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I really am going to die a virgin. At least I had one kiss before I bit the dust. A really good kiss. I try to think about how good it felt instead of the pain that’s making my entire body tremble.
“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay,” Lyla says. “We just – we need to keep pressure on it!”
Lyla grabs her purse, turning it upside down and dumping it out to find her phone, and punches in the three numbers.
She doesn’t say a word before someone jerks her up by her elbow from behind, causing her to drop the phone.
Well, there goes my small chance of surviving this by getting to a hospital fast.
“What the…” it sounds like Lyla exclaims. “Let go of me. Now!” She’s shouting at someone I can’t see around her.
Then a male voice says, “You need to come with me, Lyla,” and I’m suddenly firing on all cylinders again.
Oh, shit. She’s being kidnapped! I know because I said something similar to Jordan. And I can’t let that fucking happen.
“Get your hands off me!” she yells again while trying to fight the guy off.
It hurts like hell to wrench my left arm behind my back to feel around for the gun in my waistband.
“Don’t be difficult, my beautiful Lyla. We belong together,” it sounds like the creep says as I summon the strength to lift my 9 mm that suddenly weighs two hundred pounds. Jeez, RJ might have been onto something with his lightweight Ruger. Although it was only that light because he forgot his clip.
Oh, RJ. I’m gonna miss antagonizing that beautiful son of a bitch.
“No the fuck we don’t, you creep! Help! Someone help us!” Lyla screams at the top of her lungs like she knows I’m a dead man who can’t do anything to stop him.
Well, she’s wrong. I’m not dead yet. I’m just slower than a sloth lifting the gun to take off the safety while listening to them argue.
“That’s only because you don’t know me yet,” the creep says to her over her shouting. “They won’t tell you the truth about me.”
“I’m gonna tell you a truth –” Lyla starts just as I lift the gun to try and line up my shot. That’s when I see him slap his palm over her mouth.
That motherfucker!
I can’t get a good shot at him when Lyla is still in his grip, fighting him as he starts to drag her off, getting further and further away from me, which is really going to make shooting him difficult.
When they disappear between the row of cars, I have no choice but to stagger to my feet to follow.
Each step is slow, off-balance. But finally, I catch up to them.
Lyla is lying limply on the ground as he tries to lift her, which means it’s open season on his upper body.
I aim for his chest and pull the trigger. The blowback knocks me on my ass, where I stay because I don’t have the strength to even hold my eyes open anymore.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
RJ
It’s been a week since I last saw Thane. And I couldn’t forget him or that kiss if I tried, thanks to the daydreams and Jordan.
“Have you heard from Thane today?” he asks without looking up from his phone.
“Nope,” I answer when I drop the keys to Mr. Moore’s F150 on the counter in front of him. “Call Deputy Moore and tell him his truck is ready.”
Instead of picking up the shop phone to dial the man’s phone number, he says, “Huh. Maybe he gave up.”
Gave up?
Why the fuck do those two words bring on a sudden case of heartburn? I press my fingers over my pec to try and stop the ache.
