Page 112 of Hendrix

Heart hammering, I craned my neck to try and spot Daisy and see if I could gauge how close she was. It was dark now, though the full moon lit up the inky black sky, allowing me to catch a flash of movement a few hundred yards behind us.

I twisted my neck forward again. “Head for that big cluster of trees,” I suggested. “At least they’ll provide some cover.”

“She’s used two bullets,” he panted, his chest heaving from the exertion of hauling a heavily pregnant and injured woman through the countryside. “I think she’s got a SIG Sauer P365. That means if the chamber was full, she’s got no more than eight bullets left. If I can get her to shoot and miss, she’ll run out of ammo, and I can turn on her.” He glanced down at me. “I’m not a man who beats on women, but if it’s a choice between us or the crazy chick, I’ll forget my morals for once.”

“You won’t hear me arguing,” I told him flatly. “She had no problem beating on me or my baby. If I had a gun, I’d shoot her ass.”

His eyes dropped to my belly, then lifted to roam my face. “You need a hospital.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, almost bending double as a cramping sensation ripped through my belly. “There are doctors at the hotel. If you could get us back there, we’re covered.”

Another deafening crack filled the air, and Charlie stumbled. “Fuck.” He let out a strangled cry. “I’m hit.” He slowed down, and his feet faltered as he dropped to his knees and laid me on the ground.

“Where?” I asked, rolling to my feet and running my hands frantically down his arms. “Charlie, where did she hit you?”

“My shoulder.” His eyes closed against the pain. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“No. No. No.” Tears filled my eyes. “I need you to be okay, Charlie. Please be okay. We’re so close.”

His eyes slid to meet mine, and I was taken aback by the bleakness in them, a stark reminder of what we were up against.

My gaze darted over Charlie’s shoulder to see Daisy come stumbling through the undergrowth with her gun in hand as she approached us.

I don’t know what came over me.

Suddenly, the pain and terror faded, giving way to pure unadulterated anger.

This bitch had hurt me and my baby, all because a man humiliated her. Charlie was right. She was crazy, but I could be a crazy bitch, too. I had nothing to lose; she was gonna kill me and Charlie anyway, so why the fuck wasn’t I fighting back?

Sophie’s voice washed through my mind so clearly. It was like she was there, whispering in my ear.

Remember, a rock or dirt thrown in the eyes can be just as effective. No-holds-barred, bite, scratch, fight dirty... It will allow you to get away.

My fingertips brushed the ground, feeling the gritty grains of the dirt particles. I made a cupping motion with my hands, gathering as much as I could. With my mouth twisting into a sneer, my eyes lifted to meet Daisy’s. She was already starting to swing her weapon through the air, ready to aim it straight at me.

I had nothing to lose.

While her arm was extended, I took my chance. Surging forward, I rose to my feet and threw a handful of dirt into her face.

She shrieked in pain and twisted sideways, her hands flying to her eyes.

I scrambled toward her, almost doubling over from the pain ripping through me. I lunged and grabbed hold of the gun she still held in her hand that was jammed against her face. Then, tussling it away from her fingers, I stepped back, cocked, aimed, and fired, watching with a satisfied sneer as she fell onto the ground with a loud cry.

Blood pooled at her stomach, but I didn’t bend down to check on her. Instead, I turned and limped toward Charlie, who was still on his knees, except now, his neck was craned while he stared at me, his mouth agape.

“Jesus,” he croaked.

“We gotta go,” I stammered. “I can’t hold on much longer. The pain...” Tears filled my eyes as I watched Charlie stagger to his feet, his good arm grabbing my waist as I swayed with the shooting aches filling my insides.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he muttered, guiding me through the trees. “We’ve got this far. We gotta make it back, or what was the point, huh?”

I swallowed the bile rising through my gullet and tried to force one foot in front of the other.

That was all I needed to do, put one foot in front of the other, rinse and repeat, and hopefully, it would be enough.

Suddenly, it was like the weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Resignation set in, and my arm tightened around Charlie’s back as I held on for dear life while he more or less dragged me through the foliage in the direction of the clubhouse.

The thought of imminent death didn’t scare me anymore. The pain was so great, so immense, that I honestly didn’t see how I’d survive. But if God took me—if He decided it was my time to die—at least it wouldn’t be by Daisy's hand.

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