There were a shit-ton of buildings, most of them looking either abandoned, under construction, or simply closed down for the night.
Did we hide? Take the chance that he would look in each of the buildings? Or, worse yet, just shoot indiscriminately into them?
“Fuck,” I hissed when a shot rang out, landing in a sign to our side.
Without thinking, I pulled Steph with me down a cross street, then a small alley between buildings.
“Down,” I demanded when we ran up to a dumpster. “Whatever you do, don’t get up.”
“Your… gun?” she panted.
I wasn’t about to tell her that I didn’t have it, that I had my fists and scrappy street-fighting skills and nothing else.
“Venezio—” she whispered, trying to grab the edge of my shirt.
“Don’t move,” I demanded.
“No,” she whisper-yelled at me. Then, in a smaller voice, “Don’t leave me.”
Fuck.
Those words nearly cut me off at the knees.
But I forced myself to move away, breaking into a run toward the end of the alley, then cutting up the next one.
My shoes crunched on salted pavement. I wasn’t trying to be quiet. I was trying to lead the fucker away from Steph.
I saw the puffs of the guy’s breath in the air.
He was coming.
I had to be faster.
Because if I was stupid, if I got taken out, there was nothing and no one standing between him and Stephanie.
True, she was innocent.
And he couldn’t use her against me if I was dead.
But some men were sick. And they just wanted to hurt women as punishment.
I couldn’t let that happen.
I ran forward, arms already out, and slammed full force into the bastard just as he broke into the mouth of the alley.
We both flew to the ground.
I landed hard on my shoulder, the pain sparking up my neck and down my arm.
But there was no time to focus on that.
I scrambled up onto all fours and faced the guy.
Only to find an unfamiliar face with wide, panicked eyes.
“The fuck, man?”
“Where’d he go?” I growled, grabbing the guy and dragging him to his feet. “Where the fuck did he go?”
