No fucking way.
So I planted my foot on the wall and threw my body into his. He loosened his grip long enough for me to elbow him in the face.
My jailer let out a deep growl.
I elbowed him again, this time even harder. No one was getting in the way of my freedom.
Not even this fucker.
I made it up a few steps before he grabbed me from behind. Keeping a firm grip on the railing, I kicked him in the dick hard enough to knock him down the stairs.
He groaned when he hit the bottom landing. "You're going to pay for that, bitch."
No, I'm not.
I raced through the door, the man now climbing the stairs behind me. It was so bright upstairs that my eyes hurt from the sudden adjustment. I was like a vampire rising from a coffin in the middle of the day.
The home had a Tuscan vibe, various shades of white and creams, tastefully decorated with modern art. Classy but nothing special. This didn't feel like the home of a sleazeball like Johnny Zabatino. I expected a brothel.
When the man caught up to me again, he yanked on my long hair. I fell backward into his chest, kicking and punching. We dropped to the ground, and my elbow whacked him in the face.
He grunted.
I had the upper hand for a moment and got on top, pinning him to the floor, punching his face with everything I had.
Fuck, my knuckles hurt.
But I had to keep going.
It wasn't easy to land punches, not with him trying to throw me off him. His hand slipped beneath his suit jacket, and he pulled out a gun.
I reached for the weapon, and a struggle ensued. He was so much bigger than me that his body felt like weights on top of me. I wrapped my legs around his neck when he rolled onto his side. I squeezed so hard his face turned red.
His grip on the gun loosened.
I took it from his hand, unsure about using it. I'd never even held a gun before, and it was much heavier than I had expected.
I got on my knees.
Aimed it at his face.
Pulled the trigger.
And nothing.
Jammed.
I kept trying to shoot.
He clamped his thick arms around me. The asshole wrestled me for the gun, the two of us tumbling across the marble floor. I smacked him with the butt of the weapon.
His weight slowed him down, so I used this to my advantage, even though he was trying to crush me. But I could roll out from under him because I was so much smaller.
I heard footsteps tapping the floor from a distance and panicked. I had to get away from him before the next person tried to capture me. So I hit him with the gun again, and he dropped to the floor, blood dripping from his forehead.
He was down for now, so I got on top of him and bashed his skull with the gun. My arms and hands fucking ached, the pain intensifying with each whack. Blood splashed across my face and got into my eyes.
I closed my mouth and continued to hit him until the footsteps halted in front of me. Four sets of shiny, black dress shoes.
