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“Just shut up and keep moving.”
They were on a lower floor that was too quiet for comfort. They passed another ballroom and a couple of empty meeting rooms. It was clear he didn’t have a plan. They were heading in one direction when he stopped suddenly and went the other way.
By now, Laz would be looking for her.
She hoped.
Journey had tried enough kidnapping and rape cases to know she was as good as dead if she left the building. When a side door exit appeared out of nowhere, she knew she had to act fast.
“Wait.” She tried to yank her arm free, but he had a death grip on it. “I gotta stop, or I’m going to twist my ankle in these shoes. Then I really won’t be able to walk. At least let me take them off.”
He slowed. When he glanced down at her feet as if he was considering her request, his grip loosened on her upper arm. It was just enough for her to snatch out of his grasp.
Journey hiked up her dress and took off running in the opposite direction. “Help me!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. “Help!”
Tony grabbed the straps of her dress hanging down her back and yanked her backward with so much force that she crashed to the floor. She landed on her tailbone and cried out as pain surged through her hip and leg.
Tears clouded her eyes, and she feared she’d broken her hip.
Tony tried to get her up, but she started swinging. Journey slammed her small beaded purse against his face, his head, and anywhere else she could hit him. “Help!” she screamed again as she scooted around on the floor, ignoring the sound of ripping material.
She didn’t care. She didn’t even care that her breasts might be on display since the straps of the halter had loosened.
“Help me!”
Journey tried crawling away, but pain shot up her leg.
“Stop it!” Tony growled and jerked her around to face him. He pointed the gun at her forehead, and her heart stuttered. “You either stop fighting me, or I put a bullet through your head right here and now. Is that what you want?”
If he was going to kill her, he would’ve done it already, but Journey wasn’t taking any chances. Panic pounded through her body like an out-of-control freight train roaring down a steep incline. No doubt that he saw fear on her face—especially if his evil smirk was any indication.
“I thought you’d see it my way,” he snarled. “Now get up.”
When she struggled to stand, he yanked her up, and she cried out again in pain. He grabbed hold of the two straps holding up her halter dress and roped them around his hand. Journey placed her hand on her chest, trying to breathe as the dress tightened.
“Hey! What’s going on down there?” someone called from the other end of the hallway, and Tony cursed.
He jabbed the gun into her side with force, as if reminding her that he could shoot her if she opened her mouth.
This was no longer the gentle man she’d once cared about years ago. She didn’t recognize the monster that he had become.
“Move!” he ground out, pushing her toward an open door that led to a stairwell. As she cleared the threshold, Tony jerked her back, and her shoulder connected with the door jamb.
Journey screeched, then collided to the floor with athunk, and when Tony suddenly released her, she scrambled away. It wasn’t until she glanced over her shoulder that she understood why he had let her go.
Laz.
Her husband slammed Tony against a wall, knocking the gun from the man’s hand, then punched him in the face. They both tumbled to the floor, and Journey started toward them. But Laz pulled out his own gun.
“No! Laz, baby, please don’t. Please don’t do this!”
Her mind automatically thought in legal terms. If he killed Tony, she could get Laz off with Georgia’sStand Your GroundLaw. Or maybe self-defense or even defense of another. Her mind whirled, going a hundred miles an hour as she silently freaked out inside.
“Laz….”
Kenton was by her side, pulling her back. He glanced down at her and frowned, then quickly slipped out of his tuxedo jacket to wrap it around her. The state of her dress was the least of Journey’s worries. They had to do something.
Journey looked at Laz again, noticing blood on the back of his white dress shirt where the bullet had exited from days ago. Some or all of his stitches must’ve come loose, and it didn’t look like he had a bandage over the wound.
