Page 98 of Callow
“We gotta send them a picture or two,” the one with the bad symmetry said. “Show ‘em how far we are willing to go to get in the club.”
“Yeah, def, man. They’re gonna eat this shit up.”
They sounded at least a few yards away.
Reaching up, I peeled the tape off of my face, knowing I needed to be able to scream if nothing else worked.
I only had one direction to go, since they were somewhere at the other side of the bar. And there was nowhere to conceal myself once I stood up.
I just had to be quiet and really fast.
Get to the door.
Get outside.
That was the plan.
So I took my time getting to my feet, making sure I sucked in a few deep breaths, then charging out.
“Hey!” one of them yelled as the sound of glass smashing on the ground filled the space. Not that I was hearing much past the thumping of my pulse in my ears.
“Fucking get her,” the other yelled as I heard footsteps rushing forward.
They came from both sides.
They were going to cut me off before I had a chance to get to the door.
Without another option, I rushed back down the aisle between pool tables, making them backtrack as I put a table between us.
“You’re just gonna make me punish you even harder,” the tattoo one said, shooting an evil smile at me.
I never wanted anything more than to wipe that smile off of his face.
Before I was even aware of what I was doing, I reached up with my bum arm, grabbing a pool ball and just… hauling that thing at him.
I inherited a lot from my mom. My hair, eyes, face, frame, stubbornness, love of all things junk food, and cheesy movies.
One thing I must have gotten from my deadbeat dad, though, was my aim.
My mom couldn’t hit a target from a foot away.
Me? I’d always been able to throw trash in a can from halfway across the room, sink baskets at gym, throw a ball right at the umpire. I was good enough that my gym teachers always asked me to join a sports team.
So I wasn’t exactly surprised when the ball made a sickly satisfyingthwackas it smacked right into the mouth of the tattoo guy.
That smile fell real quick.
But the rage in his eyes had a shiver moving up my spine as I grabbed another ball as I moved around the table.
I tossed it, but he was now a seething, moving target, and I’d only managed to graze his shoulder.
“You’re gonna pay for that, little bitch,” he snarled, blood spitting into the air as he did so.
He lunged across the table, making me shoot backward.
Right into the other guy.
His hands grabbed me as I remembered the knife.