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My feet carry me faster as I fly down the hallway. I grab the door, hurl it open, and flip the light on.
I pause for a single breath when I see more than a dozen cars in the expansive garage. I’m clueless when it comes to cars. I don’t know how expensive they all are or how fast they go. I run to the nearest one and fling the door open, begging for the keys to be inside.
Please, please, p
lease.
The car doesn’t have a spot to slide the key in. Instead, it has a button you use to start the car. I have no clue where to search to see if there is a key somewhere in the car or not.
I push the button and exhale deeply when the engine roars to life.
I press the clicker at the roof the car, and the garage door opens.
I step on the gas and speed out of the garage, clipping the side mirror of a black car parked near the exit.
I remember the long driveway that leads off the property and I know I’m not anywhere near safety yet, but getting the car makes me feel unstoppable. There is nothing Armas can do at this point to stop me.
The driveway curves and I see Armas. He’s standing in the middle of the driveway, his red sports car sits behind him parked sideways across the gravel. Hundred-year-old oak trees line both sides of the road.
He’s blocking my exit. There is no way out, except to run him over.
I smirk.
I don’t have a problem killing him if it means my freedom. I’ll hit him with my car first. Then I’ll take his car if that is what I need to do to get out of here.
I step firmly on the gas making my intentions known. Armas can move or get killed.
He turns to his car, opens the back door, and grabs a woman by the arm, jerking her out. He holds her by the arm next to him in front of his car.
I squint trying to get a better look at the woman and realizing it’s one of the cooks. She made me breakfast most days. She probably has a family; people that love and depend on her.
Shit.
I keep my foot on the gas, hoping if I play chicken with him long enough he’ll move her out of my path. As my car inches closer, I know in my heart, he won’t. I’ll have to run them over and kill them both if I want a shot at getting free.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. I hit the steering wheel trying to figure out what I should do.
I swerve the car just before I hit them, stomping on the brake. The car doesn’t stop. I was going too fast.
I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see the tree the car is about to crash into.
My body slams forward, the airbag deploys and launches my body backward, and the air is knocked out of me for the second time since Matteo entered my life. I’ve never been in a car accident before, and it makes me never want to ride in a car ever again.
All I feel is pain as the airbag slowly deflates. Pain in my head, my stomach, my leg. I should get out of the car and start running, but I can’t. I can’t move, the pain is intense.
Instead, I have to wait for Armas to come to me. I try to think of what my next plan is and how I can cause the most damage. But at the moment, I’m out of ideas. The self-defense classes I took never covered how to defend yourself against someone when you’ve spent your night drugged and were in a car accident where you couldn’t physically move.
I hear twigs breaking and leaves crunching, his presence looming nearer and nearer.
I close my eyes, pretending I’m anywhere but here. I’m back in my office going over a new case. Or I’m in the courtroom after winning a verdict.
I can’t.
I hear the door pop open, and I’m brought right back to reality.
“Good thing I like my women feisty.”
I gradually turn my head to him, and give him my worst death stare. “Go to hell.”
