Page 48 of The Writer
My body goes limp, and I ‘play dead’ once again.
“When we said you could scream, it wasn’t an open invitation,” the man bites out in a gruff tone. He paces towards Ivy, barely giving me a glance.
“How long are you going to keep me here? And I need to use the bathroom. Clearly, you’re not going to hurt me, or you would have done it by now.” Ivy keeps talking, and it’s clear this is going to be my opening. I crouch, placing my feet as quietly as I can before I’m in striking distance.
“Shut up, bitch.” He raises his hand, as if going to smack her again, but I catch his wrist before he can, making him stumble as his weight and balance are off.
“What the-” He doesn’t finish.
With my other hand, I lunge towards him with the shard of glass, but he backs away, and I miss, catching his shirt and nothing more. He moves his arm, as if grabbing for the gun, so I shoulder barge him, needing to disable him quickly.
We both hit the deck, and my shoulder screams with lightning pain, but I push it aside. I scramble and see the man facing me, holding the gun. Pushing up with my legs, I shove his arms high over his head until I've overpowered him, and I’m straddling his chest and reaching for the gun.
He uses my weight against me and kicks me forward. I roll, but he keeps the gun in hand and twists free.
“Blake!” Ivy’s scream distracts me, and I turn to see the man staggering to his feet. I jump up and tackle his arm again, twisting to elbow him in the ribs. His free arm lands a couple of punches to the side of my head as we fight for control over the weapon. My vision goes hazy, and nausea rushes through me, but I block it out. We stumble back against the wall of the building, my weight pinning him in position, but the gun is still out of reach.
With the surge of energy, my heart pounds in my chest, and my head grows more clouded and muddled. My arms shake as I fight to keep the gun pointed away from us.
Movement catches my eye, and I see Ivy approach. It distracts the assailant, who turns his attention to her and gives me the opening to turn his arms, and I twist in his grip again.
“Let … Go!” he grits. But I refuse, twisting the gun in his grip. The crack of a bullet is unmistakable, and the guy’s body goes limp. I take the gun freely from him as he slumps to the floor, a dark pool spreading over his stomach. He clutches at his gut, but it won’t do any good. He’ll bleed out in a matter of minutes.
Ivy races towards me, her eyes glistening, but, as usual, she’s strong enough to keep her cool.
“How many were there?” I ask, swinging my gaze to the door.
“At least two. And there’s no way they didn’t hear that gun.”
“Stay behind me,” I grate, pushing her into my back.
We make our way to the edge of the doorway, and sure enough, another man is heading our way. I’m done with this, though. I pull back, hiding us from his approach. I need him in the building. The other man makes a few gurgling noises, which hopefully will pull this guy’s attention, so I flatten my body against the wall and wait. He walks right in, surveys the scene, and goes to his guy bleeding out.
“Oh man, where are they?” he says, as he stands and spins towards us. I raise the gun and fire two rounds at his centre mass before he moves a step.
Ivy’s grip on my free arm lands hard, as the shots find their target, and we both watch as he drops to the ground next to his partner in crime.
“Blake?”
“It’s fine.” I squeeze her to me and keep hold of the gun. “Come on. We still need to get out of here.”
“Are they dead?” she asks, as I make my way over to him.
I check for a pulse on both guys—nothing—and then pat the second one down for a weapon. One gets shoved in my waistband, the other still secure in my grip. “Come on. We still need to find a way out of here. Can you walk?”
“It’s not bad. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Your head. It’s still bleeding, and you’re holding your arm in a funny position.” The shoulder pain rushes back to mind, along with the banging headache.
“Later. First, we need to assess and confirm no further bad guys. Then we find a phone and call for backup.”
“Backup?”
“Police. Ambulance.”
“Really?”
