Page 63 of The Killer She Knew

She was out of time. Leigh gripped the plunger of the syringe and jerked it to one side. The zip tie around her right wrist broke. She had a hand free and went for the left. The ties around her ankles snapped with less effort, but they were still enough to slow her down.

Ford twisted to face her, gun in hand. He raised it level with her chest. “Where do you think you’re going? We haven’t finished our conversation.”

“Really? I thought I made my point clear.” Her body temperature hit the ceiling. Too hot. Too charged with whatever amphetamine he’d injected her with. Her heart beat out ofcontrol. A raging bull in a china shop. She couldn’t take a full breath. Every cell in her body on fire. “I’m canceling our date.”

“And here I had such high hopes for us.” Ford pulled the trigger.

The gun jammed.

She didn’t have time to feel the relief as the marshal lunged. He arced the weapon down. The butt slammed into her shoulder. Then again. Agony tore at her former injury straight down to the bone, but she was still standing. Still fighting.

Leigh let him come at her again, using Ford’s momentum against him. He overstepped on the next assault. Dropping his shoulder and leaving his back open for attack. She fisted that ridiculously unwrinkled button-down and thrust him into the nearest wall as hard as she could. His face planted hard against cinderblock. Ford was faster. Stronger. More brutal considering he’d managed to take down six—now seven—fully grown men, but she’d had to make up for her size all her life.

Ford’s elbow slammed into her face. The crunch of bone ricocheted around her head before the pain registered. Lightning struck behind her eyes at the impact. Blood flowed down the back of her throat and into her mouth as she fell back. She coughed blood onto her sweatshirt. Giving Ford all the time he needed to attain the upper hand.

“That hurt.” He tossed the gun into a far-off corner of the room.

Out of reach.

She countered his approach, wading through knee-high waters and nearly tripping over Dean’s body. He’d rolled face down into the depths—unconscious—and she latched on to him, pulling him against her chest.

“But it’s nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you. All those other victims, they got out of this life easy.” Ford tossed one of the chairs that’d floated into his path to the side.Intimidating and terrifying and full of a brutality she hadn’t seen until it’d been too late. The man was full of surprises. “You were right before. I didn’t want them to suffer. They were nothing more than a means to an end, but I’m going to enjoy what I do to you.”

Dean’s dead weight—bad choice of words—dragged at her already tired body. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve heard the evil villain monologue. Believe me when I say, yours isn’t anything special.”

She wasn’t sure why she was trying to piss him off other than it felt like the right thing to do in the moment. If nothing else, she would go down running her mouth until the bitter end. But Dean didn’t need to suffer for that.

“Now you’re just trying to hurt my feelings.” Ford launched at her.

She had to drop Dean’s body to dodge the collision. In an instant, Ford had closed the distance between them. He jerked her into his chest with the help of the stupid drawstrings on her hoodie, and she had no choice but to go. Those things really were choking hazards, but not the way she’d always been told. Leigh got the sense he was holding himself back. Trying to draw this out as long as possible.

Playing with her.

She wasn’t going to last much longer. The drug he’d shot her with was already starting to fade, taking her confidence and ego with it. But she wasn’t going to ask for another dose either. Her face pulsed in rhythm with her erratic heartbeat. He’d broken her nose. The least she could do was repay the favor. Leigh fisted the hair at the back of Ford’s head and slammed her forehead into his nose. “There, now we match.”

She wouldn’t let him get the upper hand again. Shoving his head beneath the surface of the water, Leigh tried to use her weight to pin him. But Ford was so much bigger. He tossed herwithout any effort at all. He rammed his knuckles into her face. She fell back, nearly going under. Before she had a chance to get her bearings, the marshal swung one of the chairs down on her.

The leg connected with the side of her head. The seat with her ribs. Air crushed from her chest, and she sank for a second time. Hands broke into her clouding vision and wrapped around her neck. Bubbles brushed against her skin as they escaped her clothing. She latched on to Ford’s wrists to break his hold.

She’d been here before. Except there were no mason jars full of moldy sludge down here. No way for her to get to her service weapon. Ford squeezed his thumbs into her throat. Killing her. Pounding against his forearms did nothing. She kicked out, catching him in the knee, but the marshal refused to go down.

This was it.

This was when he finally got what he’d wanted back in that storage room. Her fight or flight wouldn’t get off its ass with the drugs still in her system. There was nothing she could do to survive this. Rushing water sounded in her ears. Or was that the last of the blood in her head?

The edges of her vision darkened with black webs as they had that first time she’d almost drowned. Her shoe grazed the side of his knee. She was fighting a losing battle. Losing the will to thrash. Maybe she’d always known this case would be the death of her. And Ava… Ava would be all alone. Would think Leigh had left her on purpose. Abandoned her like everyone else in her short life had done. Leigh tried to shake her head. To get her body to do something other than give up.

She could barely make out Ford’s features through the surface of the water. But there was one thing her brain latched on to. A thin, white tube bobbing against his upper arm. One of the syringes.

It was her one shot and could blow up in her face, but she didn’t see any other option. Leigh forced her hands to releasehis wrists—to stop fighting—and grabbed for the tube. There was no way to tell what had been loaded inside. Amphetamine or barbiturate. It didn’t matter. The syringe took shape in her hand.

Leigh stabbed the needle into Ford’s ribcage and depressed the plunger.

His hands left her throat.

She shoved her feet against the floor and shot to the surface. Her gasp burned more than the drugs still in her system. The influx of oxygen claimed her in a wave of dizziness, and her knees hit the floor. Water lapped at her face as she reached out to steady herself. Alive. She was alive.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Ford’s growl was the only warning as he closed in again. A predator with an eye on its prey. Except the marshal—she had to stop thinking of him as a marshal—swayed on his feet. He attempted another step forward. Water dripped from his jaw, every drop crystal clear in the light of the emergency lantern. Eyes heavy, Ford struggled with some internal battle. His body versus his intention to kill her. Barbiturate. She’d dosed him with a barbiturate. He wasn’t going to last long, and a crushing sense of relief wedged into her veins.

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