“I know.” Jenna swallowed down the lump of emotion in her throat. “I know whatever happened to Steph isn’t my fault. I’m just”—her arms shook with tension as she tried to contain the volatile feelings inside—“I’m soangryat them!”
Lynnette bobbed her head. “Perfectly reasonable. If assaulting a police officer wasn’t actually against the law, I’d have put that smug prick on his ass in his own lobby.”
Jenna barked out a laugh. “That would have beensosatisfying to see!”
She almost missed the movement of another car swinging into the lot on the far side, and she didn’t see the second car that had come in from the opposite entrance until it had angled to a stop. Both pulled up at forward-facing angles that effectively blocked either Jenna or Lynnette from easily moving their vehicles.
The women had parked off to a side of the lot; there was plenty of space for more vehicles. The only reason for the newcomers to do what they’d done was if they were deliberately coming for them.
Lynnette pushed to her feet and walked up to lean over the roof of her truck as doors popped open from both new arrivals.“Hey,” Lynnette called, “what’s the big idea, blocking us in? We’re not bothering anyone.”
Unease twisted Jenna’s gut and she made sure to keep her phone out of sight even as she turned in place to see what was happening.
Four men in total stood across from them. Tattoos covered their darker skin almost everywhere Jenna could see, her gaze snagging on particularly distinct lettering that curved around the neck of the driver blocking her own car. She could make out what looked like three letters—V, E, and R—as well the leg of another that continued past the R. She supposed those could also not be the beginning of whatever word he’d branded himself with. Not that such a detail mattered.
The man with the neck tattoo that had caught Jenna’s eye raised his chin and, in clear but accented English, he said, “PJ sends his regards.”
Chapter fifteen
Desperate
Jenna had enough timeto wonder who in the hell “PJ” was before she realized that the group of concerning males was swarming the truck—and they all had something sharp in their hands. “Shit!” She scurried backward, instinctively pulling her feet up and reaching for the tailgate as if securing the open bed of the truck would protect either one of them.
Keys landed in her lap before she registered Lynnette’s movement. “As soon as you get the chance, get behind the wheel and force your way through.”
Jenna’s mouth dropped open, but Lynnette had already launched herself over the side of the truck. “Lynnette!”
Male snickering and something that sounded like a taunt, but was spoken in Spanish, carried to Jenna’s ears as she watched three of the men circle her best friend. There was a good amount of space between her SUV and Lynnette’s truck, and all of that room gave them plenty of space to maneuver.
Jenna gathered the keys in her free hand and used her other thumb to swipe through her contacts. She had no idea what to do. She barely knew how to make a fist, let alone fight off armed assailants, and she wasn’t about to abandon the friend she was responsible for putting in danger. But she was also well aware she couldn’t call the authorities for help. She’d be laughed right off the line. That really only left her one option, as much as she hated to do it.
“Put the phone down, bitch,” a male voice snarled from behind her even as the line began to ring.
Jenna froze.
Someone else, in Lynnette’s direction, let out a grunt of discomfort.
Tattooed skin stretched over darkly inked fingers extended into her line of sight. Those fingers curled around the handle of a wicked-looking hunting knife, which she only caught a glimpse of as the arm in her periphery wound around her shoulders and the blade was brought to her throat. At her opposite ear, the voice spoke again, each exhaled syllable washing over her with the aftertaste of tobacco. “I said put. The fucking phone.Down.”
Jenna drew as shallow a breath as she could, trying not to gag on the stench of his breath. “O-okay,” she said. She pulled the phone carefully from her ear, angling it away as naturally as shecould and simultaneously moving her thumb over the screen as she normally would to disconnect a call. She stretched out her arm and lowered the device to the floor of the truck.
“Now push it away.”
Jenna swallowed hard, resisting the urge to nod, and gave the phone a shove. “Okay,” she said again. “I can’t reach it anymore. Please … please don’t hurt us. I don’t know anyone named PJ, maybe you have us confused—”
“Shut up.” He pressed the blade tighter to her throat. “PJ knows you, bitch. That’s all that matters.”
No, it really is not.But she had a feeling arguing that sort of detail would get her killed much faster, so she kept the thought to herself.
The truck rocked as someone slammed into it, and Jenna felt the tip of the blade bite into her throat when her assailant tightened his grip. Beyond her vantage, another male shouted something in Spanish that carried an urgent tone. Jenna thought she heard the sound of a weapon clattering to the ground.
Emboldened and more than a little desperate, Jenna threaded her fingers through the keys Lynnette had tossed her and threw an awkward, backwards punch up at the face still hovering over her shoulder. She moved as fast as she was able in an effort to make up for her skill, but she was still surprised—and a little mortified—when the keys made contact with his face and blood arched through the air in her peripheral vision.
“Fuck!” He jerked back, the blade tearing a bit more at her neck as it came away. He kept spewing what she was sure were curses, but she didn’t know a whole lot of Spanish and in the moment, she suspected that was for the best.
Jenna threw herself forward, away from her attacker as well as away from the fight still going on beside the truck. She snatched up her phone as she scrambled quickly over the tailgate she’d oh-so-helpfully closed as her attacker lunged for her. She letout a cry as she hit the ground—half in pain from the awkward impact and half in startled fear at the knife that had nearly gone through her hand—but managed not to drop anything.
“Goddamn bitch!” he roared, the words not quite as clear as before. Blood covered nearly a quarter of his face. There was a jagged, nasty tear in the flesh of his cheek just past his lip that stretched to within an inch of his eye.
