Page 97 of The Woman with the Handcuffs

Tears sprang to my eyes, flooding down my cheek before I could even try to blink them away.

“You’re just making this worse for yourself,” Ira said, dropping me back down. I had just enough presence of mind to tuck my chin to my chest so the impact didn’t make the head wound situation any more horrific than it already was.

“Ira, I think I hear someone,” the woman said, glancing back over her shoulder.

Traitorous bitch, I shouted mentally.

My poor father.

Finally took a chance on someone after so many years only to find out she wasn’t loyal to him anymore. If she ever had been.

“Where are the keys?” Ira snarled.

“I don’t—”

The kick came out of nowhere, making me gasp and groan.

“Seriously, Ira…”

“Then go!” Ira shouted.

The woman looked back at me, turned, and ran.

“Give me the fucking keys to the units!”

I curled in tight, trying to block myself from more blows.

But it was right then that I heard what the woman heard: a man and a woman approaching, voices raised, playful. Oblivious.

I didn’t stop to think.

I sucked in a breath and screamed.

Ira straightened, eyes going wide.

“What’s going on?” the man yelled, footsteps inching closer.

Ira had no choice but to turn and run.

“Hey!” the man yelled when he finally came upon me.

“Don’t chase him,” the woman begged.

“Are you okay?” he asked, inching closer to me.

“I’m going to call the police.”

“No!” I yelped, the sound of my own voice slicing through my brain, making my growing headache worsen. “No. I’m okay.”

“You’re bleeding,” the woman said, inching closer.

“I’m okay,” I insisted again, crawling over to the spilled contents of my purse and frantically tossing it all inside.

“Really, I think you need an ambulance,” the man said.

“I’m okay.”

I was so far from okay that my lower lip wouldn’t stop trembling.