6

My situation in the truck has gone from bad to shit. With the blond asshole wielding a knife, my priority has shifted from getting the purse back to getting out of here alive. It seems like the driver wants me gone too, but his asshole associate has other ideas. He lunges the blade towards me.

‘Just get her out of here,’ yells the driver.

‘I’m working on it,’ says the blond asshole as he thrusts the blade at me again, just missing my left cheek.

I struggle, but he’s got one of my wrists in an iron grip and I can’t twist away unless I let go of the purse. I hang on a moment longer, mentally struggling with giving up the purse with the pawn inside for Cabressa. Slam an elbow into the asshole’s ribs. He bellows and swipes the knife at me, the blade scores along my forearm. Warm blood drips into my face.

I let go of the purse and reach into the pocket of my jeans.

The driver’s yelling at the asshole again, but I pay him no mind. I’ve got a plan to get free and clear, I just need to focus. I force myself up from the seat, and in the brief moment before the asshole pulls me down I see we’re approaching an intersection. I don’t have long. Timing is everything.

Shoving my boots against the offside door, I kick it open. As the asshole brings the blade down towards my belly, I yank the pepper spray from my pocket and fire it into his face. I keep spraying until he’s screaming for his momma, then I grab for the purse, get a hold of the shoulder strap and push myself across the backseat.

I leap from the truck as it starts to swing left across the intersection. As I crunch and roll across the sidewalk I think I’ve done it – gotten free and kept the purse. But as I uncurl myself I realise that’s not true. The shoulder strap is still in my hand, sure, but the purse has been severed from the strap by a clean cut.

Hot damn.

I slam my palms against the sidewalk in frustration.

The blue pick-up speeds away.