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Chapter Thirty-two
If Sloan hadn’t driven the bat into the back of Roger’s knee just then, his shot might not have missed her, striking Sara instead. She’d never know. Nor did she have time to wonder.
By now, Joey had pulled his gun too, but with his pants at half-mast, his movements were hindered. Alia quickly kicked the weapon from his hand and then pistol-whipped him and knocked him down.
Sara, sobbing in pain from the unexpected flesh wound on her arm, nonetheless scrambled to get his gun. Then she slithered close to the asshole and took aim.
From the corner of her eye, Alai saw Sara’s intent and turned so she could stop the girl. “Hey, kiddo, don’t do it. Joey’s no threat to you now.”
“Maybe not now, but he will be again. Could be he’ll pull this kind of stuff with some other poor chump who can’t get her shit straight.”
“It’s up to the law to decide that, Sara. Not you.”
Joey followed the conversation, his hand trying to stem the blood on his cheek while his widened eyes, the whites gleaming, lit on Alia. He nodded vehemently in obvious agreement with her.
Screaming, saliva emitting in white bubbles of froth from her bruised lips, Sara continued. “Where was the fucking law when my own father was raping me? I was seven. And then my brother decided he needed to get some. So where were the cops then, huh?”
A thick cloud of social conscience hit Alia, who crouched down, conflicted but pissed. “Fine, shoot the bastard. They’ll arrest you but maybe a jury will be sympathetic. You might only get justifiable murder because of the special circumstances. Hell, girl. You’d be out of the pen in your thirties. Is that what you want – to ruin the best years of your life?”
Sara laughed, the evil in her spirit ringing clearly. “It’s worth it,” she said. Then she aimed the gun and pulled the trigger.
Good Lord!No way had Alia seen that coming.
