Page 41 of Selling Innocence

In fact, he was so certain that I believed him. No matter how hopeless things looked, he made me think he could still win.

“You don’t have much of a choice, do you? And if you die here, what good does that do her?” The man shook his hand, drawing attention to his gun. As if we’d forget about that. “I have the upper hand, and a firefight here will certainly leave casualties. In fact, it wouldn’t take much for one accidental bullet to hit your client. I’m sure you would hate to see that, wouldn’t you?” The man walked closer, then touched a finger to my shoulder, sliding it along the front to my heart. “It would be so easy for a stray bullet to go right here. What a needless tragedy that would be.”

Hayden set his jaw in a hard line, and the flicker of his eyes screamed that his brain was working, that he was trying to find another path out of this.

Sometimes you’re all you’ve got on your side.

I recalled Jarrod’s words as I’d recovered from my last gunshot wound. He was so different from the Quad. The Quad taught me to listen, to keep my head down, to let them handle things.

Jarrod had instead told me that I couldn’t merely rely on others, that sometimes I had to do what needed to be done. It was fine to let Hayden handle the heavy lifting, but when things crashed?

Sitting in a sinking car hoping someone would find me wasn’t the best idea. Sometimes, a person had to step up.

The man slid his fingers into my hair, tightening his grasp into a fist.

It took me back to Rune’s lessons. Most women pulled forward, away from the grasp, which did all of nothing for them.

Stay calm. I knew what to do, had practiced it so many times with Rune who could easily put this guy through a window if he wanted.

I reached up and back, wrapping my fingers around the man’s wrist tightly, then twisted my body. I held tight to him, ensuring he couldn’t rotate that hand, twisting it so I was ducked down in front of him, his arm straight, his hand still wrapped in my hair. It pulled at my scalp, but that was the least of my issue.

I twisted more, forcing his arm to bend in a way it normally didn’t. Panic bled into his movements at the threat, which made it easy to yank hard enough for him to release my hair. I didn’t let go of his wrist, instead pulling him forward and moving that arm behind him, pulling it high up on his back.

I didn’t dislocate it, but I doubted the ligaments were too happy right now.

He jerked, the motion causing me to loosen my grip enough for him to escape. Even so, he didn’t move that arm too well. Instead of trying to take him on again—without surprise on my side, I knew I was well outmatched—I dove for the gun still on the ground.

I wrapped my fingers around the pistol, my other hand reaching blindly for the clip. Once I had both, instinct and muscle memory took over. I slammed the clip in and rolled, pointing the gun directly at the man who’d held me.

He huffed, then shook his head. “You don’t have the backbone to shoot me.”

I flipped off the safety, my hands steady.

It made him stop and study me.

He was right, of course. I could handle the gun, but the idea of actually shooting anyone? Of taking a life? I couldn’t come to terms with that, couldn’t even imagine it.

Still, the man stared until he let out a laugh, telling me he’d called me on my bluff. It seemed my lie didn’t last all that long.

He took one step toward me when a figure appeared behind him. The figure moved so smoothly that I couldn’t identify them at first, the way he shifted as if made of nothing but water and shadow. Silver flashed from the sunlight just before a blade sank into the man’s side, between his ribs, angled up on the left side.

He didn’t have time to make a noise before his body slumped down, leaving the man behind him standing there alone.

Tor.

He held the blade in his hand, snapping it shut with an ease and comfort that showed he was well acquainted with the weapon. He slid the closed knife into his pocket, then met my gaze.

That look froze me in place, especially with the blood coating his hand. The same blood that pooled around that man’s body.

Tor pulled his gaze from mine then shifted backward, gone as quietly as he’d arrived. In fact, it was so smooth I might have wondered if I’d seen him at all, like he could have just been some apparition.

Except the blood proved he’d been here.

Someone touched my hand gently, and I jerked backward before realizing it was Hayden. He extracted the gun from my hands—I hadn’t noticed I still held it.

“We need to get out of here before the police arrive,” he said and pulled me to the car. He didn’t wait for me to sit as he did usually, but instead almost shoved me in then rushed to the driver’s side.

It made me look to the side, to see the man Hayden had pinned getting up, unsteady on his feet, rushing to check on his friend. When he didn’t get a response, he looked toward us once, then took off.

---