Page 41 of Until Easton

"You're fucking nuts, lady," I spit.

"And you're nothing but a desperate money-grabbing bitch!" Mallory screeches, proceeding to backhand me across my cheek, ripping the skin open with the ring on her finger. "And I'm not crazy!"

Fuck. I stomp my foot. Now I'm really pissed. "Are you serious? You leave creepy letters for Easton everywhere, making him put his life on hold all in the name of love, and you don't classify that as crazy?" I yell. "Oh, and let's add kidnapping and dragging me out in the middle of God knows where." At this point, I'm fully aware that acting recklessly and taunting this woman is dangerous, but I'm beyond caring. "Lady, you are the definition of crazy, and you won't get away with this."

Mallory glares, her eyes like daggers and consumed with evil intent to do harm. "We'll see."

Mallory's phone rings. Keeping the gun aimed at my face, she answers her cell. "Where are you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago." She pauses then, through clenched teeth asks, "Why haven't you been answering my calls?" She's quiet for a second, then her face goes red. "You have got to be kidding!" she yells. "We had a deal. You have your money. I want what was promised." Mallory's lips are thin. "I don't care who Jax Mayson is or where he's been snooping around. I paid for your services, and I expect you to carry out your end of the deal." My stomach tightens with the mention of Jax. "Fuck!" she stomps her foot and shoves her phone into her back pocket. "That son-of-a-bitch!"

Mallory is about to lose what sanity she has left. There's no reasoning with her. I need to act now. It's my only option because the way I see it, either way, I may die, and I won't go without a fight.

Mallory is preoccupied, mumbling to herself, so I take advantage of her distracted state and bring my arm up and down, connecting with her wrist, knocking the weapon from her hand. The gun clatters to the floor. She's stunned, but only for a split second before diving for the gun. I kick the pistol to prevent her from reaching it, and it slides across the living room floor.

Mallory jumps to her feet and tackles me. She slams my body into the back end of the sofa, knocking the air from my lungs. Mallory lands a blow to the side of the head, distorting my vision. She is not much bigger than me, but damn she's strong.

"I'll have to get rid of you myself," Mallory huffs, grabbing a fist full of my hair. She prepares to throw another punch. Just as she pulls her arm back, I bring the heel of my palm up, driving it into her face.

Mallory grunts and stumbles back, crying out in pain. Blood gushes from her nose. Not letting up, I continue to fight back, delivering another blow, this time slamming my knuckles into her eye socket. She falls to her hands and knees. "Fuck you." I kick her in the ribs, then dash across the room. I retrieve the gun from the floor, then turn and run out of the house.

It's pitch-black outside, so dark I can't see my hands in front of my face. I'm swallowed by trees and the vastness that surrounds me, but I keep running.

Suddenly the cloudy sky clears enough for the moonlight to illuminate and navigate me towards a narrow dirt road. Light footsteps closing in from behind press me to run harder. A brutal force tackles me, propelling my body to the ground. "I'm going to kill you—you stupid cunt!" Mallory screams.

Through all of this, I manage to keep possession of the gun. Mallory begins scratching and clawing at my arm. "Give it to me," she seethes, her hand wrapping around mine. I struggle to maintain control of the weapon in my right hand. Bringing my left arm between our bodies, I press my forearm against her neck, then, with forwarding momentum, force her backward.

Before I have the chance to make another move, Mallory reaches for a broken tree limb lying beside her and swings, bringing it down on my wrist. The gun drops from my grasp, and I cry out in pain. "Ahh, fuck!"

Mallory reaches for the weapon, so I bring my foot up to kick the bitch. My boot makes contact against her ribcage. Not hesitating, I get to my feet and take off running again.

"You don't have anywhere to go!" Mallory shouts.

I don't look back and keep pushing.

I've been running for what feels like miles, and my feet are heavy. I won't give up. Not when my grandfather still needs me. Not when I've finally found happiness with the man I want to spend the rest of my life loving. With every step, I become slower but persist. Putting one foot in front of another is becoming increasingly difficult, but my efforts, though wavering, move one more step away from the person trying to kill me. Suddenly, I hear the rumble of a car engine coming up behind me. I look back over my shoulder to a car barreling down the dirt road, with no signs of slowing down. Behind the wheel is Mallory.

The toe of my boot hits a solid object, causing me to trip and fall to my knees. Bits of rock and dirt cut into the flesh of my palms as I attempt to break my fall.

Weak, I struggle to get back on my feet immediately and become blinded by the bright beams of lights.

15

EASTON

It all happens so fast. One minute I'm driving behind Jax, following him to Mallory's last known location, the next, out of the corner of my eye, just as we are slowing, I catch sight of a car racing down a dirt road. Someone within yards of the vehicle’s pathway falls to the ground. My stomach clenches at the person's unmistakable fiery red hair and it causes my breath to catch in my throat. I don't have time to think—only react. I press the gas pedal to the floorboard, and gun it. I swerve my Bronco around Jax's truck, trying to head off the car barreling toward Becca. My wheels squeal as they try to grab hold of the asphalt before hitting the dirt road.

Before impact, my eyes make contact with the driver of the car—Mallory. Then, the front end of my truck collides with her passenger side door. There's an explosion of metal scraping metal and my seat belt locking up, pulling tight across my chest before everything comes to a stop.

My heart is pounding, and adrenaline is coursing through my veins. My neck hurts from the force of the impact, but I ignore the pain and climb from my Bronco. "Becca!" I shout, searching around the wreckage. Several yards away, I spot her lying on the ground, unmoving, and rush toward her. Falling to my knees, I pull her into my arms. She's unconscious. "Come on, open your eyes, baby," I plead, my words getting stuck in my throat when I notice the left side of her hair is soiled with a mixture of dirt and blood. "I'm here, Red." I stroke her cheek. "Wake up," I coax her.

Jax's truck comes to a stop, his headlights shining a light on the wreckage behind me. "The cops are on the way!" he yells on his way toward Mallory's car.

Arthur joins me, kneeling at my side. "Sweet Jesus." He looks at his granddaughter.

Leaning down, I press my lips to Becca's. Emotions roll down my face as I whisper one more time, "I love you, Baby. Wake up." I swallow hard, trying to hold my shit together.

"Easton," Becca softly moans and tries to get up.

"Don't move," I tell her.