I have no doubt he’ll kill Kristen. And I can’t let that happen. It would devastate Dominic.
Besides, this gun isn’t the only thing I have on me.
“You and I…same time, got that? Don’t even think about doing anything funky or I’m going to blow your head off,” I say, doing my best to keep my voice steady, as though I’m the one in control.
He makes a spread-handed I can be reasonable gesture. “Fine.”
He and I both slowly squat and place the remote and gun next to us. Then we get up, just as slowly, and kick them off to the side. They glide out of sight.
“See? I’m not the bad guy here. I’m a man of my word,” Andy says. He takes a step toward me.
Fear leaves a sour taste in my mouth, my breathing growing rougher and shallower. He’s entirely too unconcerned. I pull out a knife from the small of my back. It’s a kitchen knife—a little awkward for attacking—but it’ll do.
“Great minds think alike!” Andy pulls a knife too. His is a hunting knife, double-edged and designed to kill. “Guns really are boring. Too distant. I like it up close and personal. I need to feel your pulse when I squeeze your neck. I want to smell your fear when I fuck you.”
“Only a pathetic loser like you’d want to terrorize women,” I say, trying to keep an eye on him and locate my gun on the floor. I’m not going to win a knife fight with him. He’s got reach and probably speed as well. I have to get my gun or this is game over. “You wouldn’t have had the guts to come if Tolyan were here.”
“I’m not afraid of him. That’s why I punished him.”
What?
“I hope his brat dies,” Andy adds.
I gasp. “You were the hit-and-run driver?”
“Uh-huh. And man, it felt good to hit that kid. It’s too bad I couldn’t put the car in reverse and run him over again. Now I just have to hope his doctor’s an alcoholic.”
Oh my God. Poor Lyosha. Regret pours through me. If it weren’t for me…he would’ve never been hurt. “You bastard.”
I finally see the gun. It’s a bit far, but I can get it. I know I can.
“Said that already. You need to expand your vocabulary.” He smiles. “Let’s play.”
Andy lunges for me. I drop my knife and dive for the gun. The tips of my fingers graze the cool metal, but he kicks it out of reach, then grabs my hair, yanking my head back, and punts me in the side. Something cracks, and I gasp at the pain.
Placing his feet on each side of me, he drops his whole weight on my belly, and I almost double over, feeling like I just got punched in the stomach. He backhands me, left-right, then reverse. My ears ring, my vision dimming.
“Stupid bitch. Who’s the gutless loser now, huh?” he snarls. “Answer me, you slut!”
I gasp as he grinds his butt against my belly, nearly crushing me. “You,” I manage. “You’re the gutless loser.”
He backhands me again. Copper fills my mouth. “It’s all your fucking fault I had to kill my parents! If you hadn’t told them to get in my way, I wouldn’t have to do that! They could’ve just kept covering for me!”
He punctuates every statement with a slap. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. Each successive blow feels slightly less painful than the one before. But for all I know, I could be too out of it to register anything correctly.
Just stay alive until Dominic arrives.
I cling to that thought. Surely I can do that much.
Andy rips at my shirt, causing all the buttons to fly. He curses when he can’t get my jeans off as easily. They’re old and about half a size too tight.
“Fuck!” He grabs his hunting knife and cuts roughly into the denim as though he’s skinning a kill.
The blade slices my skin open. I vaguely register the sting.
Gotta stop him. I have to stop him.
But somehow I’m incapable of moving. My limbs are so heavy, and my face throbs so hard. I want to cry, but I can’t cry. Tears would only make Andy happy.