SUNDAY, 10:45 A.M.
Leslie’s hand shook as she stared down the barrel.
Kelly Popour sat at the table, arms shackled at the biceps, effectively holding her in place. She pleaded, “Don’t, Leslie, don’t!”
But Leslie didn’t have a choice. Not if she wanted to live. Her heart shuddered as she looked to the left. To the person who’d brought this nightmare down on them.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why?”
An insane giggle reached her and she knew her life would never be the same. If she even had a life after tonight.
“It’s your turn, Leslie,” the voice singsonged. “You lost the hand.”
Leslie looked at the cards scattered across the table. Nausea welled up, gagging her. The bullet in her shoulder caused it to burn like someone had touched a blowtorch to it.
She couldn’t do it. She simply couldn’t. Her mind scrambled for a plan, a way to escape. And the only way to do that was to end the life of the person who’d snatched her from her home two days ago.
But she couldn’t turn the gun on her captor either. The steel bar attached to the table ensured the gun would point in only one direction.
Toward her best friend, Kelly.
And Leslie had been warned. If she didn’t pull the trigger, she would die.
The only way to live was to pull the trigger. “God! Help me!”
Her finger tightened and Kelly flinched, screaming as she ducked her head into her shoulder. “Don’t! Don’t!” The shackles kept Kelly bound to her chair.
Leslie felt the bite of her handcuffs. The ones around her ankle, binding her to her own steel chair that had been bolted to the floor. No shackles this time. The shooter didn’t have shackles.
A sharp pain sliced through her shoulder, and her arm convulsed.
“Do it, Leslie. Kelly pulled the trigger on you, didn’t she? What’s keeping you from doing the same?”
She couldn’t do it. Glancing at the one who was now in control of whether she lived or died, Leslie suddenly knew without a doubt she wasn’t going to live much longer.
With a deep breath, she set her jaw, determination sliding through to push the terror aside a fraction. If she was going to die, she wouldn’t die a murderer.
She dropped her arms, heard the gun clatter to the table as the steel bar fell over. “I won’t do it.”
She felt something slam into her forehead and knew no more.