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Bang!
“Oh fuck,” I cry, tears streaming down my face as another bullet fractures the windshield. “Connor. Connor, what do we do?”
“We get the fuck out of here.” He slams his foot on the pedal, but nothing happens. I hear the whirl of tires, yet we’re not moving. “Shit. Shit! Ivy, quick. The glove box, get the—”
I fumble with the handle, trying to do what he’s asking me, but I can’t seem to control my limbs. The glove box pops open. I dart my eyes back to Connor, understanding what he wants before reaching for the shiny object.
The driver’s-side door is wrenched open. In slow motion, I see Connor being gripped by the neck and flung from the car. I scream, then choke as someone grabs me. I’m not thrown from the SUV but grabbed around the waist. My seat belt is sliced with a long knife that has me freezing when I first see it then flailing to avoid it as my attacker tugs me down. The object in my hand falls to the ground. Kicking and screaming, I fight my captor. I need to get to Connor.
Sheer luck has me kicking the asshole holding me in a delicate area. He drops me, and I scramble through the dirt, tripping on my dress. My leg flies up, slipping on the material, and I kick my advancing captor in the head. He falls back and doesn’t get up.
I think I’ve killed him. But I can’t worry about that. I need to get to Connor.
I can hear grunts and the sounds of slapping flesh. Using the SUV to keep me steady, I drag my way to the other end and watch in horror as Connor defends himself against two men. They’re no match for him. Connor is a trained former Special Ops; no amateur can take him down.
But a gun might.
Out of the trees I see someone else appear. I can’t make them out but there’s no mistaking the gun in their hand—directed right at Connor. He doesn’t see them, too focused on knocking out the other assailants. One falls, not getting up. Then the other joins.
Heaving, Connor stares them down, waiting for one of the men to move. When they don’t, he turns to me. Brow heavy with rage and blood dripping down his chest, he takes one staggering step toward me before I scream.
“Down!”
I won’t know until later if Connor understood what I was warning him about or if his hurt leg gave out from under him. In the moment it doesn’t matter. I watch him fall to the ground as a bang cracks through the air.
“You know, Ivy, for a wallflower, you sure are a pain in the ass.”
I squint, and the shadow of the shooter becomes more recognizable. I shouldn’t be surprised to see my stepmother making her way toward me, a sick smile on her face as she moves the gun off Connor to me.
The last four months have been leading to this. I should have known my happily ever after would be fleeting. Rina wasn’t going to stop until she got everything she wanted.
And she wanted me dead.
“Jesus, Rina. What the fuck?”
“Surprise! I hear congratulations are in order.” She makes an exaggerated pout. “And it looks like I wasn’t invited.” She moves fully into the light, leaving the shadow of the trees behind. With her come two other men, both with guns drawn.
I don’t blink, don’t move. There is a glazed look in Rina’s eyes that I’ve never seen before. It sends fear down my spine.
“Doesn’t matter,” she continues as if we’re in the middle of a conversation. “Doesn’t look like it’s going to last long.” She throws her head back and laughs, the gun shaking in her hand with each haunting cackle. “Marriage isn’t all it’s cracked up to be anyway, Ivy. It’s always about them, them, them.”
I don’t dare take my eyes off Rina, but I can see Connor moving on the ground. My legs are covered by the car, and I try not to look conspicuous as I feel around for the gun that fell from the glove box. The toe of my shoe hits something hard.
Rina looks to the side, instructing the two men do to something I can’t hear. I use this opportunity to kick the gun over to Connor. He spies the gun and covers it with his body. I’m not sure what he’s doing but I hope to God whatever he’s planning he does it fast. Rina is on the brink of completely losing it—and I’m her main target.
“Rina,” I begin, holding her attention so she would forget about Connor. “I don’t—”
“I never get what I want!” she screams, gun jerking in her hands. “All your father had to do was share his wealth. Spoil me with gifts and attention. Diamonds and exotic trips. I married him after all, I deserved it. But the bastard didn’t do any of that.”
“Rina.”
“And then I find out—after I make him disappear—I don’t even get the money when he dies. It all goes to you!”
“Rina,” I try again, holding up my hands, trying to reason with her, “I didn’t know. I swear I—”
“I don’t give a fuck about that anymore,” she barks out. Surprised by her own outburst, she gives her head a little shake and runs her free hand across her cheek. “I didn’t like having to outsource help. Once again spending money onyou. But they have been very helpful.” The men beside her don’t make any indication that they hear her.
The man on her left walks to Connor. In one swift motion that I didn’t see coming, he hits Connor over her head with the butt of his gun. I scream as Connor slumps to the ground.
