Expecting to Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)

She let out her breath and kept in the shadows. What if there were no keys in the ignition? If she couldn’t get the truck started. If—

Nearly at the truck, she froze.

Kywin!

Where the hell was Kywin Bell?

Frantically she searched the area near the truck. She’d left him writhing on the ground, his face a bloody pulp, but . . .

Every hair on her scalp twitched. Goose pimples crawled up her arms, but she saw the open door to the cab and she flung herself toward it. Just as she heard a low growl and unsteady footsteps.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him. He launched himself through the air, a massive black monster. He hit her hard, his weight propelling her to the ground inches from the pickup.

“You fuckin’ bitch!” he growled on top of her, big fists curled, as he worked his legs to straddle her, pinning her arms with his tree-stump legs. “Did you really think you could get away?” He snarled, looming like a monster above her. His nose was mashed, his words nasal, his eyes bright with a need for personal revenge. “You’re gonna pay!” He turned his head and yelled into the darkness. “I got her! Up here! At the truck! Alive. For the old man.”

Her fingers tightened over the screwdriver. The way he was positioned, his legs spread wide, her arms pinned together beneath his crotch, she had one chance.

Now, she thought, do it now!

With all her strength, she reared up. Her clasped hands forced the screwdriver upward, through his shorts and deep into his scrotum.

He roared in pain, tried to jump away. “Aaaaagggh!”

She shoved again.

“Shit! Damn. Fuck. Aaaaah, Geeeeod!” Still he was atop her. And she heard running footsteps fast approaching.

Tophman!

She pulled back on the screwdriver. Heard a sucking sound, then with all her strength, thrust up again driving hard.

With a shriek, he grabbed his crotch as something warm poured from his shorts. He rolled off her, allowing her just enough room to slither away.

Screaming in pain, holding the juncture of his legs, he rolled in the earth and cursed at her.

“What the hell?” Tophman’s voice—too close—boomed over the whimpering and swearing of the man curled into a fetal position.

She didn’t wait. Clawed her way to her feet. Nearly fell into the cab and forced herself inside.

The keys—the blessed keys—dangled from the ignition.

She turned the switch and the big engine roared to life.

Yanking the door closed, she caught a glimpse of Tophman, running now, not far away, the shotgun at his shoulder.

She found reverse and hit the gas, the truck backing up. Tophman jumped out of the way as the pickup bucked wildly over the rough earth, hitting something solid as it stopped. Bell screamed again.

She’d run over him!

“Hey! Hey!” Tophman was yelling, but she threw the truck into first and, sitting on the edge of the driver’s seat, floored it. Gravel and dust sprayed from under the tires.

A horrifying shriek split the night.

Tophman yelled, “No! No! No! You fucking—oh, hell. Fuck her old man!”

She was going to do it! She would make it! If Tophman didn’t shoot her first.

What? Fuck her old man? Who were they talking about? Lucky? He was behind this? “No,” she whispered. That had to be all wrong. He would never . . . not even for fame or glory or money or . . . “No, no, no!” She pounded on the steering wheel with a fist as the truth hit her. Hard. Understanding, vile as it was, burned through her veins. Her heart thundering, her whole world turned upside down to a dark oblivion, she tried to pull herself together. To save herself. She stared at the break in the trees that had once been a road and now was just dry earth in a narrow swath cutting through the forest. Good enough! She nearly stood on the accelerator, the truck bouncing and shimmying as the big tires hit rocks and roots and snags.