When he slams the door in my face, oblivious to the fact I’m seconds from removing his insides via his bellybutton, Rocco locks his eyes with mine in the rearview mirror. “We need him.”
“We don’t fucking need him.” I want to add that I don’t need anyone, but since Rocco will see straight through that lie, I keep my mouth shut.
Just like my pain is my motivation, so is my wish not to be alone. It takes courage to wage a battle by yourself, but it is even more courageous to admit you need help.
After climbing over the partition separating Rocco and me, I switch on the state-of-the-art GPS system. “Send through Rico’s last known location to The Tank’s mainframe.” As Smith hums out an acknowledging murmur, I swing my eyes to Rocco. “It’s better to fight for something than live for nothing, right?”
Rocco’s smirk reveals he understands where I’m going with this, much less what he says next, “They say you should never interrupt your enemy when he’s making a mistake. They don’t say anything about helping them make it.”
13
Roxanne
“This will only take a couple of minutes, then you can rest up.”
The drugs the dark-haired goon jabbed into my thigh must be top-shelf because he almost sounded sincere while assuring me I’ll only be at his mercy for a few more minutes. Even the way he folds up the nightie the women upstairs lent me is gentle. He takes his time like he isn’t in the process of stripping me of the only thing I’ve felt a part of wholeheartedly.
My ranch was my grandparents, my bed was bought on credit, even the shoes I was wearing earlier today weren’t mine. They were from Alice’s vast collection of pretty things. My child is the only thing I have of any value, and it’s about to be taken away from me.
I don’t know where my strength comes from when I gather it to shove the man away from me, but it’s surprisingly robust. My push sends him crashing into the stainless-steel trolley he dragged closer to my bedside while waiting for me to succumb to his mind-numbing concoction. It reveals that only the lower half of my body is paralyzed. My arms, although heavy, can still protect my child and me.
“Now look what you’ve gone and done.” His earlier niceties are now a thing of the past. He’s back to the maniac who held me captive for hours on end without bathroom privileges.
While gabbling out about this being the reason he isn’t nice, he bends down to gather up the instruments my push knocked to the floor. Forgetting my legs are numb, I use his distraction to my advantage. I fall to the floor with a clatter, bruising both my backside and my ego.
“Seriously?” the man chokes out, laughing. “Do you truly think you can crawl to safety? We’re in the middle of nowhere, it will be below freezing as soon as the sun disappears, and you have nowhere to hide. You won’t last five minutes out there.”
When he folds his thick arms in front of his chest, it seems as if he wants to test his theory. He doesn’t shadow my snail-like creep across the filthy floor. He watches my retreat with a smirk etched on his face and his brow arched, only jumping into action when I add a frantic scream into the mix.
“Help me! Please! I’m down here!” I bang and bang and bang my fists against the tiled floor when he hooks his arm around my waist and hoists me back, then I smack them into his chest. “He’s going to kill my baby! Please help me!”
I fight him with everything I have—teeth, nails, and the brutal pounds of my fists. I whack into him on repeat, my fight only lessening when the violent crack of a skull being punished sounds through my ears.
I brace, anticipating impact.
The pain never comes because the man didn’t strike me.
He was hit.
“Quickly.”
A flurry of red and white circles me when my savior hoists me off the bed. With the drugs in my system finally displaying their full effect, my legs aren’t the only things out of action. My head is as heavy as my limbs. I can barely see through the curtain of red in front of my eyes, and I’m not going to mention the slur of my words.
“I can’t…” I stop, swallow, then try again. “I can’t move my legs.”
“It’s okay, lean on me, we only have a few steps to take,” whispers a soft female voice full of sorrow and distress.
With all my weight on her shoulders, she moves us through the residence still plunged into darkness even with it being late in the afternoon. She weaves us through narrow corridors like she intimately knows the floorplan, and within seconds, I’m once again at the bottom of the stairs.
“Help me, please,” my rescuer begs to the shadows my cloudy head is confusing as demons dancing in the dark. They prance above my head, all impish and fiend-like. I’m so convinced they’re Satan’s urchins come to collect me for my transgressions when they finally relent to my savior’s pleas, I pull back, undogged on my wish to live.
“No!” I scream at them as I did the man, certain they’re destined to hurt me.
“It’s okay. They will help you,” assures the lady still glued to my side. “I promise.”
When she strays her eyes to mine, assuring I can see the pledge in them, I’m certain my life is coming to an end.
My savior isn’t an angel sent from above to protect me.
