It was the guy I shot in the shoulder and one other. The last one had a switchblade that he kept passing from one hand to the other. The guy with the shoulder wound wasn’t even putting any pressure on it. He was just letting himself bleed. He grinned like a maniac.
He was either incredibly tough or incredibly crazy. Or both.
I shuffled my feet as I tried to figure out who’s going to attack first. Then, Knife Guy feinted at me while Shoulder Wound attacked. I saw it coming and managed to sidestep him, grabbing his arm as it passed by my face. I used pressure points to leverage him to the ground.
As soon as I’d gotten Shoulder Wound on his knees, Knife Guy lunged again. Quick as I could, I yanked Shoulder Wound in front of me. The switchblade buried itself in his other shoulder.
Shoulder Wound (squared) dropped, screaming. Knife Guy, stunned by his assault on his own guy, watched him go down. Which is when I took the opportunity to land a solid right hook on his jaw. The guy was unconscious before he hit the ground.
I hurried to grab my gun. But just as I was bending down to pick it up, I was tackled again. I fell on my back, and someone was suddenly on top of me.
Shoulder Wound.
He was still going. Maniacal shouts escaped from his mouth as he pressed his body weight on me and wrapped his hands around my throat, strangling me. Blood dripped down his arms, making his grip somewhat slippery. But he was squeezing hard enough that I couldn’t get out. Darkness was edging into my eyes.
I flailed out with one of my hands and my fingertips brushed the metal of my gun. It was just out of reach. I tried to stretch and strain as much as I could while Shoulder Wound kept trying to squeeze the life out of me.
My middle finger managed to get just enough leverage to start sliding the gun my way. I managed to get it into my hand.
Gripping it was a whole other story, however. The life was draining from me as Shoulder Guy continued his full press on my windpipe.
I’m losing this round. It would be so easy to just drift away. What am I even fighting this guy for?
I thought of Theresa. I thought of Larroca trying to harm her.
The weight of the gun in my hand was my salvation. I forced myself to grip it. To raise it between the two of us. I pressed its muzzle to Shoulder Guy’s belly.
He glanced down at the space between us.
I fired, over and over again until my clip was empty. His guts exploded out his back. His corpse fell off to my side.
Weary, choking for air, I hauled myself to standing. I blinked away the spots from my eyes.
Then I heard a loud chorus of barbarian-like yells. A door burst open, and a mass of vicious-looking men poured through it.
Christ. How many thugs did Larroca have on his payroll, anyway?
19
Theresa
Accelerated heartbeat. Sweaty hands. I could tell Larroca was scared, and for good reason. Fixer had burst into the room in a flurry of violence. Even through their brief exchange, I could tell Fixer had Larroca’s number. The only issue was all of the other men with guns who entered the room as Larroca dragged me away.
I believed in Fixer. Even against superior numbers I knew he would find his way to me. In other circumstances I would have been freaking out at the number of bullets that were likely about to be sent his direction, but I had my own problems. Larroca was dragging me to a secondary location. Whether to use as a hostage should Fixer prevail or just so he could kill me without catching a stray bullet, I wasn’t sure.
Either way, I just had to keep myself alive as long as possible. Judging by how tightly Larroca was gripping my neck, I wasn’t sure I had time to wait for Fixer to catch up to us though. It looked like I would have to go on the offensive and take care of things myself then.
I’m sure I wasn’t thinking totally straight, being dragged along by a man who could kill me at any second. Even so, I tried to take stock of my situation. My wrists were still bound in front of me, but my legs were free. Larroca had one arm wrapped around my neck as he pulled me away. Fixer wouldn’t be able to help me, but it didn’t seem like any of Larroca’s goons were following us either.
I clawed at his arm and wriggled in his grip as he dragged me out of the room. He was too strong for me to think I’d actually be able to break free of him, but I needed to buy time until I got an opening. We were in a run-down, partially renovated hallway. Construction equipment sat against the walls.
As the door swung closed behind us, things became unsettlingly quiet. I stopped struggling, as it didn’t seem to be effecting him in the slightest and tried to reason with him.
“You know this isn’t going well. Your best bet is to just let me go and run. When Fixer finishes with your men, I’ll even ask him to just leave you alone. We can just go our separate ways, never to bother one another again.”
His arm tightened painfully around my neck.
“Do you think I don’t know what kind of man he is? What kind of woman you are? You must think I’m a fucking idiot if you think I’d believe you for a second.”
I grunted in pain, but didn’t respond. It wouldn’t have been constructive to tell him he was absolutely right. This piece of shit didn’t deserve to just walk away.
It was at that moment, whether by Providence or pure luck, Larroca caught his foot on a cord and stumbled into scaffolding. I didn’t miss my opportunity. I batted his arm away and started to run down the hallway. I only managed a few steps before I felt his grip tighten around my arm. He shoved me against the wall, holding my chin in one hand as he snarled in my face.
“Enough of your shit, woman. I’ve never killed a fancy district attorney before, but thanks to you I’ll be able to add it to my list of accomplishments.”
I’d had more than enough of this asshole. He might have been bigger and physically stronger than me, but I knew his weakness.
I kicked him in the balls.
His gaping mouth and the small, mewling sound that escaped his lips filled me with an immense sense of satisfaction. I couldn’t take time to enjoy it, though. I needed to get away. I started to run once again, but Larroca proved himself resilient. Like a cockroach.
He managed to grab my ankle, sending me sprawling to the ground. On pure reflex, I got my arms in front of myself so I didn’t bash my head in on the ground. I ignored the dust in my face and the cuts on my arms, as the adrenaline let me ignore the pain as I bounced back to my feet.
Even though he’d tripped me, I could see Larroca was already recovering. I’m sure there were plenty of viable weapons around, but admittedly, I was panicking. That’s why I just grabbed the closest thing to me to use as a weapon. It was a splintering two by four. I couldn’t get that good of a grip with my hands still bound, but I swung as hard as I could.
It cracked across Larroca’s face. He immediately fell back to the floor. His cheek was split open. Blood was running down his face to his jaw in a steady flow and dribbling to the floor. A few stray splinters were even sticking out of his face. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the violence I had just inflicted on another human. He was an asshole and he deserved everything that was coming to him, but that was a lot of blood.
He screamed in pain. I might have screamed back, I can’t really remember. I had been paralyzed, but his scream shocked me into motion again. I dropped the two by four and turned to run. The last thing I saw as I turned was his face as Larroca looked up at me.