Page 84 of The Woman with the Wallet

I crashed to the floor, a thousand little gemstones biting into me at the impact.

But there was no time to focus on that.

I flipped over and scrambled backward, knowing that if I just got far enough, I could get to the gun.

My attacker reached down, though, grabbing my ankle, and dragging me back across the floor. There was nothing I could do to stop him. He was bigger. Stronger. And there was nothing to grab to keep myself in place.

My hands flew out, grabbing for anything around me.

There was nothing as convenient as a knife. But my hand closed around a pair of the pliers Lil used for work. It wasn’t the needle-nosed ones that I could have used to ram through this bastard’s eye. It was one of the blunted ones, meant for trimming metal.

But it was all I had.

So as soon as he had me in the middle of the room, likely trying to keep me from the gun, he lowered down again, hand going toward my throat.

Mustering every bit of strength I had, I plunged the pliers out toward his face.

Seeing it, though, he shifted just enough for the blow to land on his nose instead of his soft eye.

Still, he’d already been hit, and the impact had his eyes flooding with tears as he reared back, cursing.

It wasn’t much of an opening but I scrambled away, heading toward the kitchen, to the knives, pans, or, hell, even a meat tenderizer I might find there.

It was then, though, that I saw something.

Someone.

Lil was crawling across the ground, her face so bloodied and swollen that I barely recognized her.

But in my distraction, our attacker caught up, slamming his hands into my back, sending me flying into the refrigerator so quickly that I couldn’t even throw out my hands to brace the impact.

My wind knocked out, leaving me gasping, panic starting to swirl through my head when I couldn’t draw in a proper breath.

He was right on me then, his forearm pressed against the back of my neck, his ragged breath in my ear.

“Max,” Lil called, her voice small. But it was enough to shock me out of my inaction.

Then I was fighting for my life. And Lil’s. Since I knew that if he finished me, he would go back for her. Clean house.

And I already knew he was cold and capable of murder.

So I flailed, scratched, bit.

When I got enough room to turn, I did. Then I could hit, slap, claw, knee, kick.

He stumbled back a foot when my knee came up to his crotch with as much force as I could muster.

“Max!” Lil called, making me look just in time to see her get to the gun, then whip it across the hardwood floor toward me.

I rushed forward, scrambling for it.

There was no hesitation once I had it in my hands.

I turned, slid my finger to the trigger.

And fired.

Once. Twice.

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