Page 77 of Bird on a Blade

My mind has gone blank. I’m certain Sawyer’s not coming.

“What do you want from me?” I whisper, tears turning the question jagged.

In response, Scott lunges at me.

I react purely on instinct, darting sideways—toward the hallway, away from the door. Stupid. But I am stupid, aren’t I? I thought I could trust Sawyer.

I ran into the hallway, tears streaking down my face. Scott is faster, and he grabs me by the arm and jerks me backward so I land hard on my ass, pain shuddering up through my spine.

“This is why you don’t let yourself go.” Scott jerks me across the floor, pulling so hard on my arm that it feels like it’s going to wrench out of its socket. “Fatasses can’t run.”

I’m sobbing now, and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for everything I’ve done in the last month. For being such a stupid fool.

Something thin and cool wraps around my wrist, and I hear a sound like a zipper. I choke back my tears and look over to see that Scott has zip-tied both of my arms to the leg of the heavy wooden coffee table, forcing me to stretch out an awkward angle.

“There,” he says, stepping back with his arms crossed over his chest. “You can stay right there while I call back the others and we can figure out what the fuck is going on here.”

Others?

Scott pulls out his phone and taps against the screen. There’s thewhooshnoise of a sent text. “I figured you hired someone,” he says, still looking down at his phone. “God knows you aren’t exactly capable of taking out two grown men.”

I stare at him, my whole body shaking with a new fear. Sawyer didn’t abandon me. But if there areothers?—

I’ve seen him die once.

What if he dies again?

I pull desperately on the zip tie, flopping my body around. It doesn’t do any good. The plastic digs painfully into my skin, and all I accomplish is jerking my arms around in their sockets.

That’s when I hear it. The echoing report of two rifle blasts from deep in the woods. I scream, adrenaline bursting out of me. All I can think of is Sawyer’s head exploding from a gunshot fifteen years ago.

Scott hears them, too, and he tilts his head, listening. “So you did hire someone. Sounds like one of my boys took care of him, though.” He squats down and looks at me thoughtfully. I glare up at him, desperately trying to hide my fear with anger.

“I wanted to kill you,” he says calmly, turning the phone around in his hand. “But I almost think I like this better.”

“Kidnapping me?” I don’t know how I get it out without sobbing.Sawyer’s still coming, I tell myself. Maybe if I repeat it enough it will be true.

He laughs. “No, of course not. Having you arrested.” He stands back up, shakes out the sleeves of his jacket, glances down at his phone. His face doesn’t give anything away. “This whole little trip was a ruse, wasn’t it? And as soon as I opened the door, you attacked me. Fortunately, I thought you might try something like that, and I was able to subdue you.” He glances at his phone again, frowning, but then slides it into his pocket. “I’m sure once the cops start scouring around here, they’ll find some kind of evidence to prosecute you for the murders.”

I want to snap something back at him, some clever one-liner that will cut him down and put him into place. But he’s right, isn’t he? Sawyer’s a murderer. Two of those murders he did to protect me, but not the others. Which means no one will believe me when I say Scott was trying to kill me first.

Scott gives me a slow, easy smile. “My boys are taking their time, aren’t they? Let me guess—you had your man waiting in the woods to attack me.” Scott laughs. “Well, I bet he can’t go up against three military-trained mercenaries. This is going even better than I expected.”

I scream in both rage and terror, yanking hard on the zip ties.I keep telling myself Sawyer will be here. He hasn’t been shot. He’s still coming. He’s still coming. He’s still coming.

Scott pushes his hand through his hair and gives me one of those appraising looks. “We could kill the time—” he says, then laughs. “Kill! I didn’t even mean to do that.”

I thrash against the coffee table. Tears edge through my lashes, and I blink them away. Scott can see me scream, but I won’t let him see me cry. Never again.

“How about a blowjob for old time’s sake?” He steps toward me, his hand on his belt.

“Fuck you,” I snarl.

“I don’t think so,” Scott says. “Not with you looking like that. But you give good head. Fat girls always do.”

Enraged, I swing my body around, kicking out my legs. Scott sees it coming, but I still manage to clip his ankle. It does nothing. Doesn’t even knock him down. But he lunges at me, shoving my head back against the edge of the coffee table. He does it hard enough that the world blinks black and white.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he says, yanking out his belt. Unzipping his pants. Taking out his half-limp cock. I blink at him, my vision still fuzzy. It’s unreal, what’s happening to me. I feel like my thoughts have split apart from my body. “And if I feel even a hint of teeth?—”

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