Page 75 of Read With Your Heart

“He’s waiting for you, isn’t he?” he growls into my ear, the scent of whiskey strong in the stream of air he exhales. My legs continue to kick. I should tell him the truth about meeting Emily, but I refuse to explain myself to him. I’m not defending my actions anymore.

“Put. Me. Down!” I yell. I throw back my head to knock him in the face, but he moves, tilting his head so we don’t connect. His body shifts to accommodate my squirming. We near his truck, and I swing my feet forward, pressing them into the side of his cab. With my soles on the vehicle, I hope to leverage myself, pushing back at him so he loosens me.

No such luck.

“Scratch my truck, bitch, and you’ll pay for that in more ways than one.” My feet tap dance on the metal as my arms still press down against the vise-like grip of forearms around my midsection.

“Your threats mean nothing to me, Trent. You mean nothing to me.”

“You don’t mean that,” he snarls in my ear, struggling with me as he works to open the truck door at the same time my feet kick at the side of it.

“I mean every word!” I scream. I can’t believe no one saw him grab me, but it’s mid-November, and it’s pitch black in the early evening. The lot is mostly empty for a weeknight, and I parked on the wrong side of the building.

I scream again for help, but at the same time, my throat clogs, panic taking over, and the sound comes out as no more than a squeak. It’s like my vocal cords are paralyzed while the rest of me refuses to be still.

Trent shifts his body, continuing to angle for the door handle and toss me around like a rag doll. He swings the driver’s side door open and moves left. I’m positioned to face the open cab and my arms go up and out, clutching at the opening. Then I see the shotgun.

“You get away from me, and I’ll shoot you in the back like a prized buck.”

I have no doubt about his aim. He’s a skilled marksman, and while he doesn’t hunt humans, he isn’t lying. If he targets me, he’ll hit a bull’s-eye. My arms fall, defeat loosening my body. He tosses me forward, and I catch myself on the seat by the steering wheel. Only I kick backward, hoping to connect with his chest and throw him off guard. I’ve hit him somewhere, but it’s not enough to force him back and he catches my ankle, twists it, and I flip to my back and land over the rifle on the seat.

“You watch yourself, missy,” he threatens with a gleam in his dazed eye. I know that look. It’s the one he has when he wants to have sex with me, and I need to shut myself off. I shiver while my leg remains caught in his hand. He stands outside the open door, and I scoot closer to him, so my knee bends.

If I can just get closer…

I kick out with my other foot, aiming for his face. Only the outside of my calf hits the steering wheel instead. Like a yo-yo, I wiggle my captured leg back and forth, hoping to loosen his grasp.

“Stop squirming,” he grunts.

“Take your hands off me!” I shout at him. I can’t get the leverage I need, and Trent tucks his head, ready to climb into the cab over me. I’m shoved backward by his hold on my captured ankles and my back scrapes against the length of the gun under me.

I scream again as if it will help, suddenly finding my outside voice. Instantly, I’m dragged forward as Trent falls backward. He’s tugging me as something pulls at him, and my hands catch on the steering wheel, hoping to prevent myself from falling out the open door. I hear the sickening crack of bone and my ankle falls free of Trent’s grasp. Still clutching at the wheel, my legs kick wildly, blindly seeking Trent’s body as I dangle out the door.

I hear another sharp crack and a choking sound. Using the steering wheel, I pull myself upward and twist from the awkward angle.

I can’t believe my eyes. Leon is pummeling Trent.

Releasing the wheel, I slip out of the cab, my legs hardly able to hold me when my feet touch gravel. I slide along the side of the truck, the metal cold through my wool jacket and I watch in new horror.

“Leon,” my voice squeaks no louder than my first attempted scream. His arms move in a practiced manner. His fists connect with Trent’s face, hammering at him. Trent holds Leon’s coat while Leon has a hold of Trent’s throat. He gurgles under Leon’s grasp.

“Leon.” My voice loudens, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. He’s lost in his beating, and my shaking arm extends to reach his shoulder.

“Leon,” I snap, still no louder than a crack. “Leon, please.” I swallow. “Let him go.”

Sirens sound in the distance, and I don’t know if they are coming for me or another emergency somewhere, someplace else.

“She’s always going to choose me.” Trent struggles to speak, and it’s the wrong thing to say as Leon tightens his hold. Trent’s gurgling shifts to a strangled choking sound.

“Leon,” I cry out. My hand makes contact with his shoulder, and he turns his head to me. His silver eyes are wild. His nostrils flare with warm air steaming from them. He looks at me, but he doesn’t focus.

A sheriff’s car with circling red and blue lights and a siren blaring pulls into the lot.

Everything happens so fast.

Doors open.

Voices shout.