Page 34 of Toxic
As the adrenaline begins to wear off, I wrap my arms around myself to stave off the shakes that wrack me all the way down to the bone. A part of me, the part that wanted to believe in the lie Gracin had spun, wants to break down and cry, but that part of me is shriveled up, a husk of who I used to be. The woman emerging from the ashes of my past life is harder, less trusting, anddetermined.
I won’t let them beat me. Won’t let him be yet another mistake I let ruinmylife.
As I begin to crash, the weariness from a long day of work makes my eyes droop, and my mind goes fuzzy. That’s why I don’t notice we’re going in the wrong direction until it’stoolate.
“Excuse me,” I say to the driver, a little annoyed. “You’re going in the wrong direction. You should have gotten off at the last exit. Can you please take thenextone?”
“Yes, ma’am,”hesays.
“Thanks.”
I blow out a breath. Just what I need. Another delay in getting out of the city. I nearly laugh. Making an escape at seven in the evening is pretty much a fruitless endeavor. Travel between four and eight is practically gridlocked, but there’s nothing I can doaboutit.
At the slow crawl, we’re forced to make it takes another thirty minutes before we make the next exit. I strain to catch a glimpse of the sign, and then relax when it comesintoview.
“Right here,” I tell the driver, who either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care to follow my directions. “Uh, sir? That was the exit. Can youhearme?”
He doesn’t respond, and unease prickles at the back ofmyneck.
“Excuseme?”
When he ignores me again, I try the doors, but they’re locked, and no amount of pushing the buttons will unlock them. Panic spurts inside me, and I almost whimper. Suddenly, being cornered and surrounded by vehicles doesn’t feel as safe as it did a few minutes ago. I pull the gun from my purse where I’d stowed it after the attack in myapartment.
I steady my hands and keep the gun close, just in case. I don’t think I’m overreacting, but if I am, I’ll end up as just another crazy chick in a city full of them. I won’t take any chances, even if I have to takeanotherlife.
To think just a few months ago, my only concern was saving lives, and now it’s taking them to protectmyown.
We drive in silence, picking up speed as the traffic slowly begins to clear. I don’t know the rest of LA as well as I know the area around my apartment, so I don’t recognize where he’s taking me. He eventually gets off the freeway, which drops us somewhere downtown moving too fast for me to risk an escape without potentialinjury.
“Please,” I say to the driver. “Please just let me go. I’ll give you cash, whateveryouwant.”
I learn something then that’s more terrifying than a man’s barefists.
Silence.
Not knowing what’s going tohappen.
The anticipation is a thousand times worse than the actualviolence.
It claws at me,tauntsme.
His lack of response tells me there isn’t anything I could offer him that would deter him. I can’t think of a single person who would kidnap me besides Gracin, and I decide he must be paying him a shit-load to fetch me. I don’t know who Gracin was involved with, and I didn’t want to know. I have a feeling I’ll find outanyway.
I don’t dare risk shooting him while we’re driving. If he crashes, there’s no guarantee I’ll make it out myself. I’ll just have to save my escape for when we stop. The gun gives me an advantage. I just have to be smart aboutusingit.
When we pull to a stop at a nondescript warehouse, my whole body tenses, and the gun is slippery in my damp palms. There are no lights outside, so I can only see the faintest outline of the massive building. Nothing about it is reassuring. I have to get outofhere.
My first shot clips the soft tissue of his arm, causing him to emit an inhuman shriek. The second buries itself into his throat. I’ll never forget the gurgling sound he makes as he chokes on his blood. I push it to the back of my mind because I don’t have time to thinkaboutthat.
I climb over the center console and unlock the front door, avoiding his grabby hands as I shove at his body to dump him out the driver’s side door. He’sheavy, and the angle is awkward, but I manage to topple him over. I’m about to pull the door closed again when three men in expensive-looking suits jog out of the building and towardthecar.
The car’s still running, so I slam it in reverse, but before I can gun it, the passenger side door opens and a fourth man points a gun atmyface.
“Drop the weapon and get out of the car unless you want a bullet between those lovely eyes,” heorders.
I release the gun, letting it fall to the seat, and he snatches it away. My hand goes to my stomach, not because I’m feeling queasy, though there’s certainly some of that, but to protect the life growingthere.
The life Gracin and I made and that I’d die toprotect.