Page 25 of Dirty Roxie
Ronan
I grab Roxie’s hand and yank her back into a space in the hedge with me. I don’t care how good she thinks she is, no way can she and I take on five guys alone.
Three of whom emerge from theroomand head toward us. I fire a warning shot at the ground before them. All three return fire wildly in our direction—the hedges offering no protection from the bullets.
Roxie motions for me to follow and takes off running in the direction I’m hoping is the exit. She’s fast in her bare feet, I’ll give her that. Because it can’t be easy to run in that dress, even if there is a slit up the side.
We pass guests running in either direction, pandemonium ensuing as shots escalate in number. No one knows how to get out of the maze when thinking clearly, a task that becomes nearly impossible in a time of panic.
We make it back to the archway leading out to another maze, and I make the mistake of looking back before following Roxie through.
Five seconds.
The longest five seconds of my life.
Time enough to alter its entire outcome.
They say that when you face death, time stands still for a moment. But in reality, I think it’s longer than that. I think entire scenes, not just moments, pass by in slow motion, allowing you to experience them in their entirety.
An out-of-body experience.
Almost like you’re watching someone else on screen. It’s not happening to you, that’s someone else up there who’s been shot. Not with a real bullet, but with blanks. And no actual blood is seeping through the clothing, its gelatin dye packs designed to explode on impact.
Allowing you, the one immersed in said experience, the suspension of belief. Or is it suspension of disbelief? Regardless, it takes a moment for my mind to verify a bullet has pierced my side. Barely halted in its relentless pursuit by the leather of my holster.
Slowing time even further allowing me to feel the burning metal, both forcing the skin open as it enters, rearranging any internal organ or necessary accessory that may be in its way, then ripping the skin apart upon exit.
A straight shot through and through.
The pain is brief, more of a searing sensation like I’ve been branded or burned. Followed by the smell of scorched skin and gunpowder, the combination is nauseating. Warm blood pools at my waistband and seeps through my shirt.
I grab at my side with my right hand. My shooting hand, and slump back against the hedge wall.
“Ronan, my god, were you hit? Jesus. Fuck.” Roxie rapid fires off expletives and questions at me as quickly as she grabs my gun and strikes back at the men, shooting with both hands. Hitting one of them immediately and taking him down. Leaving two to continue to descend upon us. She runs out of ammo with her gun, leaving just mine. And I know for a fact she can’t have more than two rounds left in that one. I try to stand so I can help her take them on.
Before I’m halfway up, one man has his gun at my temple. The other uses his as a striking aid and goes after Roxie. She blocks it with her forearm, and I see her wince. He chucks it at her, catching her on the side of the head, causing her to stumble back a few feet. Then goes in for another blow, this one aimed at her stomach.
I straighten, needing to help her.
“Don’t move.” The man holding his gun on me cocks it. A growl rises from my chest and escapes my mouth as I still and watch helplessly while Roxie defends herself against a man almost twice her size.
She falls to the ground, my gun scatters from where she’d tucked it in her dress. Both go after it, the man diving after Roxie as they scramble in the dirt.
I’m not a religious man, but if I were, I’d be praying. I’ve not felt this helpless since the night my mother died. The man with the pistol at my temple laughs as Roxie’s dress rips further up her side. Baring her to the waist.
Fury rips through me.
I slam my elbow back into his gut and throw my body against his firing arm in one move, the pain almost paralyzing. The man fires at me and misses. I reach for the barrel and try to wrench it from his grasp. He’s stronger than he looks.
Left with no other choice, I lock my grip on his wrist and fall to the side, bringing him with me. The gun falls.
I’ve got one chance. If I fuck this up, we’re both dead. It takes every ounce of energy I have, but I throw my body toward the gun, barely reaching it with my fingertips. I roll to my back, pressing off two shots, hitting him in the chest with one and the middle of the forehead with the other.
Roxie growls and I turn in time to see her sink the heel of her stiletto into the other man’s neck. He falls to the side, clutching at it in vain. She pushes him off her with a grunt. Blood spits out of his neck, fountaining around the heel as faint gurgling sounds spew from his mouth. I watch as his life seeps away into the earth below him until he is no longer.
She rolls toward me, stopping on her side and raising to all fours to pat me down with her hands. “You okay?”
“I’m good. You?”
