Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
There’s nothing in the rear of the van for me to clobber this kidnapping asshole in the head with.
So I’m going to have to do this the hard way. With my hands. Or maybe my legs.
But getting my legs around his neck seems a little impractical given that we’re flying down a curvy country road.
At least he’s distracted. He’s on the phone. Again.
“Yo, where do you think I can get some tacos at this hour?” he asks someone, confounding me even more.
Seriously. He’s worried about eating when he just kidnapped me from the King’s compound and then had the nerve to extort my father, the Prez of the Dagger Boys to get me back?
Life is grand, let me tell you.
While he’s being all chatty, I scoot across the floor to get into a better position. My neck aches as I move, reminding me that I was just in a car crash a few hours ago.
If this goes like I expect it to, I’m about to be in another.
The conversation about late-night food drags on. They are debating now. Who makes the best chicken soft tacos. For real. I’m getting hungrier by the minute.
Come to think of it, I can’t remember what I ate or when that was.
I climb to my knees, thankful he’s mistaking me for the sit-back-and-get-kidnapped-type.
Swaying behind him, I watch for a straight stretch of road.
This is a bad idea. Possibly my only option, but that doesn’t mean it’s good.
I really need something to choke him with. The only thing I can think of is Skyler’s T-shirt. So I rip it off, twisting the ends around my hands as I silently say a prayer.
Lord, please watch over me as I choke this man to death.
When the double yellow stretches out in front of the van in the headlight beams, I take a deep breath and lunge for him.
He grunts as the T-shirt locks around his throat, knocking the phone out of his hand.
“You cunt!” He sputters as the van drifts to the left. The whole thing sways wildly.
Oh god. This is it! I’m really doing it. I brace both my legs on the seat back and pull with all my might, compressing his neck back against the headrest.
His breathing turns to wheezes. In the mirror, his face is becoming red. Veins bulge on his temples.
I pull harder, using my dancer’s legs with every ounce of muscle I have.
“You pig. You thought you could just take me for ransom!” I snarl, the frustration from the entire night coursing through my veins.
The van careens right as he claws with both hands at the shirt. But I’ve got it so tight, he can’t get his fat fingers beneath the cloth.
His foot must have slipped off of the gas because we’re slowing. I twist the shirt, tightening, pulling more until his wheezing stops all together.
“God,” I pant, “I’m sorry for killing someone. But it’s me or him!”
Sweat is pouring down my neck and my hands are going numb.
“Die!” I scream, fighting with all of my strength to finish the job. The van is slowing more and more, but we’re getting closer to the edge of the road.
I can’t let go. He could revive.
So I hold on and grimace as the van bumps off the road and across the grass shoulder.
Time slows, my heart pounds in my ears. The trees look like a monster’s teeth looming in front of us.
At the last second, I let go of the T-shirt and throw myself down behind the driver’s seat.
The impact launches me into the air. Slams me back down on the floor, knocking the air out of me as everything goes silent except for the hissing radiator.