Page 85 of Claiming His Bunny
Before his outrageous request even registers in my mind, Adams yanks on my hair. I scramble up, desperate to escape the blinding pain that feels like he’s about to tear off my entire scalp. Then a fist lands in my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.
Dry heaving and gasping for air, I find myself on my knees, just a few feet away from Ethan. Before I can gather my bearings, something hard smashes into my temple. Stars explode in my vision, the world around me a twisting blur.
I’m on my back on the filthy floor, a heavy weight pinning me down. My struggle is weak, my mind unable to focus over the ringing and whirling. A wave of nausea hits me, and I retch again. What’s happening?
Something is squeezing my throat. I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything.
“Stop it!” That’s Ethan’s voice, weak and trembling. “It’s not her you want, it’s me!”
The pressure on my throat eases ever so slightly, and I suck in a wheezing breath. I try to call Ethan’s name, but all that comes out is a rasp.
“You?” Adams sneers. “I think not, Mr. Bennett. If you could just shut the fuck up and die quietly, that would be great.”
Ethan coughs and groans. “Me. I was the one who put the cameras into that pretentious burrow you call a home. I was the one who made the video. I was the one to publish it. To show it to everyone. It was all me.”
The weight lifts off my chest. “Are you fucking serious?! You?!” Adams stands between me and Ethan, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if uncertain which of us he wants to hurt first.
“Oh, yes,” Ethan says, smirking. “I really enjoyed watching you lose everything: your son, your job, your friends. You’re nothing now. What does that feel like?”
I whimper as Adams’ attention switches to Ethan. What is Ethan doing? Why is he making the already unstable madman even angrier? Then Ethan’s eyes briefly meet mine, and it all clicks into place. He’s drawing Adams’ attention so that I can run.
My head is pounding, my vision refusing to focus, rendering me nearly useless. Even in my prime, I would never be a match for Adams. And he has a gun. A gun that’s currently aimed at Ethan.
I could run. I fucking should run. But I’m not going to.
I quickly consider my options, but the ever-spinning world around me doesn’t offer many. Just one, really—the can of mace I so spectacularly failed to use. I really hope there’s more pepper spray inside because if not, I’ll write a terrible product review and post it everywhere. I’ll probably be posting it from my grave, so they better have Wi-Fi there.
My stomach protests as I roll over. My head protests. My entire body protests.
I crawl several feet forward, cringing at the filthy floor. It should be the last thing to worry about, but the way my skin crawls is proving more difficult to ignore than my concussed brain or churning stomach.
I reach forward, my fingers touching the metal of the can. I have it!
A hand yanks on my ankle. “Just where do you think you’re going, bitch?” Adams spits out. “Did you think you could run away from me?”
“N-no,” I whimper, hiding the can in my hand. He hasn’t noticed it. He thought I was just trying to crawl away. I still have a chance.
“Oh, yes, you did. It doesn’t matter, though. You can never escape me!”
A pool of blood of alarming size surrounds Ethan, his hand dark red as he raises it. “Me,” he rasps. “You want me. Not her.”
Adams cackles. “How noble. Worry not, asshole. You’ll bleed out soon enough. In the meantime, I’ll have some fun with this meddling bitch. You might have posted the video, but she talked back to me. She dared to challenge me in my own hospital! ME!” He turns back to me, nearly frothing at the mouth. “Do you even know who I am? I own this fucking town! I can do whatever the fuck I want, and you just shut your fucking mouth and take it!”
Vertigo nearly overcomes me as I shake my head. “You don’t own shit. You’re just a fucking bully.”
Pain flares in my side when he kicks me. Yeah, that one’s on me. Should have kept my mouth shut.
Ethan’s voice is quiet, but there’s an icy edge to it as he whispers, “I’ll kill you, you know that?”
Adams chuckles. “I’m sure you’d love to, but you won’t. You’re nothing but a small-town playboy pretending to be a detective to score with chicks.”
“I’ve killed one hundred and seven people.” Ethan’s smile is haunting on his pale face, like a mask of death. “And you’ll be one hundred and eighth.”
Ethan’s quiet admission makes Adams hesitate. He senses the truth in Ethan’s words, but his bloodshot eyes stay fixed on me.
I shift the can of mace in my hand and flip the safety to the side. I just need Adams to come a little closer so I can be sure I’ll hit him fair and square, and then—I actually have no idea what to do next. I could run, but I can’t leave Ethan behind. I could—
My thoughts scatter when Adams aims his gun at me. I freeze, not even daring to breathe, certain that if I even flinch, he’ll pull the trigger. I could still try to use the pepper spray, but that won’t stop a bullet.
