Page 99 of Puck Lust

Maybe I should have called the cops.

But I keep inching forward. My feet squeak on the cracked linoleum floor.

Streaks of red appear under my feet as I move deeper into the hellhole.

I whip my head around, panic clenching my gut when I see Jeremy’s crumpled-up body in a corner. There’s gray duct tape slapped over his mouth, his face stained with tears.

I bolt toward him and something smashes me against the side of my face. I stumble backward into a wall, narrowly missing a line of cockroaches that scurry past along the floor.

The same man from Play It Forward appears out of the shadows, a demonic smile on his face.

“Guess it really is true that hockey players are dumber than shit,” he bites out, swinging a gun in front of my face. “All it took was a couple of texts to get you here. Goddamn, that was too easy.”

I hold a hand to the side of my face and wince, my skin on fire. “Look, you sick fuck, back the hell off. I’m taking the kid.”

He lets out a sharp laugh. “You and what army? I’m the one holding the gun right now. How the fuck do you think you’re gonna get out of here?”

Jeremy’s father takes a few unsteady steps toward me, hisbreath reeking of liquor, eyes so bloodshot, I’m surprised he can see straight.

Then out of the corner of my eye, I spot a rolling pin on the counter. I don’t even want to think about why it’s there or what the fuck this maniac was using it for, but it may be our only hope of getting out of here.

A rolling pin against a gun.

Fuck me.

“Nobody is gonna tell me how to raise my kid,” the guy sneers. “And I’m gonna make sure you pay plenty of your fucking millions for dragging my name through the dirt.”

“You don’t deserve him,” I seethe. “You’re a miserable fucking bastard for hurting him. Your kid. Your flesh and blood. You’re the most vile, disgusting kind of person and you deserve to fucking rot in hell.”

He just laughs. “Say whatever you want. But now I’m gonna show you what happens to people who don’t know how to mind their own business.”

The guy lumbers toward me, the toe of his shoe getting caught in a cracked floor tile. I grab the rolling pin and swing it around so it cracks against his head. He goes down hard and I dodge him to get to Jeremy. His hands are taped together behind his back and his feet are taped up, too.

His dad moans and writhes on the floor. I see a pair of scissors and cut through the tape around his ankles the pull him off the floor. Just as I cut through the tape around his wrists, the guy grunts and staggers to his feet, the gun still in his hand.

Memories of the last night I saw my father pop between my ears.

I shove past him, like I did my father years ago.

Holding Jeremy close, I lead him toward the door when theexplosion scrambles my brain and shudders my chest. A bullet lodges into the wall next to us.

“Don’t even think about it, fucker. He’s my kid!”

I look back, down the barrel of the gun.

Shoving Jeremy in front of me, we reach the door. I push him out just as another shot fires.

My body buckles but I keep moving. I push Jeremy toward the stairs, clenching my teeth when my left arm erupts into flames seconds later. I clutch my dead arm, a warm, sticky liquid flowing over my fingers.

“Go,” I rasp. But he hangs onto me, helping me down the steps. Three fucking flights. I fall to my knees once we hit the bottom floor, my breaths short and sharp. Jeremy pulls me up and pulls the tape from his mouth.

“We have to go,” he says in a shaky, teary voice. “He’ll kill us if he catches us.”

In the deep recesses of my fogged brain, I hear yelling and know he’s right.

I use every bit of strength in me to get up and out of the building.

Thankfully, my car is still next to the curb; although, my rims are gone.

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