Page 74 of Royal Flush

I stood like a fucking statue with my eyes wide open.

There was no question the two bastards were here for me. How had they found me? By the time the ugly spell was broken and I finally found my voice, one of the assholes had jerked me into a tiny back alley, so tiny I was shocked a SUV of its size had even fit. My grip on the phone remained tight, the shriek I issued shrill.

But it was short lived as a hand was slapped over my mouth and nose, the bastard even pinching my nostrils as he threw open the back door, attempting to pitch me inside.

There was no hero coming to the rescue this time, no knight in shining armor. I’d screwed up bigtime and would pay the ultimate price.

With my life.

While I tried to fight, the huge man who’d grabbed me shoved his way in beside me, slamming the door. When I managed to punch him in the face, he backhanded me, snarling like some beast in the wild. The pain was blinding, the stars rushing in front of my eyes finally forcing a sob from my throat.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled.

The other perpetrator was in the driver’s seat, his door barely closed when he slammed his foot down on the accelerator. I was pretty certain I wouldn’t make it past a couple of days without finding myself with a bullet in my brain.

“Where… are you taking me?” My voice was shaky but getting stronger.

“You’ll see, little bitch.”

The jerks were just like the others. I tried to remember the self-defense training I’d received, compliments of my father. I hadn’t taken it seriously given I’d yet to turn eighteen. I’d been far too busy packing to leave for America, determined to put the past behind me.

Now I was furious I hadn’t paid closer attention.

What I did remember was that if they managed to take me more than two miles away from the original kidnapping site, I was a goner. Yes, my father was rich. Yes, he could pay a handsome ransom, but my gut told me money meant nothing.

The driver was picking up speed, not caring he smashed into boxes and a couple of trashcans. Was he really planning on barreling into traffic?

I had to get the hell out of here. Or at least stop the progress. I did two things. I reared back, planting my foot in the guy’s chest and I reached for the door handle, managing to open the door. As my bad luck would have it, the alley was too narrow, the door scraping against the brick façade of several buildings.

This time the brutal backhand was done with a gun. Now my ears were ringing but at least I was screaming at the top of my lungs.

“Hold the bitch, for God’s sake,” the driver hissed.

“Go. Get us the fuck out of here,” the asshole snorted.

I struggled to sit, hot tears streaming down my face. I was a dead woman and there was nothing I could do about it.

Who’d been the person to say everything happened for a reason? Whoever it was might be brilliant, certainly more so than I was.

Now I knew why I liked thriller flicks, gravitating toward them instead of shit like love stories or rom-coms. I’d convinced myself a long time ago waiting for a warrior on a steed holding a wicked-looking sword wasn’t going to happen to me. I’d had to learn to use the blade myself, yet I’d failed.

Instead, the movie kicked into the final chase scene, the sudden appearance of a man holding a weapon with both hands perhaps the best thing I’d ever seen or experienced in my life.

Maybe some of the training I’d received had locked into the darkest part of my memory banks or maybe it was all about the instinct for survival.

I pressed myself against the seat, quickly buckling myself in.

Was it possible some centrifugal force had come into play? My mind was spinning yet the world around me was slowing. And in the few seconds before it seemed the world came to an end, the driver was bellowing at the top of his lungs.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!

The shots kept coming, the other strange pinging sounds a clear indication the vehicle had been hit. But with all incredible moments of heroism, fear remained.

And seconds later, I realized I’d need to learn to follow my gut more closely. Another clunk shot through the SUV and two seconds later, the vehicle was in the air. I could feel it, the inertia that always happened for me when a plane was taking off or I was riding a rollercoaster.

As I turned my head, all I noticed other than the sky billowing all around us was blood. What had to be brain matter was splattered against the driver’s window, a hole clear through the asshole’s head. A strong metallic scent hit my nose and instead of being nauseated, repulsed in any way, I was excited.

The fucker had gotten what he deserved.

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