Page 84 of Claiming His Bunny
“Okay, okay.” He takes forever to pull his keys out of his pocket and drop them into my outstretched hand. “Is something wrong, Ethan? I can come with you if—”
“No,” I reply even as I sprint off to where I see the black hood of his truck. “Call a tow truck for me, will you?”
The tires squeal as I gun the gas and make a sharp U-turn. Fortunately, I looked up the address as I was coming down from my office, so I know where to go even without a GPS. I can’t call Kayla, though.
Can’t check on her, can’t tell her to absolutely not get out of her car. And—I curse out loud as I realize this—I don’t have a gun. Mine is stashed in the glove compartment of my car, but of course, David’s glove compartment only contains the usual clutter. Random receipts, a Snickers bar, a broken pencil, some change. A dart with a broken flight.
I pocket the dart. It doesn’t exactly count as a weapon, but perhaps I can use it as a distraction.
With the gas pedal on the floor, I run a stop sign and swerve my way between two cars, ignoring the furious honking. I don’t have time for fucking stop signs. I need to get Kayla before it’s too late.
Chapter 47
Kayla
I stare at BenjaminAdams, too terrified to move. There’s a million questions on my mind, but I start with the most pressing one. “W-where’s Georgia? What did you do to her?” It doesn’t seem like anyone else is here besides the two of us, but Adams has her phone.
“Pfft,” he snorts, waving his hand dismissively. “I don’t bother myself with white trash. I just paid some lowlife to steal her phone because I knew you’d come running when she called, like the stupid, pathetic bitch you are.”
The relief I felt from the first part of his statement vanishes almost instantly. Panic takes over when Adams pulls a gun out of his hoodie pocket. He’s not pointing it at me, but given the glint of madness in his eyes, that can change any second.
Time. I need to play for time, to stall. Ethan is coming, and he’ll deal with this insane bastard. I just have to survive a few more minutes.
“Can we talk about this, Doctor Adams?” I say in the calmest and the most professional voice I can manage at the moment. It comes out as a desperate whimper. “I understand that you’re angry and—”
“Angry?! I’m fucking livid, you stupid bitch!” he bellows. “You destroyed my entire life!”
Terrified by his outburst, I take an involuntary step back. Adams immediately points the gun at me. “No running, cunt. I’ll shoot your fucking knee caps if you try to run. And if you’re hoping that fuckbuddy of yours is coming to rescue you, think again. He’s probably dead already.”
“Dead?” I gasp. “What did you do to him?”
“Aww,” Adams snickers. “You really like him, don’t you? I should have let him come here and killed him in front of you. I thought you were just using him to hide from me. What’s the deal with you two, anyway? I saw him stalk your house. I fucking saw him carry your unconscious fat ass out of your house in the middle of the night. I thought he kidnapped you and was going to rape and torture you before killing you. But here you are, kissing him like you’re in love or something. What the fuck is wrong with you, you crazy bitch?”
My back hits the wall as I take a stumbling step back when he approaches me. The gun is in my face, the cold metal digging into my cheek.
“Are you into rape? That’s what it is?” Adams snarls, his spittle landing on my face. “Will you enjoy it if I bury my dick in your ugly cunt? Will you moan and beg me for more? Or should I use my gun? Shove it inside you? Pull the trigger? I bet you’d love that. I bet you’re one of those whores who get turned on by pain.”
He grabs my throat, pinning me against the wall. The gun moves against my shoulder. “Let’s test the theory, shall we? I’ll shoot you and then check if you’re wet.”
Whimpering in terror, I try to squirm out of his grip, but he’s too strong. But when I squeeze my fists, I realize—very belatedly—that I’m still holding the can of pepper spray in my hand.
Should I use it? Will it stop him? Or just make him more angry?
Since he’s about to shoot me anyway, I raise my hand and press the plunger on the top of the can. Nothing happens.
What the fuck?
Adams frowns. “The fuck?” he mutters, his thoughts echoing mine.
It takes me a precious second to realize there’s a safety on the fucking can and that I need to slide it to the side. When I do, the plunger finally works and the liquid squirts out of the can in a wide arc over Adams’ head. Before I have a chance to aim the damned thing properly, he twists my wrist so painfully my fingers release the can.
“Fucking bitch!” My head snaps to the side, and sharp pain blooms on my cheek from his slap. He raises his hand again, this time balling it into a fist. I close my eyes, wincing in preparation for the hit, but it never comes.
“KAYLA!” Ethan’s scream pierces the air. A gunshot follows, the noise deafening in the enclosed space.
“NO!” I shriek, shoving at Adams’ chest. He stumbles back, releasing me, and I dart over to Ethan, crying out when I see the dark stain rapidly spreading over his abdomen. “No! Nonono. Ethan!”
He slides down onto his knees, one hand clutching his bleeding stomach. The other caresses my cheek, then pushes me away. “Run, Kayla,” he rasps out.
