Page 39 of Devil's Claim

I pitched my body, reaching behind me and using my fingernails as a weapon. His howl was followed with a weakening of his grip.

Bolting forward, I caught a reflection in the window. He was right on top of me. Spinning around, I issued a hard punch, pain immediately tearing down my arm. But I refused to stop, kicking out. I had to get away. I had to find Kruz.

My legs ached, but I ran, constantly searching, trying to find Kruz. A hard thud pitched me into the air and I was tackled to the ground. The feel of hard cold steel pressed against the side of my head caught my breath.

Oh, God.

“Stay still.”

“Who are you?”

“Don’t ask any questions. You’re coming with me.” Just as he started to pull me to a standing position, the pressure was relieved and I was dropped. Crawling, I twisted around, catching the look on Kruz’s face as he wrapped his hand around the unknown man’s throat.

Pop! Pop!

Now I knew without a doubt. There was no way to fantasize my thoughts, no pretending he was some big bad guy.

He truly was.

He was also a killer.

As I slowly dropped my head, the sensations of being caught in a vacuum returned. My beautiful dress was likely ruined. Was it torn? Nope. Did the label say it was washable? Yes, it did. However, I wasn’t entirely certain blood and brain matter were supposed to be removed in a washing machine.

Didn’t that take specialists? Like forensic scientists?

A twisted laugh rose to the surface. There was no way I could stop the strangled sound.

“Are you alright?” Kruz asked quietly from the driver’s seat.

I hadn’t been paying attention, but even with the ringing in my ears from the horrific close-range gunfire, I thought he’d told me in no uncertain terms he was taking me home.

Wouldn’t the police be there?

Wouldn’t they be waiting for me, for us, asking question after question? Or worse, eager to arrest someone? It was official. I was close to reaching hysteria.

“As fine as I can be wearing half of Mr. Killer’s brain.”

He snorted in reply.

“You’re taking this so casually, as if being in the middle of a shooting range is a typical day at the office for you.” When he didn’t respond, I tipped my head, studying him as the lights of the city streets flashed by. “My God. That’s not far from the truth. Is it?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

“Said in every thriller movie where the bad guy meets the innocent girl. Only I’m no longer so innocent. Right? I allowed you to invade my life. My space.” My body. At least his influence and power over me had stopped right there. He wasn’t going to grab anything else essential.

His sigh was another answer. The wrong one.

“But you’re not hurt?” he repeated.

“Just a little sore.”

“I could kill the motherfucker all over again.”

“Trust me. He’s very dead.” The world as I knew it, however good or bad it had been, had been ceremoniously destroyed by violence. At least Chloe and Troy had made it out before the carnage had begun, and her parents had yet to arrive.

At this point, I was clueless about Tonya and Malcolm. While I wouldn’t admit it to anyone outside of the bright red car, a tiny part of me hoped Malcolm had died in the melee.

Only there was a single problem.