Page 805 of Filthy Elites

“I’m certain of it. And he had a mole under his left nostril. I didn’t see the gun, just felt it. He shoved it against my stomach at first, but I didn’t react. Oh, and his exact words to me were, ‘Give me ya purse!’ so his English wasn’t perfect, you know? But I don’t know. I guess I stared at him too hard, too long, trying to memorize his face, and that’s when he moved the gun up to be against my throat.” I swallow hard and rub my arms, trying to ward off a sudden chill that has nothing to do with the warm night air. “He shoved the gun so hard against my throat that I gagged.”

“How dark was it?” Declan asks. “At the time of the attack.”

“As dark as it is now, I guess. Why?”

"All of the other women who were attacked said that he had dark eyes."

“His eyes were green,” I insist. “Yes, it had been dark, but he was right in my face. Like this.”

I invade his space, standing as close as the mugger had.

“You can see my eye color, can’t you?” I ask. “I know what I saw!”

He stares down at me.

“Can you see my eye color?” I ask.

“You aren’t wearing a baseball cap.”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” I throw up my hands. “Do you have one in your car?”

“No.”

“So you don’t believe me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to. You think I’m lying. Why? What would I get from lying? I want the guy nabbed! Locked up! I want him off the streets so that women don’t have to be worried about walking to their cars, only let’s be real. Any time that women are out late at night alone, she’s always going to be worried, nervous, looking over her shoulder. It’s just in our DNA. Kinda sad to think that we’ve been hardwired to be afraid of predators because so many have come after us and our ancestors.”

Declan rubs the back of his neck and then rolls his head from side to side. “Did you see his vehicle?”

“No. When he moved the gun, I caved. I grabbed my wallet out of my pocket and tossed it away from me. I got inside my car and drove off. Honestly, I don’t know how I made it back to campus without getting in a car accident. I canceled my cards, and then I tried to sleep, but…”

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because it seemed surreal, like it happened to someone else, and I just watched it, only that bruise…” My fingers touch the exact spot. I swear it still hurts a little. “I just wanted to forget what happened. Stupid. It kept playing over and over in my mind on a repeating loop, and I couldn’t get it out of my head. Believe me. His eyes were green, and he was strong. His grip on me was so very strong.”

“He grabbed you?”

I nod.

“Where?”

"My right wrist. I don't know if it was a lucky guess or if he was watching me and knew it was my dominant hand or what."

“Like this?” He reaches out and snatches my right wrist.

“Yes, only tighter. Tighter. Yes,” I murmur when he has the right amount of pressure.

“Just like this? With his thumb over the top?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so what’s your guess as to how to break free?”

“Yanking backward didn’t help, and the gun… I couldn’t think of anything else to try.”

“You can think now,” he urges. “What’s the weakest part of the hand?”

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