Page 101 of Accidental Murder
Kayla didn’t release her grip. She shoved the scissors into his ankle. With the M9 in hand, she rolled onto her back and pulled the trigger. The bullet blasted his ear. He howled. She rolled left onto the weapon to avoid being trapped by his body as he fell.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Troy, scalpel still lodged in his arm, charging.
Kayla freed the M9 and aimed. Not fast enough.
Troy was on her. He kicked the weapon from her grasp and struck her with the toe of his boot.
She lurched to the right to avoid another attack. She scrambled to her feet.
Troy ran at her and swung. She ducked and tugged the scalpel from his arm. He cursed and staunched the wound with his hand.
Kayla knew she had a split-second advantage and didn’t hesitate. She thrust the scalpel at his torso. He dodged the attack. She tried again. He released his wound, batted the scalpel out of her hand, and dove to the floor to retrieve the M9.
No, no, no.
Kayla dashed to a nearby table and seized more scalpels. She flung them, one after another, like darts. The first pierced his thigh. The second missed. The third nailed his arm.
Troy pivoted, his face flushed with fury. Kayla launched the last scalpel. It lodged in Troy’s neck. He lurched backward. His head struck a counter. He slumped to the floor.
Kayla ran to Eve and detached the Velcro straps binding her wrists. “Wake up, pal. I’m getting you out of here.”
Before she could remove the remaining straps, the hydraulic doors opened.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
Kayla sawTaylor Simmons entering the lab empty handed. He must have expected her to be secured to a bed. Stupid on his part.
“What the—” He blurted. “Son of a—” He barreled toward her, arms extended.
Quickly, Kayla scoured the nearby area. She’d used all of the scalpels within her grasp. Both guns lay closer to Simmons. Then she remembered the shock therapy equipment. She lunged for the cart, gripped the electric paddles, flicked a switch, and pivoted.
Simmons lunged at her.
She dove beneath his arms, paddles extended. Made contact with his torso. Pressed the paddle buttons. Nothing. She cursed. The paddles needed to make contact with skin. Crap.
Simmons gripped her neck. Squeezed.
Gasping for breath, she clutched the paddles in one hand and tore at his shirt with the other. A button popped off. Then another. She tugged the material. Hard. She exposed his skin. Reapplied the paddles. Activated them.
Current zoomed into Simmons’s chest. He shuddered. Flopped.
Unrelenting, she zapped him again.
He released her neck and collapsed to the ground, eyes open, eyelids flickering.
With no time to lose, Kayla sprinted to Eve, ripped off the last of the Velcro straps, and removed the other attachments from her head. “C’mon.” She patted her friend’s face, but Eve didn’t rouse. “Wake up! We’ve got to go.”
She froze. Detected movement. To her right.
Simmons had revived. He was inching toward the Glock.
Kayla charged him. Snared his right hand.
He clawed with his other and drew blood.
Kayla yelped but continued to fight to wrest the gun away. Simmons jerked her. Hard. The move propelled her onto her back. She mimicked his move and tugged. He tumbled to the left.
Straddling him, she elbowed his solar plexus and screamed like a banshee.
