He’d be forced to go around the pond, and by then I’d be in the Uber.
Unhesitatingly, I headed to the bridge, gripping the twisted railings and pounding across the boards.
I could hear them cracking as I ran, but I couldn’t turn back now.
A board fell off underneath me, landing with a stodgy plop into the muddy pond.
The boards were rough under my fingers, and I had to grip the railing to keep myself upright.
There was a massive crack behind me, and I couldfeelhim.
He couldn’t make it across! The bridge was literally crumbling underneath me.
I was almost to the other side when my foot suddenly plunged into a hole and I stumbled, grabbing desperately at the railings, but they were cracking under my fingers too, and I was going to be horribly maimed or killed on these rocks. . .
Just as the railing split under my fingers, I felt a hard hand grip the back of my shirt and then I was flying through the air, landing hard on the soggy but safe ground.
And then in another moment the stolen cellphone was plucked from the back of my dress and I heard itplopinto the lake.
My entire front was covered in muck and mud and the next thing I heard was,
“Gabriel Devereaux? Shit, man. What the fuck was that? Bro? I’ve got $775 riding on your first game, so do me a solid and stay in for like more than 16 minutes but less than 19? And can I get your autograph?”
The Uber driver had scrambled out and was digging in the messy front of his car for a pen.
A big hand closed around my mouth as Gabriel dragged me upright.
“My therapist,” he said.
Then he scrawled his autograph all over this dipshit’s face and the driver went away, cackling with excitement.
“Lose this address!” Gabriel called back. “The next car I see that I don’t recognize is going to go missing.”
Then he whirled around and dropped his hand.
I sucked in a huge breath to scream and he spat directly in my open mouth, in a harsh, violent motion, yanking my jaw wider so he could do it again.
I gargled in rage, and he jammed my mouth shut again.
“Swallow.”
I swallowed, his spit going down my throat sweet and wrong as I clenched my fists with rage.
“I’m going to get free and when I do I’ll call the cops.”
It was foolish, but even as I realized that I couldn’t regret it.
Even as his big hand closed around my throat.
“Do it then.”
“Maybe they’ll suspend you.”
His eyes were disturbing, flat dead black pupils staring down at me.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe they’d put you in jail.”
