Page 97 of The Pleasure of Panic

And I’m thinking, No, you asshole. My fantasy never involved anything nonconsensual. I won’t apologize for a fantasy. I refuse to buy into the notion that my private fantasy gives them permission to do this to me right now.

I don’t say that. I say this instead. “There is no traffic jam on the extra mile.”

The senator stops fondling me and says, “What?”

“If you aim at nothing you’ll hit it every time.”

Caleb is holding my legs down as Declan cuts the zip ties around my ankles. He doesn’t hear my remarks, he’s too busy picturing what he’ll be doing next. So by the time it registers in his stupid, pea-sized brain, the tension is gone from my ankles, the senator is looking confused, and Declan is standing up at the foot of the bed, folding knife in hand, right next to Caleb.

Your legs are powerful. When someone is on top of you and you don’t want them there, your legs are your best weapon.

The moment that tension releases I kick, thrusting the heel of my foot up, right under Declan’s chin. The force is hard enough to break his jaw and the sickening crack that happens simultaneously coincides with Caleb moving forward to grab my bound arms like he’s about to take control.

Big mistake, asshole.

Because I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire adult life.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - FINN

The second Caleb disappears into the bedroom, I’m on my knees. FBI tip number one—zip-tied hands are useless if you don’t tie their feet too.

And I’m lucky, I guess. Because Declan knows this. If he was the one in charge of me, my ankles would be bound. But he wasn’t. And once I’m on my knees I can get to my feet. And once I’m on my feet it’s over, assholes.

Because there are many ways to break out of zip ties. Both with hands in front and hands in back. Some of them easy enough for children, given enough time alone.

But this method is quick.

Thumbs facing each other, bend over, throw your shoulders wide and—snap!

It doesn’t work the first time, every time. But it does this time. And this time is the only one that matters.

My wrists are burning, the pain in my shoulders searing. But my hands are free.

And that’s when I hear Issy say, “If you aim at nothing you’ll hit it every time.”

Which makes me smile.

I’m down the hall, standing in the doorway, watching as the tiny woman—this little control freak, this crazy cute demon, this woman who feels like my soulmate in a small package—breaks Declan’s jaw with a heel to his chin.

Her aim is true and she hits it hard.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX - ISSY

My other knee is already pressed into Caleb’s stomach, giving me enough time to reposition leg number one as I squirm, bring it in underneath his chest, and kick him back so hard, he knocks Declan backwards into the wall.

I wish my students were here. Because right now I feel like a Goddamned role model.

A shadow off to my left makes me look. Finn is standing in the doorway, blood dripping off his wrists where he just broke free of his zip ties.

And that one stupid second is enough time for the senator to pull out a gun from inside his jacket and point it at me.

“Don’t move,” he snarls, backing up so he can target me, but still keep Finn in view. “I’ll fucking shoot her if you move.”

And you know what I say back? Still lying there on that bed? My shirt all rumpled from where his disgusting sweaty hands were feeling me up just two seconds ago?

I say, “Go fuck yourself.”

Without the asterisk.