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His back straightened, and I guess survival instincts really did make you braver than you would normally be. “So, what? The plan is to kill me, too? You think killing two Order members is a good idea?”
“I didn’t kill August. I defended myself,” I corrected. “It’s all there on the police report.”
“You’re fucking with something that is way bigger than you, little girl,” he sneered, the reality of his situation finally pushing his emotions forward.
“You think so?” I taunted. “Well…what do you want to do about that, Cooper?”
The fool rushed me, but I was quicker than he was. Ducking, I aimed my booted foot straight for his kneecap, the sounds of his joints dislocating echoing along with his screams of anguish. Ideally, I could stomp him out, but I didn’t want to get close enough for any DNA transference. There was a good chance that he might already have a strand of my hair or some crazy shit like that on his person, but I wasn’t letting him leave alive.
He had his chance.
“You fucking bitch!” he wailed. “You fucking bitch!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I muttered as I looked around for a way to…end this.
Pain and helplessness must have made him angry enough not to care, because his next words were, “You might kill me, but your piece of shit brother will still be dead.”
Unleashed rage was a motherfucker, and unfortunately for Donovan, I had a lot of it. Walking over, I kicked his head in, rendering him unconscious. One more word about my brother, and I was liable to fuck this up.
I’ve already touched him twice too many times, so I had to figure something out, and soon. Glancing around, there was nothing but foliage, so suffocation came to mind. So, after pulling my hair back as tightly as I could, I went to the back of my car, grabbed a utility towel from the back compartment, then went to grabbing a bunch of leaves, dirt, and debris that littered the dirt path. It wasn’t pretty or the way I’d had planned to do it, but I’d deal with that later.
Placing my knee on his neck, I took a deep breath, then started shoving the earth down inside his mouth and down his throat. By the time his body decided to fight back, regaining consciousness, it was too late. The moisture from his saliva had the leaves stuck to his throat, the clumps of dirt turning to thick mud. There was also the rest of whatever was in the pile that I’d gathered.
It took longer than it was depicted in the movies, but once he was dead, I went to work on everything else. I shut down everything that I was feeling and concentrated on not getting caught. My brain went into analytical mode, and an hour later, I was back on the street, my car facing north again, a nail driven into my rear left tire.
After waiting about twenty minutes, someone finally pulled over to ask me if I needed any help. See, these days, everyone assumed that you had a cellphone, so why stop?
Thank God for Mr. Robert Muldoon and his sense of chivalry.
