Page 109 of Make or Break

That sealed it. Duane was definitely not all there.

If it weren’t for Lucinda being here, I’d have fought back more, but I couldn’t do anything that put her in jeopardy. The whole reason she cleaned the bar was to earn money to help her daughter. Child support wasn’t being paid, and it often took lawyers to get back payments, which meant legal fees…and plenty of single moms didn’t have the cake for that.

Duane came closer. He dragged the butcher knife along my shoulder, across my collar bones, to the other shoulder. My skin stung, and I realized he’d cut me, but it felt thin and shallow.

Lucinda whimpered again, louder than before.

“Whores like you never listen,” Duane said.

Something warm rolled down the slope of my chest. The cut must have been deeper than I realized because I lowered my chin and saw a fat droplet of blood headed toward my cleavage. I didn’t want to engage, but with a sharp knife in play, I figured keeping the conversation going was my best stall tactic. “I always listen to you, Duane.”

He made a tsk sound. “No, you didn’t. I told you not getting kissed on New Year’s was bad luck. But you didn’t listen. Look at you now. You’ll have to absolve your sins.”

My mouth ran away from me. “And how will I do that?”

“My ol’ lady said there’s only one true way to get clean. You gotta burn.”

I stared into Duane’s brown eyes, but something red sitting on the small counter caught my eye. It was a gas canister.

“But first you’re gonna bleed,” he said, lunging at me and plunging the knife under my ribcage.

Excruciating pain burned through my abdomen, and I grabbed his arm.

Lucinda’s whimper was much louder, like her gag had come free, but then I realized that sound came from me.

It wasn’t likely I’d get out of this, but I couldn’t let Lucinda suffer, too.

“Duane, let Lucinda go. Please. She has nothing to do with this. I’m begging you. She’s clean as can be. Let her get back to her daughter and grandbabies,”

His eyes danced over me, his excitement clear. He opened his mouth as though he was going to speak, but he drew in a deep breath. Then he pulled free of my grip only to stab me again an inch lower.

Chapter 26

Clean as Can Be

Tundra

It’d been a long damn time since I ran at a full sprint. My shins burned, I had a stitch in my side, but I kept up with Nickel. I was doing my damnedest not to panic, but my every instinct screamed this situation was bad.

We slowed at a cluster of palmetto bushes as we approached the fifth wheel. I couldn’t help but notice a grouping of six gas canisters.

“What the fuck?” I hissed.

“What?” Nickel asked in a low voice.

I tipped my head toward the red tanks. “You tow a fifth wheel, and even if there’s a gas range in there, it’s propane, not gasoline. Who needs half a dozen gas canisters? Especially when there aren’t any dirt bikes around.”

“Shit,” Nickel bit out.

He started to charge forward. I grabbed his bicep. “We can’t barge in there, man. Not if he’s doused the place already. Most drinkers smoke. I wasn’t around enough to know—”

“He didn’t smoke - at least not at On a Lark. And gunfire—”

“Could spark a blaze, too,” I said.

Ricochet and Gamble caught up to us. Gamble spread his hands out in a questioning gesture. Nickel pointed at the gas cans.

After a beat, Gamble gave a long blink.