Page 114 of An Imperfect Scoundrel
Alana swung, striking him in the face, and he fell back with a howl.
Climbing from the floor, she kicked him in the ribs, then darted around his supine body, running for the exit. She yanked the door open, finding Louisa as she emerged from Mr. Hayward’s cabin, and was about to scream out when Mr. Evans tackled her from behind.
He shoved Alana into the door frame, her forehead smashing into the edge, and she staggered backward into Cedric’s cabin, unconsciousness threatening to overtake her.
The door slammed shut.
Spinning her to face him, he thrust her into the door and restrained her body against the wood with his hips. Reaching around her, he inserted a key into the lock, twisted the key, then removed it and shoved the key, and its companions, into his pocket.
“I can make this really pleasurable or really painful… your decision.” He drew a finger down her cheek.
Shivering, she turned away.
“I hope you die.”
“Painful, it is.”
His fingers dove into her hair, gripping the loose strands. Yanking sharply, he lifted her to her toes, walked over to the bed, and flung her onto the mattress. She bounced, rolling sideways, and crashed into the wall.
As he bore down on her, she grabbed a pillow and flung the cushion at him, but he sidestepped the pillow, chuckling as the soft projectile flew past his head. His taunting laughter echoing in her ears, she snatched the second pillow, holding it out in front of her.
He was going to kill her… actually, he was going to more than just kill her. Louisa couldn’t help her. She needed a weapon.
Her desperate gaze slid over the room, landing on the trunk from which Cedric had previously pulled two pistols.
Hope squeezing her chest, she launched herself at Mr. Evans, hitting him in the face with the pillow, then rebounded, aiming for the trunk. She attacked the trunk, jerking the lid upward, her hands madly searching the cloth as Mr. Evans advanced.
Relief exploded in her body as her fingers closed around the cold metal of a gun. Grabbing the pistol, she whipped around and raised the weapon, pointing the pistol directly at the center of Mr. Evans’ chest.
“Unlock the door,” she commanded, her voice unwavering.
“Are you going to throw that at me, too?” he sneered, taking one exaggerated step toward her.
“No.” She drew back the hammer.
He stopped at the sound, setting his boot back on the floor. Raising his hands, a sneer hovered on his lips. “Do you know how to use a pistol?”
“I do.” She rose from the floor, her free hand tugging down the edge of her shirt as she stood and gestured to one of the chairs. “You and I are going to wait for Captain Shaw to return.”
“He will still hang. What explanation can he give to the crew? You are standing here in front of me… alive.” Sliding one foot behind the other, Mr. Evans moved toward the chair, keeping his eyes on the muzzle.
“And you are in front of me as well. You’ve been missing since last night.” She tilted her head. “Pray tell, why were you sneaking around the captain’s cabin?”
He paled at her words. “I have my reasons.”
“I’m sure Captain Shaw would be interested in those reasons as well.” She arched her eyebrows. “But it was my trunk you were searching. Did you put something inside the chest, perhaps? Jewelry of some kind?”
“I’m certain we can work out an agreement, Mrs. Dubois.” A bead of sweat slid down Mr. Evans’ cheek. His eyes flicked to her face. “My silence for yours?”
Alana shook her head, pointing the pistol at the chair. “Sit.”
Mr. Evans snarled and launched himself at her. He knocked her onto the bed and landed on top of her, stretching for the gun. His fingers closed around the pistol. They rolled across the mattress, fighting for the gun, and tumbled onto the floor, Alana’s head narrowly missing the corner of her trunk.
“Do you feel that, Mrs. Dubois?” Crushing her with his weight, Mr. Evans ground himself against the apex of her thighs, his mouth on her ear. “I’m going to shove my cock into you over and over until you bleed, then I’m going to kill you.”
A deafening gunshot reverberated off the walls.
Trapped beneath Mr. Evans’ bulk, Alana’s eyes flicked to his face.
