Page 108 of Cruel Lies

Bonnie didn’t seem as eager to end this fast. She turned toher cohort, her partner in crime, and pouted like a fucking child. "But Clyde, you said we could havefun?—"

"Bitch, I told you, let me do the talking. I’m not really gonna make it easy on her. I just want her to make it easy onus."

There was no easy choice here. Obviously, they planned to shoot me.

The only question was, did I plan to sit here and take it like a bitch? Or did I plan to go full suicidal and fight them head-on? Or, the third option, I could run and hope they weren’t eager to shoot me in the back.

One-on-one, I might stand a chance. But there were two of them, and the second they emerged from the car and stepped onto the pavement, I made my choice.

"Get fucked, assholes. I’m no easy mark."

I stepped closer and took my wrench to the windshield, shattering it pretty nicely so they wouldn’t be able to see shit out the front. And then, I did what any intelligent person with nothing to lose but her life would do.

I turned the fuck around, and I ran.

The phone all but forgotten, I slammed my feet on the pavement, every step jarring all the way to my shins, rattling my head and making it hard to see straight as my headache turned into a full-blown migraine, and the first hints of a panic attack spiraled up from my core.

Faster, bitch. You have to run faster.

Someone was following me on foot, and they were gaining. My only chance was to slow them down enough that I could get away.

Without looking, I turned and hurled the wrench in their general direction. I didn’t wait to see if I’d hit them, I just doubled my speed, pushing myself to my damn limits, each breath like hot, jagged steel blades in my lungs, ripping me apart as I tried desperately to escape certain death.

"Fuck you, bitch!" Clyde yelled, pain lacing his words as Irealized he’d actually taken a hit from my wild throw. "You can only run so far, but eventually, we’ll catch you."

Not if I can help it.

I turned another corner, and the lights bathed me immediately in their fluorescent glow, bringing a semblance of hope to me.

And then I felt the jarringthumpof something hitting my lower torso from behind and winced as my speed slowed to a near crawl.

Can’t stop now. Keep going.

I ran through the pain, somehow compartmentalizing it so well it ceased to exist for a moment. A second hit slammed into my side, just beside my kidney, and I sucked in a breath and screamed, praying someone would hear me and come to help.

Bitch, this isn’t the good part of town. You’ve just successfully guaranteed that people will lock their doors and pretend not to be home. You just killed yourself.

I was so focused on escape that I missed the massive chunk of dislodged sidewalk looming before me.

My foot caught on it, taking me down hard. I lost my phone in the fall, the wind was knocked out of me, and I was seeing double now. Fuzzy doubles, at that.

Things were not looking good.

I forced myself to my knees just as a fucking dirtbike engine sounded in the distance, getting closer as the seconds ticked by. I closed my eyes and tried to inhale, failing miserably, gasping for air as I choked on the lack of it in my body. I was still clutching my chest and wheezing as a dirtbike skidded to a stop beside me, and none other than Jackal from the Neon Dogs leaned over and offered me a hand.

"Looks like you need a ride, sugar tits."

Something in my eyes must’ve alerted him to the seriousness of the situation, because he glanced over my shoulder just intime to see Bonnie and Clyde following me, guns in hand and pointed in our direction.

"Fuck. Get on, quick, bitch," he snarled, grabbing my hand to yank me on the bike behind him as he spun his back tire in an arc on the asphalt and skidded away like a bolt of lightning.

The last thing I remembered was a few wildly off-target gunshots, and then I blacked out as the wind whipped by me, speeding through traffic, nothing but Jackal’s hand over mine around his waist keeping me on the back of the damn bike.

FORTY-FIVE

NASH

I’d never run fasterto that damn car in all my life. Hell, I didn’t even bother slipping the seat up to get in the damn thing.

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