Page 23 of More Than a Match

He turns to glance at me and laughs. “That’s not happening.”

“Let me out, right now,” I insist, my voice shaking as badly as my hands.

He reaches over and grabs the gun from the front seat. “I said, not happening,” he spits out, accentuating every word.

I know emergency services is likely on the way based on the alert I received on my phone, but what if they’re too late? What if they can’t find me? The rain is coming down in torrential waves now, making it nearly impossible to see my surroundings in the dark. I don’t know where I am.

“Give me your phone,” he hisses. “Don’t need you calling anyone for help.”

The last thing I want to do is give this man my one lifeline, but he’s got a gun. If I don’t give him what he wants, I don’t know what he’s willing to do. I hand over my phone reluctantly, and he tosses it onto the seat beside him.

A wave of adrenaline washes over me as I remember a self-defense class I took my freshman year of college. I unbuckle my seatbelt and lunge forward, grabbing his hair with both hands and pulling as hard as I can.

“You bitch! Let go!”

“You wouldn’t let me go,” I grunt, not loosening my hold on his thin hair.

I pull as hard as I can, whipping his head to the left and right to try and disorient him. He flails at me, and the gun connects with the side of my head, sending a bolt of pain through my body, but I don’t let go.

The car jerks as he swerves, then loses control, spinning out on the slick road. My fingers are still clamped in a vice grip on his head as the car careens sideways down the empty road, hydroplaning on the water. I release his head just as we slam to a stop against a light post. His head snaps forward, then sideways, connecting first with the steering wheel and then the side window as the airbags deploy.

I see my phone on the floor of the car and glance at the driver. He’s either unconscious or dead, his head bloody from the impact of the crash. I throw my body forward and snatch my phone up.Who do I call? The police are probably already coming, but I should call them anyway, the logical side of me argues. The rest of me is screaming one word, one singular thought.Alex.

I open my phone, grimacing at the cracked screen.Dammit.I send Alex a quick SOS message and drop a pin for my location. My next move is to call 911.

“Help, I’ve been kidnapped, and I managed to fight him off. He crashed the car, I don’t know if he’s dead or just unconscious,” I gush as soon as the line connects.

I climb out of the wreck and back away from the car, not caring that the rain is pelting my skin.I’m free.

“Alright honey, calm down. Where are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look around, are there street signs? An intersection?”

Of course. You know that, Mina. You aren’t a child.I look around and see a hardware store, and a side street with a sign. “Yes, I’m at the end of Miller Street, by the Breakers Hardware Store. I don’t know the name of the main street I’m on though. Just that Miller is intersecting here.

“Ok, that’s enough, we can find you from there. What happened?”

“I got into my rideshare and he took me the wrong way, and when I asked him to let me out he wouldn’t.”

“Is he armed?”

“Yes, he has a gun.” A creaking sound behind me sets my teeth on edge and I whirl around. “Oh god, he’s awake. He’s climbing out of the car!”

I turn and take off into the night, the rain stinging my eyes. “I’m running,” I tell the operator.”

“Get back here, bitch!” the man howls, and a gunshot rings out.

“He’s shooting at me!”

The headlights of a car whipping around the corner blind me, and I scramble out of the way just in time. The car screeches to a halt and the window rolls down.

“Get in.”

My heart stops for a moment, and then relief washes over me. It’s Alex.

CHAPTER 18: ALEX

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