Page 51 of Slaying for Santa
“Okay,” I snap. “I’ll drink your damn drink, but you’d better give me the best orgasm for treating me like this.”
God, could I sound any more bimboish?
Snake’s eyes narrow before he nods to his bouncer buddies, and they release their hold.
“You say you want to party, but you won’t do coke with me or have a drink. Seems a little off to me,” he snaps, and I shrug, fluttering my lashes as he holds the glass out again.
“I’m just pacing myself.” I smile up at him even though I want to dick punch him.
Hey, now there’s an idea.
I accept the glass from him, and he takes a step back, finally giving me space.
With his arms crossed over his chest, he stares down at me, waiting, and I quickly contemplate my next move.
Dumb and Dumber have backed off, but they are stilllingering behind me, too close for comfort. If I try to run, they’ll be on me before I even lurch up off this shitty couch.
My eyes land on my purse laying forgotten on the floor just outside the powder room. My phone is in there, plus a knife, but I have two others concealed in my boots.
“I’m sick of fucking waiting. Drink the fucking drink!” Snake bellows, making me flinch.
I roll my eyes and lift the glass to my lips, the scent of whiskey teasing my taste buds.
Shit, what I’d give to feel that burn. To let the alcohol relax me.
Nine hundred and twenty days.
With my eyes trained on Snake, I tip the glass against my lips, knowing I have two options here.
The first is I drink it. Throw my sobriety out the window to protect myself, all while putting myself in more danger, because once the drugs kick in, I know I’ll be useless.
The second is tossing the drink and trying to make a run for it, knowing they’ll likely catch me and drug me, anyway.
The first option is the most obvious, but the problem with that is I’m a fighter, and no one dictates my sobriety other than me. So if I’m going down, then I’m going down swinging.
Without second guessing myself, I hurl the glass at Snake’s head and leap off the couch, hearing it clunk against his head before smashing to the floor.
“Get her!”
The bouncers shout as they come for me. I make it five steps before someone slams into my back, sending us crashing to the floor.
The weight of one of the thugs crushes me, and I try to squirm, reaching for my purse that’s only a few short inches away, but shit, those inches feel like miles.
“You fucking whore!” Snake yells, shoving the thug offme before slamming his foot into my ribs. “I knew you were up to something! Are you a fucking cop?!”
I wheeze out a strangled whimper as my winded lungs fight for air, and Snake flips me over on my back as he and his bouncers loom over me.
“You didn’t just start teasing me randomly. You fucking sought me out. Who are you and what do you want?!”
I part my lips to speak, but I’m still struggling for air, so I lift my hand and uncurl my middle finger, flipping him off.
He snarls before his foot comes down on my head, pain bursting through my skull as my vision wavers.
“Cunts like you deserve everything you fucking get,” he hisses before glaring at his thug buddies. “Fucking hold her in place.”
My head is dazed and fuzzy, feeling heavy as it lolls to the side to see my purse so close.
Kit… I’m sorry.
