“Let me go.” I shoved back and tried not to impale myself on the blade. “I have to see if he’s okay. Let me go.” I freaked out, trying to see around the truck. More pain lashed through my neck.
Pucci pulled me around the truck and shoved me inside, grabbing the money bags and tossing them in the back. He jumped in and started the engine. I scrambled for the other door, but he manacled my hair and yanked my head to the steering wheel as he punched the gas and the truck lurched forward. My forehead hit the steering wheel, and agony exploded throughout my skull.
The truck bumped over rocks, and my body fell to the floor while he kept ahold of my hair with his hand on the steering wheel, so I was half on the seat and half off. My temple was attached to the damn steering wheel, and there was nothing I could do to get him to release me. My ribs protested, and my breathing was so off I could barely concentrate. The gunfire kept going outside.
Was Aiden dead? I hadn’t seen any blood, but he’d fallen so fast I hadn’t seen anything. Who was fighting out there? Was it the police or a rival gang or something? “Let me go, Pucci.”
“Shut up.” He punched the gas. Hard.
I gasped in air as tears flowed down my face.Think. Breathe and think.Angling my shoulder into the radio and pressing my knees against the floor, I twisted and punched him right in the groin. My hand glanced off.
He smacked me on top of the head with his free hand.
Agony shot from my head right down my spine, and I screamed. Then I struggled, panicking, hitting him with the hand that could reach him. He hit me again, and everything went dark. I fought to stay conscious.
“Stay still,” he said. “Or I will shoot you.” His words came from very far away.
The truck bumped and jerked, and water splashed inside his open window. He turned and drove down the shallow river, each river rock making him tighten his hand on the steering wheel as well as my hair. My whole head screamed in pain at this point. Bile burbled in my stomach and tickled up my throat, burning me. I blinked away tears and tried to clear my vision. In that position, I could see the bottom of his jeans and his boots.
I reached up and tried to pry his fingers out of my hair. He tightened his hold.
We went over a small embankment and both bounced. I flew up and then back down, more agony ripping through my skull.
The side of my face landed on the steering wheel this time. I whimpered and went limp, trying to stay alive.
“That’s better. Just hold on.” He turned the steering wheel, wrenching my neck, and we bounded over something hard, sending us flying again. Then we were clumping along a very rough area, but no more water splashed inside. Were we on the other side of the river? He swore and viciously twisted the wheel, nearly pulling my hair out. I bit my lip against the incredible pain. “Let me go, you asshole.”
“I swear to God I am going to shoot you. Hold still,” he barked.
Branches scraped the side of the truck, and we drove up and then down, then up and the truck bottomed out with a loud protest. Something scraped against the bottom of the vehicle, and we bottomed out again. If he didn’t stop, maybe the truck would just break or flood.
My right arm fell to the floor on his foot. I looked at the brake. If I pushed on it, he’d just shatter my hand with his boot. I scrambled to get balance, my hand sliding beneath the seat. Something smushy was down there, but nothing that would help me balance.
He turned again, and water splashed through the passenger side window and spread across the seat. Were we back on the river? He twisted and my head twisted with him, once again putting me in a position to be looking at his boots.
A thought hit me out of the blue.
I bunched my shoulders.
When he turned again, I fell slightly, reaching for his ankle. My fingers touched metal. Going purely on instinct, I pulled the small handgun out of his ankle holster. I was unable to turn to face him, so I aimed at his driving foot and fired. Blood blew out of the hole in the leather.
The explosion in the small space was deafening, and I already couldn’t hear. My ears rang and my skin stung.
He yelled and turned the steering wheel, crashing into something. We rocked back and forth, and I fell more fully onto the floor. “You bitch.” He released me and shoved me away, kicking the gun out of my hand with his injured foot. The weapon fell to the floor and clattered beneath the brake pedal.
I fumbled to grab for it when he opened his door and ripped me out of the truck by my hair to throw me. I landed on the riverbank on my stomach and quickly turned over, crab walking backward up rough rocks.
Blood flowed from the top of Pucci’s boot. Fury covered his face along with lines of pain. He limped toward me and drew another gun out of his pocket to point right at me. “I can’t believe you fucking shot me.” He kept coming as if in a trance, his body jerky and his once handsome face ravaged by darkness.
I tried to scramble farther away, but the rocks stopped me. “Don’t shoot.” There wasn’t anything else to say.
“Oh, too late.” He lifted the gun higher and pointed the barrel right between my eyes.
I hunched over myself and tried to protect my head.
A loud gunshot echoed through the night.
Chapter 36
