Page 202
Story: House of Cards
“Zoey.” He smooths hair from my face, eyes scanning for signs of injury.
He’d need an MRI for that.
And an actual heart, not one carved from stone.
As much as I would love to be held and soothed right now, all I can think about is the expression on Smith’s face as he shot Miguel in the head. Or, rather, the lack thereof.
“I’m okay,” I murmur. “Get Elonzo!”
Smith blinks at me like he’s wondering who the fuck I’m talking about. Then I hear Troy’s boots thundering over the marble toward us. He slams into the bedroom door where Elonzo locked himself in, and Smith jolts like he’s just remembered we’re in the middle of a gang war.
“Go!” I wriggle in Smith’s grip, and he reluctantly lets me slide back to the ground. “I said I’m fine!”
I’m lying, of course.
I’ll never be fine again.
But if that psycho Elonzo escapes, I’ll never be able to sleep either. Always wondering if he’s around the corner, still so eager to sample the goods. Smith stands, gun braced in both hands but held low as he heads for the bedroom door.
I don’t dare close my eyes, because gravity still wants to suck me under, and fuck knows if it’ll just be a little nap or something more…permanent.
Thank God I force myself awake, because as Smith reaches the door, I see movement from the corner of my eye.
Luis.
I thought he was dead, but I guess that’s why these guys wear bullet-proof vests. Except Elonzo, because he thinks he’s God. Or the Devil, more likely.
No, Luis is alive. And he’s aiming his gun at Smith’s bare back.
If he gets a shot off, there’s nothing between Smith and that bullet.
We’re less than a yard apart, but it might as well be a mile. I’m on my back, shellshocked, and Luis already has Smith in his crosshairs. In the time it would take me to scramble over to him, Smith’s dead.
But I push onto hands and knees and yell out, “Hey, asshole!” anyway.
Luis must have thought I was unconscious, because he jerks in surprise at the sound of my voice and misses his shot. Wood sprays into the air inches away from Smith, just as he’s about to step into the bedroom behind Troy.
Luis glances over at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. Because as Luis takes aim again, I throw myself at him.
My weight isn’t enough to knock him back, but I grab his gun hand and wrestle the weapon free. It clatters to the ground, but my victory is short-lived, because a second later I’m pinned to the ground right beside it.
Something long and sharp and shiny appears in Luis’s hand.
A knife.
I hear Smith’s bare feet slap over the marble as he runs to us, but that knife is already arcing toward my face.
Someone fires.
Luis jerks away from me, tumbling onto his back on the floor with a hoarse scream. All I want to do is lie where I am, maybe close my eyes for a bit—forever—until this is all over.
But what if he gets up again?
I roll onto my side, see the knife still held loosely in Luis’s right hand, and dive for it. Luis groans and tries to hold on, but he was shot in the chest, right beside his vest, and it’s weakened his arm enough for me to pull the knife free.
Smith appears in my peripheries, but I’m done waiting for him to save me. He’d probably just try to trade me to Luis for a pack of cigarettes or something, anyway.
It shouldn’t be this easy to stab someone’s eye.
He’d need an MRI for that.
And an actual heart, not one carved from stone.
As much as I would love to be held and soothed right now, all I can think about is the expression on Smith’s face as he shot Miguel in the head. Or, rather, the lack thereof.
“I’m okay,” I murmur. “Get Elonzo!”
Smith blinks at me like he’s wondering who the fuck I’m talking about. Then I hear Troy’s boots thundering over the marble toward us. He slams into the bedroom door where Elonzo locked himself in, and Smith jolts like he’s just remembered we’re in the middle of a gang war.
“Go!” I wriggle in Smith’s grip, and he reluctantly lets me slide back to the ground. “I said I’m fine!”
I’m lying, of course.
I’ll never be fine again.
But if that psycho Elonzo escapes, I’ll never be able to sleep either. Always wondering if he’s around the corner, still so eager to sample the goods. Smith stands, gun braced in both hands but held low as he heads for the bedroom door.
I don’t dare close my eyes, because gravity still wants to suck me under, and fuck knows if it’ll just be a little nap or something more…permanent.
Thank God I force myself awake, because as Smith reaches the door, I see movement from the corner of my eye.
Luis.
I thought he was dead, but I guess that’s why these guys wear bullet-proof vests. Except Elonzo, because he thinks he’s God. Or the Devil, more likely.
No, Luis is alive. And he’s aiming his gun at Smith’s bare back.
If he gets a shot off, there’s nothing between Smith and that bullet.
We’re less than a yard apart, but it might as well be a mile. I’m on my back, shellshocked, and Luis already has Smith in his crosshairs. In the time it would take me to scramble over to him, Smith’s dead.
But I push onto hands and knees and yell out, “Hey, asshole!” anyway.
Luis must have thought I was unconscious, because he jerks in surprise at the sound of my voice and misses his shot. Wood sprays into the air inches away from Smith, just as he’s about to step into the bedroom behind Troy.
Luis glances over at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. Because as Luis takes aim again, I throw myself at him.
My weight isn’t enough to knock him back, but I grab his gun hand and wrestle the weapon free. It clatters to the ground, but my victory is short-lived, because a second later I’m pinned to the ground right beside it.
Something long and sharp and shiny appears in Luis’s hand.
A knife.
I hear Smith’s bare feet slap over the marble as he runs to us, but that knife is already arcing toward my face.
Someone fires.
Luis jerks away from me, tumbling onto his back on the floor with a hoarse scream. All I want to do is lie where I am, maybe close my eyes for a bit—forever—until this is all over.
But what if he gets up again?
I roll onto my side, see the knife still held loosely in Luis’s right hand, and dive for it. Luis groans and tries to hold on, but he was shot in the chest, right beside his vest, and it’s weakened his arm enough for me to pull the knife free.
Smith appears in my peripheries, but I’m done waiting for him to save me. He’d probably just try to trade me to Luis for a pack of cigarettes or something, anyway.
It shouldn’t be this easy to stab someone’s eye.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 132
- Page 133
- Page 134
- Page 135
- Page 136
- Page 137
- Page 138
- Page 139
- Page 140
- Page 141
- Page 142
- Page 143
- Page 144
- Page 145
- Page 146
- Page 147
- Page 148
- Page 149
- Page 150
- Page 151
- Page 152
- Page 153
- Page 154
- Page 155
- Page 156
- Page 157
- Page 158
- Page 159
- Page 160
- Page 161
- Page 162
- Page 163
- Page 164
- Page 165
- Page 166
- Page 167
- Page 168
- Page 169
- Page 170
- Page 171
- Page 172
- Page 173
- Page 174
- Page 175
- Page 176
- Page 177
- Page 178
- Page 179
- Page 180
- Page 181
- Page 182
- Page 183
- Page 184
- Page 185
- Page 186
- Page 187
- Page 188
- Page 189
- Page 190
- Page 191
- Page 192
- Page 193
- Page 194
- Page 195
- Page 196
- Page 197
- Page 198
- Page 199
- Page 200
- Page 201
- Page 202
- Page 203
- Page 204
- Page 205
- Page 206
- Page 207
- Page 208
- Page 209
- Page 210
- Page 211
- Page 212
- Page 213
- Page 214
- Page 215
- Page 216
- Page 217
- Page 218
- Page 219
- Page 220
- Page 221
- Page 222
- Page 223
- Page 224
- Page 225
- Page 226
- Page 227
- Page 228
- Page 229
- Page 230
- Page 231
- Page 232
- Page 233
- Page 234
- Page 235
- Page 236
- Page 237
- Page 238
- Page 239
- Page 240
- Page 241
- Page 242