Page 93 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
She scoffs quietly.
Finally, as we turn onto that road and climb the steep incline, Leila mumbles, “I don’t know how much longer of this life I can take.”
“Any time you want out, you let me know.” I glance at her. “I’ll go to a deserted island with you. I’ll go anywhere.”
She smiles at me with sad eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you t—” Another car slams into us, rocking us to the side.
* * *
My body is a bag of pain as I hang upside down in the truck, the seatbelt cutting into my thighs.
Leila!I look her way and my heart leaps into my throat. Her body is half outside the broken passenger window, motionless on the ground.
“Leila!” I roar, adrenaline pumping into my system. She had taken her seatbelt off to search for food. She never put it back on. Fuck me. “Babe!”
I hate the sound of raw panic in my voice. I don’t want to feel fear. Don’t want to acknowledge what might be happening. But she doesn’t move.She doesn’t move!What if the half of her outside the cabin, the half I can’t see is—I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. Then I unlatch the belt securing me to the seat. I fall and bump my head. Heat sears my chest and I hiss. Weird reaction to hitting my head.
I try to wiggle myself free, but I’m half-folded and cramped in the crushed cabin space. My body is too big to maneuver out of the busted driver’s window.
Leila’s moan is the sweetest sound I know.
“Babe,” I call.
She tries to push up but hits her spine on the window frame and flops down. “What the fuck?”
“We had an accident.” I bend my knee, but I’m stuck. “Another car hit us.”
“Zeke?” She gasps and cranes her neck to peer into the cabin at me. “Are you hurt?”
I take a moment to process the aches and pains in my body. It’s not so bad. The worst is the burning at my chest. “Unless I’m having one of those shock moments where I don’t feel my amputated leg or something, I think I’m good. You?”
She wiggles her body, testing it. “I think I’m good too.”
I try again to twist my body to get out but hit the other side of my head on the dashboard. Fire flares at my chest again.Fuck. I slap the burning spot.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“It burns there every time I hit myself.”
I reach in and pull out the sewn, lumpy gauze square Paula shoved beneath my shirt. “I think this saved our lives.”
Leila tugs hers out. “Mine is hot too. But I thought it was protection from bullets.”
“I guess it protected us from high impact.” I twist to meet her eyes. “You know what this means?”
“They’ll be okay.”
Relief courses through me. Thank fuck for that. Outside the truck, something sizzles behind Leila. The back of my neck prickles and my gaze snaps to the road behind her—Biker boots.
“Hello, china doll.”
Leila looks outside. But she’s too late. She’s dragged from the cabin before my eyes, and I can do nothing about it. I’m stuck.
Thirty-Five
Leila
