get it off.

The scissors. She needed to find the scissors.

She quickly searched the immediate area. Cal had put them somewhere when he'd cut off her clothes.

Not finding them, she assumed he'd taken them to the kitchen. If not, she'd find something there to cut the tape off her. A knife or something sharp. Then she'd leave out the back door. She only needed to run a couple of blocks before she reached the residential area and could knock on someone's door, asking for help.

She motioned for Cal to get up. Thankful when he understood, she motioned with the gun for him to walk. Staying behind him, out of arm's length of him, she forced him down the hallway. She grunted at the doorway to the kitchen. He looked behind him, and she pointed.

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