Page 93 of Deathtoll

She spat into his face.

He smacked her with the hand that held the plyers.

The pain was instant, excruciating, and if he shattered her cheekbone, she had no time to think about it.

The asshole was between her and her sister, severely underestimating them both.

“Now!” Emma screamed as she kicked him, tipping him forward, Kate plowing her shoulder into him with all her strength.

He smacked his head into the cement block wall behind them with a satisfying thud. Kate jammed her shoulder into his ribs. Emma kicked the gun from his waistband, then kicked it farther away. Then they used their heads, shoulders, and knees to pummel him.

If they weren’t tied up, they could have beaten him senseless. But without hands, without being able to rise, they had too little leverage.

With a beastly roar, he lunged back and picked up his gun. He aimed it at Kate’s head.

She didn’t flinch. She wouldn’t look away.

Then he pointed the gun at Emma, and that was more difficult to take.

“Go ahead, you limp-dick piece of shit,” Emma taunted him, her eyes blazing with courage.

“If I didn’t have a more painful plan in mind for you than just a quick bullet, you’d already be dead.” He spat the words, then spat blood next.

And then, with a last vicious curse, he left them.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Kate

“He’s going to blow us up at the parade.” Emma pulled her knees tightly to her chest, her bravado gone.

They were both deflating and fast.

“I think so.” Kate looked at her sister with one eye. The other one was rapidly swelling shut. “But first he’s going to call Murph here, using us for bait.”

“Murph will know it’s a trap.”

“He’ll come anyway.” Kate let fury fill her. “I’m not going to let Asael hurt my baby, or you, and I’m not going to let him hurt Murph. I’m not going to let him hurt this town either. We have to warn people.”

She retrieved the pieces of the manicure set one by one. Good thing she’d been gaining the lost weight back and her pants were tight, so nothing had fallen out. Being tied to the water pipe, she could move her hand up and down, could scoot close enough so she was able to reach into the back of her waistband. “How do these plastic ties work? You thread the end through the little hole in the other end and something catches, right?”

“The plastic is serrated. I think it’s the same as the green ones Dad uses to tie out his tomatoes.”

Kate went through her tool set by feel and settled on the slim metal nail file.

She tossed the file toward Emma’s feet. “Hey. Yoga Queen. Do you think you could pick that up with your toes, lift your legs and bring your feet behind me, and shove the tip of the file into the plastic tie’s lock mechanism?”

To give her sister a better chance at seeing where she was aiming, Kate turned to the other side, presenting her hands tied behind her back.

“I think,” she said, “that the only thing keeping these ties locked is a little lip of plastic inside. It catches against the serrated side of the tie and holds. If you can slip the tip of the nail file over that lip and push it down, I could get free.”

Emma pinched the nail file between her toes, then folded herself in half, lifting her feet over her head. Then promptly stabbed Kate.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry. Difficult to be coordinated in this position.”

“You’re more coordinated than I would be. Keep trying.”