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And then he slides out of the booth and grabs my arm. “Clara Everett, you are under arrest for kidnapping and child endangerment?—”
I’m suddenly bent over the table with both arms forcefully twisted behind my back. “What? No!No!Get off me!”
I hear the clicking of his cuffs as he pulls them from his pocket. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do?—”
Gunshots.
Screams.
Oh, God.
But it’s not inside the diner. It’s outside, only a block away. People are screaming and running into the streets, ducking for cover and frantically trying to dial their loved ones.
Dad springs into action. He may be off-duty, but he’s still a cop. “Forget it, Martin. We need to go.”
“But—”
“Now!”
My father is already out the door. Martin growls with frustration, then pockets his cuffs and pulls out a zip tie instead. “This is some timing, don’t you think?” He snarls in my ear as he tightens the plastic around my wrists.
I don’t know what to think. I just don’t want to get shot by a stray bullet through the window.
Martin yanks me to my feet and shoves me to the door, one hand braced against my back while the other holds the tie. He curses under his breath the whole way and even louder once we’re outside.
“I know this has something to do with your new boyfriend,” he continues to snarl. He yanks open the back door of his squad car and shoves me onto the hard seat. “So is it just him you’re fucking? Or do you let the whole goddamn gang get a taste?”
More gunshots, then a small explosion. Now, Martin seems to be taking the attack seriously, because he flinches and ducks behind the door for a moment.
“Stay here,” he barks at me. Then he slams the door shut, hitting my shins with the sidebar.
Like I’m going anywhere…
I can’t. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t stop shaking.
I don’t wanna die.
I don’t wanna go to jail, either.
I want to just be able to get up and walk away from here. But I can’t because I can’t breathe and I can’t move and I can’tthink…
Spots blur my vision. I hear more than feel my lungs wheeze for every gasping breath.
I’m having a full-blown panic attack.
Tears roll down my face as I struggle to breathe, or even move beyond the violent shaking in my limbs. I’m so fucking scared and the worst part is, I’m not sure which outcome terrifies me more: getting shot in some streetside attack, getting arrested and thrown in jail, or going back to Martin.
I think I’m gonna throw up.
Someone yanks the back door open.
And the panic swallows me whole.
TO BE CONTINUED
