Okay, she’d saved me from a serious case of brick-rash—not to mention a possible skull fracture—but now she was back on his radar. And I still couldn’t get to the knife.
Time for plan B. Or was this C?
Fuck it.
“Hey. I’ve got money,” I said. “Let us go, and it’s yours.”
“Yeah? How much?”
“Some.”
Lie. At the moment, I was loaded. Most of the $3,000 I’d already collected tonight was in the van, wrapped in a McDonald’s bag and shoved under the seat. I also had $200 in a baggie inside my boot and another $800 in my bra, because I believed in diversifying my assets.
My commission depended on me getting the cash and van back to the docks without incident. I couldn’t afford incidents. Rent was due tomorrow, and Sophie had already covered me last month.
But I couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk him hurting the kid.
“It’s in my boot,” I said. “Left one.”
“We’ll see about that.” He yanked me away from the wall and shoved me to the ground, the impact shredding the skin on my palms.
I was flat on my stomach, wrists pinned behind me by one of his meaty hands. With the other, he bent my leg back and yanked off my boot.
Bastard.
“I hope you feel good about your life choices,” I grumbled.
Another wheezing laugh rattled his chest. “Choice ain’t got nothin’ to do with it.”
Whatever. I waited until he saw the baggie with the cash, let him get distracted and stupid over his small victory.
The instant he released my wrists and went for the money, I pushed up on all fours and slammed my other boot heel straight into his teeth.
The crunch of bone was pure music, just like the dropped-pebble sound of his front teeth hitting cement as he spit them from his mouth.
His howl of agony could’ve called the wolves.
I had just enough time to flip over and scamper to my feet before he rose up and charged, pile-driving me backward into the wall. The wind rushed out of my lungs, but I had to keep fighting. Had to get him to back off and leave us.
I clawed at his face and shoved a knee into his groin, but damn it—not enough leverage. His hands clamped around my throat, rage and fire in his eyes, blood pouring from his nose and mouth.
He cocked back an arm, but just before his fist connected, I went limp, dropping to the ground like a pile of rags.
The momentum of his swing threw him off balance, and I quickly ducked beneath his arms and darted behind him, crouching down and reaching for the sweet, solid handle of my knife.
“You can’t win,” he taunted as he turned to face me. “I’m bigger, stronger, and I ain’t got no qualms about hurting little cunts like you.”
I stood up straight, blade flashing in the moonlight.
“Whoa. Whoa!” He raised his hands in surrender, slowly backing off. “Hand over the knife, sweetheart.”
“Not happening.”
“You’re gonna hurt yourself, waving around a big weapon like that.”
“Also not happening.”
“Look. You need to calm the fuck down before—” A coughing fit cut him short, and he leaned against the wall, one hand on his chest as he gasped for air.
