Page 126 of Trigger Happy

Shit.

She’s really going to do it. She lifts it up to my face, and I can feel the heat singing the soft hair dusting my cheeks. I clench my jaw to keep from screaming.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” she murmurs. “I’m going to brand every inch of your body, starting with that pretty face, and then—”

She pulls out a hunting knife and jams it into the wood by my face. This time, I do wince. I’ve been trapped by criminals, but never one with a personal vendetta against me.

“Then,” she continues, “I’m going to FedEx your intestines to your parents in a gift-wrapped box, and guess what? I’m not going to expedite them because I want them nice and rotting by the time they open it.”

“That’s quite the visual,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, but it still shakes.

So, this is bad. Very bad. I tug against the cuffs until my wrists bleed, losing all semblance of control. I can’t die while Lawton still hates me. He needs… I need him to…

“Let me out!” I shout.

She snorts. “Of course. I’ll get right on that.”

The panic finally rushes in, and I scream, thrash around, beg for help. I shriek as loud as I can, hoping someone will hear me until my chest is heaving and sweat drips down my forehead.

No one comes.

It’s only me. My eyes prickle. I got so used to having a partner that I forgot how hopeless loneliness could feel.

The barn is starting to spin now. Okay, enough thinking.

She tsks. “You just earned yourself a gag.”

She stuffs my mouth with a cloth, and I know then that I’ll probably die, or at the very least suffer through some really traumatizing pain that will require years of therapy to undo if I make it out alive. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, tears leaking out at the corners.

I really don’t want to die. Not before I’ve had the chance to fix things with Lawton. I’m the one who broke his heart, so I want to be the one to put it back together.

“Please,” I choke out, but it’s muffled around the gag. “Don’t do this. Walker wasn’t who—”

The door to the barn slams open, and sunlight floods in, outlining a massive body.

Lawton.

He’s here.

My stomach sinks and floats all at once. Relief hits me so hard I almost whimper. But then I remember he hates me. He could have planned this with his mom. Maybe this was all his idea. I can’t see his face with the sun behind him, and I wish I could make out his expression.

He steps forward out of the shadow.

Lawton’s wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. His jaw is tense, and his fists are clenched at his sides, ready to pummel anything in their way. I remember what it felt like to have those hands on me, the way they caressed each dip and curve, those eyes that looked at me with such tenderness, it was hard to believe he’d ever committed a crime.

But he’s not looking at me like that now.

No.

His gaze is scorching, burning hotter than the brand, and the veins in his arms are ready for battle. His focus shifts to me, and I can’t read his face. Normally, I’m the one with my emotions on lockdown, but I let every ounce of remorse seep into my expression.

He looks at me, blinks, and then as if I’m nothing more than the mud on his boot, he turns his head to his mother.

And picks up a knife.

Panic claws its way up my throat. I can’t breathe. He’s really going to do it. He’s going to hurt me. I thought after everything that happened…

“Ma,” he says in a low voice, dangerous.