Lost in Salvation

6. Pistol Whipped

Toying with the lines of life and death is a dangerous game and this idiot could no doubt take me out right now if he really wanted to. But then why would he go through all of this trouble? No, I'm calling his bluff.

Kenzo stills for a moment, probably surprised by my answer, but then a tattooed pointer finger curls around the trigger. "One, two-"

I cut his foolish counting off just before he hits three. "That's what I thought."

Moving skillfully and quickly, I bring my right hand up, palm colliding with steel and sending a blast of throbbing pain up my arm. But my effort works, the gun goes to the floorboard with a thump and Kenzo's hand is left bare.

"Damnit!" His fist collides with the side of the divider.

This man definitely likes hitting things.

"You could have been nicer," I shrug, letting a shit eating grin light my face.

"Fuck you, you little bitch!"

"Go cry about it," I chuckle, but sooner than my brain can register, Kenzo leaps from the car, slamming the door behind him and rattling the car with the force.

I still can't see his face, he's obstructed my view with some kind of cloth. But his hand wraps around the door handle, wrenching it open.

I fly backwards, attempting to flee, but the center console stops my movements, slamming into my spine and knocking the air from my lungs. I cough, eyes wide and heart racing as I begin to kick and flail.

Who knows what he could try to get me to comply at this point. I have no idea who this man is, other than the fact that my father trusts him to take me to a safe house, and I'll possibly be living with him. His personality, face, and intentions are unknown to me. Which definitely has my need to get the hell out of dodge on overdrive. I hate the unknown, scares me to my core. My need for the upper hand in most of life's situations has me constantly looking for control. So when I lose that control, all hell breaks loose.

And I've definitely lost enough control for one week.

He catches my foot in the air, just as it attempts to collide with his cheek, but I kick out, using every amount of strength I have to get away.

"Leave me alone!" I have no doubt the receptionists from inside my apartment building are gawking at the sight in front of them.

"Would you just calm down?!" Every word is broken by heavy breaths and sporadic movements.

I continue my assaults, arms and legs flying around like some kind of cracked out bird. My chest rises and falls rapidly and my pulse slams through my ears, breathing choppy. If I wasn't in the confines of this car, I might be a little more precise with my efforts, use some of those well trained techniques.

But I'm in a terrible position right now and all I need to do is survive.

The heel of one of my stilettos finally makes contact, eliciting a harsh groan from Kenzo. He halts his defense tactics, moving to grasp at his stomach. But I use that to my advantage, launching forward and landing a right hook flat on his jawline. He swears when the loud splinter of bone rings out, and for a second, I feel bad for possibly breaking something. Which is stupid because I have no reason to care about this man.

I barely even feel the low rumble of pain that runs through my knuckles as I claw my way through the car.

I can't believe this shit. I was carted off without my consent, told it was for my protection, forced to leave people and things I care about behind, and now, the man my father trusted with my life is actually trying to kidnap me. That was just a joke before, but now, as Kenzo stands still nursing his injury, I know I'm in danger. Everything in my gut tells me so, and if there's one rule of thumb I've learned from leading the life I do, it's to always trust your gut.