Redemptive (Combative, #2)(5)

A tiny squeal escaped me when his gun came into view.

“Whoa!” Steven moved in front of me. “I’ll get you the money. Jesus Christ, put that shit away!”

“You got five minutes,” Pauly clipped, his voice even.

Steven grabbed my hand again.

Pauly laughed once, pointing the gun at me. “She stays. Collateral.”

My heart thumped hard against my chest.

“I’m not leaving without her,” Steven said.

Pauly lifted the gun higher.

“Just go,” I told Steven. “Be quick.”

“No. I’m not—”

“Go!” I was pissed. At him. At myself. At the entire goddamn world. “Just go,” I repeated, and made up my mind that I’d rather be on the streets doing everything I could to avoid shit like this. There was no f*cking way I’d be going anywhere with him after this.

Steven turned to me, placing a hand on my shoulder and bending down so we were eye to eye. “I’ll be back.”

I avoided his gaze.

He left.

I stayed.

“Tick tock,” Pauly said.

PJ laughed. “Tick tock, indeed.”

*

“I don’t think he’s coming back.” Pauly laughed, kicking my shoe with his. My chest tightened. Because Pauly was right; Steven wasn’t coming back. And I hated myself for believing him, for putting my trust in a stranger.

I held my bag to my chest, ignoring the mud seeping through my jeans as I sat on the ground, my heart racing.

I was on my eighth round of counting to two hundred.

“Tick tock,” PJ mumbled around his smoke.

“Tick tock,” Pauly repeated, squatting down in front of me.

I held my breath, not wanting them to see, or hear, the fear building inside me.

He raised his gun, inching it closer to my face. “I’m sure a pretty girl like you could find a way to make up his debt.” The cold steel of the gun pressed against my cheek, moving up the side of my face and to my ear as he moved the hair behind it.

I released a breath, my heart pounding.

“Such a pretty girl,” he said slowly, sprays of his foul spit landing on my cheek.

“So pretty,” PJ agreed, stepping toward us.

Pauly placed a hand on my leg, creeping higher and higher.

I pushed my feet off the ground, scooting away from him.

He let out an evil laugh, one that echoed through the still, night air.

His grip on my leg tightened while the hand holding the gun pushed on my other leg, spreading me open for him.

“Get your hands off me,” I seethed, my eyes boring into his.

PJ laughed.

I raised my hands and pushed against Pauly’s chest, but it was useless.

His face came closer. I tried in vain to push him away. “Get off!” I screamed as his body covered mine, pressing my back into the ground.

I kicked my legs wildly trying to get him off me, but my fight was his source of pleasure… his encouragement to keep going. “Get off!”

He kissed my cheek.

I swallowed the puke.

His breath was hot, his voice hoarse. “It’s easier if you don’t fight it.”

I looked up at PJ, pleading with him to help me, but he just smiled, this sinister f*cking smile that made me believe it was over.

Pauly’s rough hand made its way under my clothes and onto the bare skin of my waist.

I almost cried.

Almost.

Everything I’d survived.

Every day I hid.

Every moment I fled.

It was all for nothing.

Pauly’s hand moved down my waist. “Please stop,” I begged, even though I knew he wouldn’t.

“Fuck this is gon’ be good,” Pauly said into my neck. He pressed himself into me, and I almost gave in.

Almost.

But then words spoken earlier between Steven and his brother came to the forefront of my mind.

Don’t let ’em take it.

They were talking about their dad, but to me, it meant so much more.

I sucked in a breath, composing myself.

I had two choices.

Fight or die.

I made the choice.

I fought.

I raised my hips off the ground, attempting to push him away.

“What’d I say, girl?” Pauly said through gritted teeth. “It’ll be easier if you just give yourself to me.”

“Fuck you.” I spat in his face. “I’d rather you kill me!”

He wiped my spit from his face and smiled. “Maybe I will,” he whispered, pressing his gun to my bare stomach. “After I’ve had my fun with you, whore.”

I choked on a gasp.

In my mind, I knew it’d only been minutes, seconds even, since he spoke his first words to me, but the fight felt eternal.

I tried again to kick him off me, but he kept his body over mine, making sure I had no way out. My hand seemed to move on its own to the gun between us. Sweat dripped from his forehead and onto mine as I writhed beneath him. My heart was racing, my hands shaking. “Get. Off. ME!” I screamed louder than I had in years. My throat closed as I saw the evil in his eyes. He lifted off me slightly and popped the button on my jeans, tugging them down past my hips and exposing me to him. Then he pressed the gun firmer into me, his spare hand rising and coming down harshly across my face.