Page 111 of You Saw the Best In Me

Asher pulls himself up, sitting on my stomach and admiring my breasts. Roughly groping them through my bra and I pretend to moan in pleasure.

“Come here, baby,” I whisper, using a finger to lure him close.

He leans down, and I pull the trigger as his stomach touches mine.

A round going straight into his midsection.

His eyes grow wide. He attempts to grab me, and I fire again. The sound echoing loudly in my ears.

“You fucking bitch,” he chokes, blood coming from his mouth.

“I’ve fucking had enough.”

I push him onto the floor of the car and frantically look for the knife he used to cut my wrists free.

I find it in the passenger seat and climb over his bleeding body to reach it. I cut my ankles free, tuck my weapon into the waistband of my pants, snatch my keys, and flee from the car.

I’m only in a bra and black leggings, but I don’t care. I can’t stop running.

There’s blood all over me, some mine, some his, but when I reach a gas station, I run inside, begging to use a phone.

The lady behind the counter looks at me like I have three heads, and I ask again.

“Please! I was kidnapped. I need to use a phone!” I beg, and she comes from behind the register and hands me her cell.

“Thank you,” I breathe while she locks the store’s door.

I dial frantically, trying to remember Maverick’s phone number. It’s no use, and instead I decide to call the police. Asher won’t be able to drive, and I need them to arrest him.

Once I confirm my identity to three different operators, I hear sirens in the distance. The state police are coming, and I hide in the store until they arrive.

“Where are we?” I ask the lady, and she tells me I’m nearly ten hours away from home.

Fucking Christ.

An officer taps on the door, and we unlock it to let him in.

“Karina Collins?” he asks, and I nod.

“Here,” I hand him my weapon, promising I have a permit in my car.

“This is legally registered in your name?” he gives me a strange look.

“Yes, sir. I shot my kidnapper twice in the stomach with it,” I say, wiping tears from my eyes.

“Okay, let’s get you into my cruiser,” he leads the way, and I thank the gas station employee for her help.

He takes me to my car, where police handcuffed Asher to a stretcher. He’s lost a lot of blood, and they’re taking him to a local hospital.

“Can I get my things?” I ask, and he shakes his head no.

“Please! Just my phone and shirt. I won’t touch anything else,” I beg, and he sympathetically offers to get those things for me.

“Where’s your permit?” he questions, and I instruct him exactly where it is.

I watch as he rummages through my car, finally coming back with my phone.

“You have five minutes. It’s evidence,” he says, and I thank him.