Wicked Honey (18+)

Chapter 17

They locked me in the car. The audacity of those fucking assholes.

Even the driver had gone in with them this time so I was just stuck in here. No way out and no idea how long they'd be inside. Clearly, I should've thought this through a little bit better. I could be asleep in my bed right now. Though I wasn't exactly tired.

I do the only thing I can think to do- pull out my phone and start swiping through Instagram. It was an array of engagements, weddings, and babies. I groan, remembering why I avoided the app in the first place. Everyone my age seemed to be moving forward. Flying through the checkpoints in life like they'd done it a million times. And here I was- hadn't gone on a real date in six months and was suddenly involved with the fucking Sin Sity mob.

I hadn't exactly done real well if you compared me to my old classmates. But to be fair, I never really wanted the same things they did. Not in a normal sense anyways. It wasn't that I was against having a partner or marriage or even kids, I just wasn't ready for settling down yet. I was 27. I wasn't ready to be tied down to a child or to a marriage. I constantly craved something new. Probably not a good quality for a marriage.

I huff and throw my phone on the seat where Grey had been sitting maybe a half hour ago.

This was a stupid mistake. I should've known. They were fine. And I was being_

My thoughts are cut off as a round of shots echo through the air. Then another. It's not loud. It's dull enough that I realize it's coming from inside the club. I look at the entrance- it's hard to see through the dark tinted windows but the line that went halfway down the block just moments ago- was gone.

Another round is fired.

My heart starts to race.

I come up with two things rather quickly. If they're stuck in there, I need to get them out. And if they're dead, then I need to get out of this fucking car before someone finds me. Either way, I needed to get out of this damned car.

I snatch my purse off the floor and dig through it. I don't know why I grabbed it. But I did. My fingers close around my metal nail file. It's one of those multi-purpose sharpened ones that you can use to get dirt out from under your nails and the sides are for filing. I just hope it's sharp enough. And strong enough.

With a shaking breath, I raise the file and slam it down into the plush leather seat to my right. To my luck, it breaks the leather- or pleather. Who knows.

I rake the file in one harsh motion. The fabric rips open further. I toss the file back in my purse and toss it on the ground.

Another three shots are fired inside and without another thought I stuff my hand into the seat. I only have to search for a minute before my fingers brush against something cool. I wrap my fingers around it and pull it out. My fingers are wrapped around the barrel when I pull it out and I have to adjust it in my palm. I pull the magazine open, it takes me a moment to figure out the mechanism but it finally pops open and it's full. I shove it closed and click off the safety. I duck my head and pray that this window isn't bulletproof from the inside or isn't bulletproof period. I have no idea how that works. But I'm just hoping this bullet doesn't ricochet back and kill me.

I close my eyes and pull the trigger.

Glass shatters.

I release the breath caught in my lungs. Still choking on my relief, I use my sleeve to brush away the broken glass. I grab the roof of the car and slip out. My Vans land hard on the sidewalk and I breathe in the night air, gun still in hand.

Thank god I'd decided to put on a pair of jeans last night before I'd ran into the car. Or I'd be running around with no pants.

The street was oddly quiet. And it makes me hesitate. Walking in through the front door seems like a mistake. There had to be a side door. That seemed like a better idea than walking directly into the lions den.