Ten Below Zero(68)

He pushed the knife to my neck. “Don’t try anything stupid,” he warned, pushing the tip of the knife into my flesh. I felt the prick from it slicing my skin. When he pulled the knife back, I saw my blood on its tip. “Just sit in that seat,” he spat. His saliva hit my face and I closed my eyes, swallowing back the vomit that climbed up my throat.

He put the car into gear while I shuddered a breath. I felt the shock sliding from my shoulders, felt it leaving my brain, and then my synapses started firing off. When the shock completely left my body, several minutes had passed, and we were well on our way out of town. He had plans for me, I knew. My brain was now in fight mode.

I didn’t think. I just grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it, swerving the car up onto a curb, jolting me against the door. My head hit the door window and I saw stars, but I forced myself to stay awake.

The man’s eyes bugged out of his head. I couldn’t make their color, but the whites of his eyes were so overwhelmingly dominant beneath the hoodie that fear choked my throat again, right before one of his hands clamped and squeezed that spot itself. He alternated his eyes from the road to me as he settled the car back onto the road and increased his speed. “Are you stupid?” he screamed. His eyes were bulging, like a cartoon nightmare.

I grinded my teeth. I would not die this way. I would not. Vomit threatened again and instead of swallowing it, I turned my head to him and let it go.

The next ten seconds were a blur. The knife cut my face first as he reached blindly for me, the car still speeding. I turned my head so he caught my cheek, felt the blood trickling down my face a second later. I reached for the handle of the door and heard the swish of the knife by my head. The sound it made as it cut the air, desperate to gain purchase on my skin, was terrifying itself.

I swung my arm to block a hit that was aimed for my face, felt the knife cut my arm. I could barely hear a word he yelled over my screaming. I reached blindly, touched skin that didn’t belong to me and dug my nails in. I felt the flesh ripping under my fingertips and vomited again. And then I reached for the door handle behind my back with one hand and pushed it out. Another sob, a sob of relief, fell from my lips as I fell out of the car, hitting the pavement and rolling.

I heard the slam of his breaks. Heard him swearing. And then I heard another noise. A gun shot. Steps running. Tires squealing. A shout. I smelled rubber burning, but my eyes were throbbing, coated in blood and tears; I couldn’t open them. I was in and out of consciousness when I smelled the smoke and coffee. “Fuck.” It was a woman’s voice. “Fuck f*ck f*ck.” I felt her going through my pockets. I made a noise, but everything hurt. Every movement ached. Breathing was exhausting me. I heard her clapping and the sound made me open one eye.

“Mouse.”



I came out of the memory screaming, my hands on my face.

“Shh,” a voice said. I pushed against it, screaming, my hands punching anything they could reach. “Parker,” the voice said.

Everett. I stopped fighting and clung to him. We were sitting on the ground, in the parking lot, so I climbed into his lap, my fingers searching for him. “Everett,” I breathed.

“You’re safe, Parker. You’re safe.” I clung to that while my breathing evened out. Terror still wracked my veins, but I knew what Everett said was true. I was with him. I was safe.

“Do you need us to call an ambulance?” I opened my eyes and looked around. We weren’t alone. There was a small crowd in the parking lot. The voice stepped forward and I recognized it as the hostess.

I buried my head into Everett’s shoulder. “No, we’re fine thank you,” he said.

Embarrassed, I held tighter to Everett, pulling his dress shirt to its breaking point. He lifted my head, forcing me to look at him. “Everyone is watching us,” I said, embarrassment overpowering the terror that was slowly leaving my veins.

“I’m watching you.” He held my face, running his fingers over my cheekbones and my lips. “I’m watching you, always.”

It reminded me of our first dance. He’d said the same thing then. So I concentrated completely on Everett, let the background drop off, out of my vision.

“Let’s go back to the hotel,” he said, dropping a kiss to my forehead. He walked me around to the passenger side of the car, out of view.

“Everett,” I said, my voice slipping. I wrapped my arms around his neck, squeezing him. His arms immediately wrapped around my waist, his lips touched the side of my face. “I remember,” I murmured against his neck.

“I know.” He kissed my temple. “You’re going to be okay.” He held me a minute longer before pulling back. He touched his lips to mine briefly. “Now, it’s time for you to heal,” he whispered against my lips. And then he helped me into the car.

It wasn’t until we were almost to the hotel that I realized I’d hugged him. I’d reached out, for comfort, from him.





My knees were scuffed up from falling on the pavement. Everett sat me on the counter in our hotel bathroom and cleaned them. He kept looking at me from beneath his eyebrows, while he was bent over cleaning my knees.

“I’m sorry about dinner,” I said, wincing with each touch to my knees.

Everett gave me his trademark, ‘don’t be stupid’ look. It was a look filled with impatience. “Do you think I really care about dinner? My dad was so drunk that he was out of his mind anyway.”