Page 56 of Courting the Consequences

“Fuck off, asshole,” she grumbled and turned toward the stairs again.

She didn’t see his foot swing out and kick her feet out from under her. She cried out as her world tilted and her stomach dropped. Her arms flailed, trying to find something to grab on to. But it was too late. She was falling.

She tried to curl her body to fall defensively, but it didn’t matter. She fell hard down the unfinished wooden stairs. Her body landed in a crumpled heap on the concrete floor at the bottom. Her ribs crunched upon impact, and she felt something in her wrist give way.

She took a gasping breath, wondering why it felt like she was trying to breathe underwater. The last thing she saw before her world went black was her attacker slowly descending the stairs.

She came to, to the smell of acrid smoke in the air. She looked around in a daze. She was still at the bottom of the stairs. The basement was filled with smoke. Flames roared across the ceiling.

She heard footsteps approaching and looked up the stairs.

Her attacker was slowly walking down the steps. A black handgun was held out in front of him.

Kara struggled to back away. She used her elbows to drag her body backward. She winced when her elbow hit something metal. She looked quickly and saw the iron poker for her fireplace.

She picked it up and gripped it as hard as she could with her left hand—her right wrist appeared to be broken.

She didn’t know why her attacker hadn’t shot her yet. He advanced toward her, and she swung out with the poker with all her might. It hit him on the arm and, by some miracle, knocked the gun out of his hand.

She used every ounce of strength she had left to sit up and grab the gun before he could bend down for it.

She flicked off the safety, aimed, and squeezed the trigger, all with her left hand, before she could even think of aiming correctly. It didn’t matter. The man was large and three feet from her. She squeezed the trigger several more times, hitting him in the chest.

She fired until the gun was out of bullets and she realized she was screaming.

Her attacker fell backward, sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs.

She struggled to her good knee and hobbled toward him. She needed to know who he was. She reached for the ski mask and pulled it off his face. Staring back at her was the gaping mouth of Randall Diggins.

Her father’s hired goon.

She watched Diggins take his last breath and the light dim from his eyes before she fell away from him panting.

Her father had tried to kill her even after he’d ordered her to quit digging. Whatever her father was hiding, he would rather kill his own daughter than let it get out.

Kara coughed as smoke filled the basement. Her vision was darkening. She gave in to the darkness, too tired to move.

JohnnyrodearoundMourningside,his head a mess. How the fuck could Kara just walk in and stomp all over his heart with a few simple words? Why the fuck did he even care?

How the fuck had he fallen for her so quickly?

He didn’t let himself get attached to women. Ever. He didn’t fall in love with some whore.

But Kara wasn’t just some whore. No. Kara was special. Kara stood up to him. Kara gave as good as she got. She was fiery and passionate. She wasn’t afraid to stick up for herself and didn’t back down from a fight.

Then why the fuck did she just sit there and take everything he threw at her in church? Why didn’t she fight back? Call him out for talking to her like that?

Why the hell did she walk away so easily?

Johnny’s anger only grew the farther he rode. He didn’t even remember making the turns toward Kara’s house, but when he was blocks from her home, he knew he had to talk to her. Why the fuck would she just leave them like that?

The closer he got, the more he smelled the acrid scent of smoke. Something was on fire. Something large.

He turned the corner to her block and cussed. Her beautiful blue Craftsman was completely engulfed in flames.

He made a split-second decision and parked the bike several houses down. He stripped off his cut and left it on his bike before he ran toward her house. He kicked open the side door to the garage and headed for the stairs in the back that led to the basement.

The garage was still untouched. He hoped like hell he could get through the basement door leading into the kitchen. Smoke filled the air as he descended the stairs. He lifted his shirt over his nose and crouched down.

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