Rock Chick Rescue (Rock Chick, #2)

Then I grabbed Blanca’s keys that were on the countertop and hightailed it out the backdoor.

Blanca parked in the back drive, next to the garage. I saw her do it when she came back with the groceries. She drove a silver Honda Accord, it was newish and it was nice and I real y hoped she didn’t mind me stealing it. I hoped more that I’d be alive to find out.

The 7-Eleven on Louisiana and Pearl was less than a five minute drive away but I stil made it in record time.

I pul ed in, there were a bunch of cars in the parking lot and I saw one at the end with people sitting in it, Lottie’s blonde hair visible.

I got out, pocketed the keys and walked to it.

Vince got out too, dragging Lottie across the driver’s seat with him. She was pale and trembling visibly, eyes wide, hands obviously cuffed or tied behind her back.

“Jet, you shouldn’t…” she started.

I was within reaching distance. Lottie was shoved forward before she could finish. My arm was grabbed and I was pushed into the car through the driver’s side. This al happened in seconds, I didn’t even make a noise.

I could see Lottie was on her knees and struggling to get up without the use of her arms. Vince had the car idling and we rocketed out of the 7-Eleven parking lot so fast, he narrowly missed her.

He drove like a crazy man and I held on for dear life but stil had my head together enough to check and see if I could open the door and throw myself out of the car. I didn’t figure it would kil me, it would hurt but would leave less mental scars than what Vince had planned.

There was no handle and no lock.

Wonderful.

I could throw myself at him, force an accident, but I wasn’t buckled in and an accident, at the speed he was driving, might kil me so that idea was out the window.

I decided to try to talk my way out of it.

“Vince…”

That’s al I got out. He whacked me with the back of his hand against my mouth and I immediately tasted blood.

Guess talking was out too.

I decided to wait for my opportunity. There had to be one, there just had to.

I hung onto that thought as he drove.



*

He took me somewhere I’d never been, no reason to be there and I hoped I’d never have the choice of whether or not to go back (I’d pick not). We went underneath the mousetrap interchanges, a mass of highway above us, nothing around us but hardscrabble cement and litter, likely left by homeless people and drug addicts none of whom were in attendance for the evening’s festivities.



Vince stopped, pul ed me out of the car through the driver’s side and before I could struggle or break away, he yanked a gun out of the waistband of his pants.

Then he put it to my head.

“Been lookin’ forward to this for a long time,” he said as he walked me forward, “Undo your jeans.”

I was getting a little fidgety.

My opportunity wasn’t arising and I was beginning to get scared.

Therefore, I hesitated.

He took the gun away from my head and squeezed off a round.

I jumped, thinking he’d shot me but realized he’d fired away from me.

He put the gun back to my head.

“Undo your fuckin’ jeans.”

I did what I was told. Maybe death before defilement was the way to go but I couldn’t think at that moment.

The minute I unbuckled my belt and slid the zip down my jeans, he whipped me around and forced my torso to the hood of the car. He pressed his crotch into my behind, the rest of his body against my back and the gun against my temple.

“Gonna fuck you against the car, then I’l do you doggie style,” he said into my ear.

My heart was racing, my breath coming in jerks and my mind was absolutely blank.

He wasn’t done.

“Then, got me a bottle and I’m gonna fuck you with that too, break it and fuck you with it. Hard. Tear you apart. The next time your wetback boyfriend puts his dick in you, you’l fuckin’ scream.”

It was then I decided death before defilement was the way to go.

“First, you gotta beg,” he said.

He tried to pul down my jeans. Problem was, it wasn’t easy with one hand pointing a gun to my head and my body bent at the hips.

“Beg, bitch!” he demanded.

Real y.

Enough was enough.

“Fuck you!” I shouted and then did a backwards head butt, catching him somewhere pointy and I hoped it hurt because, for me it hurt like hel .

I lifted up, taking him with me.

He tried to force me back and I started to go with him but I got turned a bit and was wedged sideways against him and the car.

I struggled, managed to slide around front-to-front and got my hand on the gun.

Both our hands scrabbling for control of the gun, I put my ass on the car, forced my knees up, put my feet to his bel y and pushed.

He went flying and I came off the car and jumped on top of him before he could recover.

Kristen Ashley's books