Innocent as Sin

68

Phoenix

Sunday

Kayla braced herself with a foot against the passenger seat and tried to pull down the T-shirt Rand had given her. The blue cotton proclaimed that “Life Is Good.” Though the soft cloth was smudged with dirt, grease, and blood from her cut lip, and her hands were cuffed behind her, she agreed with the sentiment.

It certainly was better than the alternative.

And she really wanted to live long enough to watch Steve Foley eat the fancy gun he kept shoving in her mouth.

So think of that while you’re trying to seduce the slimy son of a bitch. Maybe then you’ll smile rather than hurling all over his Italian shoes.

She watched Foley through slitted eyes. He was jumpy, sweaty, pumped full of adrenaline.

But his hand never relaxed its grip on the pistol.

If he puts that gun in my mouth again, he’ll be close enough for me to hurt him. Bad.

Much as she’d rather grab the gun and shoot him with it, she knew she’d have a better chance to survive playing scared and eager to please.

It was half true. As long as Foley didn’t figure out which half, she’d have a chance.

Just one.

It had to be enough.