Page 98 of Vengeful Union

I yelp, jolted forward, putting my hands out to brace myself on the dashboard as the airbag pops out.

“Lara!” Rory yells, his eyes wild as he looks at me.

Stunned, my head spinning, I check myself over.

“I’m all right,” I mumble, and quickly look him over, seeing if he’s all right, too, but he’s checking the rearview mirror again and pulling his gun from the sheath at his lower back.

“Stay in the car.”

Everything seems so fuzzy. I guess I’m in some kind of shock, because it feels like I’m outside my body, watching as Rory kicks open the car door, knocking a man to the ground.

I put my hand on the door handle, but then remember Rory’s order.

But what if he needs help? There’s probably more than one man?—

I can’t finish the thought because someone breaks the window, long arms reaching out to grab at me.

I scream, a reedy sound that seems like it’s coming from far away.

I scramble into the backseat to get away from the grabbing hands, but the man comes to the back seat window, grinning through the glass as I cower against the far door.

I can hear a struggle outside, hear Rory fighting with the other guy, and I scream again, louder, putting power into it so that Rory can hear me.

The back door is opening when I hear gunshots.

One.

Two.

Three.

I put my hands over my head, rolling into a ball the way that Da taught me. He’d always told me that when I heard gunshots, I should get low, curl up so that I’m as small as possible.

The man with the toothy grin grabs my arm, his grip bruising on my skin, and I jerk away, yelling, coming out of my defensive stance to kick at him with my heels.

My shoe comes off in his hand as he tries to grab my ankle and falls to the ground.

My heart races, my head fuzzy with terror, and I just know I’m going to be taken, taken by one of Murphy’s enemies, and now I’m a Murphy, too. They won’t go easy on me.

The man grunts, his arms grabbing at me everywhere, and he finally gets ahold of my arm in a better grip and pulls me toward the door.

More gunshots.

One.

Two.

The man slowly loses his predatory grin as he slumps forward, and there’s a hole in the back of his head.

I scream again, my hand fumbling on the car door handle and stumbling out, landing hard on my knee and scraping it against the pavement. I pay no mind to the blood trickling down from the wound.

I have to run, have to go, but I look back, worried about Rory, and someone grabs me around the waist, pulling me backward.

I scream as loud as I can, praying that Rory hears me.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

28

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