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I’m not going to some casino on a whim or getting swept off my feet by some not-quite-knight in beat-up armor.
I’m getting my daughter and me the hell out of Vegas, just like I’d wanted to from the start.
And you know what?
This feelsfucking incredible.
I laugh. I laugh and I laugh, and then I laugh some more. That dumbass Martin won’t know what to think when he sees that we’re gone. He probably won’t even figure out I found his toolbox until it’s way too late and we’re in Canada or Barbados or on the freaking moon.
We’re doing this, baby girl. Mama’s got you.
Mama’s also going nineteen over the speed limit, which I don’t notice until the red, white, and blue lights start flashing behind me.
Shit.
Something in my gut tells me to keep going, don’t pull over.
But that “something” won’t have to deal with the consequences of evading a police officer, especially as the daughter of one. So I do what any normal, not-running-from-her-ex person would do and pull to the side of the road.
Princess feels as unsettled as I do. She whines and shifts in her seat, eager to break free from the gentle restraint of the seatbelt.
The officer steps out of the car.
And my heart plummets.
Fuck.
No. No, no, no…
Martin adjusts his sunglasses and saunters up over to my driver’s side window that I already rolled down before I saw who it was. “Well, well, well,” he drawls. “Looks like I caught myself a sexy little speed demon. What’s the rush, baby?”
Breathe. Fucking breathe.
“Heard a good song on the radio,” I lie through my teeth. “Didn’t notice I was tapping my foot.”
“Oh, yeah?” He laughs and leans on the door frame. “Which one?”
I can’t think of anything. My panicked mind is utterly blank. “Er, I don’t know. It was just good.”
Martin nods and drums his fingers on the top of the car. “I figured you’d be home by now. I’m honestly surprised to see you out and about.”
Please… please don’t see the bags in the back.“We’re out of a few things back home. I needed to run and grab groceries.” I’m praying for this to work. “I was thinking about making steak for dinner.”
“That sounds delicious, baby.” He grins at me and leans in through the window for a kiss. “You know you’re my favorite chef.”
I laugh nervously. Anything to get him to back out and leave me alone.
Martin reaches in… and yanks the keys from the steering wheel.
He grabs the back of my head.
Then slams me face-first into the wheel.
My world is ringing. And spinning. And filled with vicious barking and snarling that does seem to keep Martin at bay.
There’s blood all over the steering wheel. All over me.
“You think you’re so fucking clever, huh? Huh?!”
