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Walking backward toward the Jetta, I take two careful steps, peering between two cars. A large shape emerges from behind a large SUV and my blood runs cold.
A lion!
Or, more precisely, something that is trying to look like one.
The animal is huge, much bigger than any feline I ever saw at the zoo. The top of its massive, mane-lined head is as tall as a small horse. Its paws are the size of soccer balls and move as silently as if they were walking on air. Round, quicksilver eyes stare at me with intelligence and a sort of wicked pleasure. The creature’s mouth stretches in a macabre smile.
Its slick body comes away from the car, revealing a musculature so massive and perfect it makes me think of a chiseled, marble statue. This is no overgrown lion. Its coat is perfectly white, pure as snow. Nature never made anything so beautiful and flawless.
“Stop or I’ll shoot you.” I shuffle back toward the Jetta and throw the driver side door open.
Certain that Mega Simba understands English, I jerk the gun, hoping he’s at least a little bit afraid of the weapon. A strange, low chuckle sounds in the back of his throat. A cold chill seeps into the depths of my soul. No, he’s not afraid, and his confident, unconcerned air tells me the bullets would do little more than tickle him.
Damn!
My eyes flash toward the inside of the Jetta. I consider how long it would take me to jump inside, key the ignition, start the engine and tear out of here.
Too freakin’ long.
Certainly longer than it would take Mega Simba to bend his hunches and take a leap straight for my throat.
The huge feline takes another step forward just as I hear shouts coming from the walkway. Time is running out. I sharpen my aim to the center of Mega Simba’s head and lock my gaze with his.
Let me go or I have no other alternative but to shoot you, my eyes tell him.
Practically shrugging, he throws his head back. His mane sways ever so slightly. He doesn’t give a flip. Shooting this thing should be easy, after all I’ve been through, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. I clenched my teeth, take a deep breath and, closing my mind to the guilt, pull the trigger. I blink with the loud shot. In the split second my eyes are closed, Mega Simba leaps out of the way and avoids the bullet.
The slapping sound of boots against pavement sharpens my sense into a thin blade. Since killing the beast seems to be out of the realm of possibilities, the car is my only option. Before I overthink things, I leap into the Jetta, fumbling with the key. Mega Simba leaps with me and clamps his jaws around my ankle. I collapse on the driver seat, one leg in, the other one in the beast’s mouth.
I flinch, waiting for the stabbing pain of the animal’s huge canine teeth and the bone-crushing pressure of his bite. When they don’t come, I jerk my leg back in an attempt to release it. Mega Simba gives me a sideways, amused glance.
“What the hell? Let go of me!”
Mega Simba rolls his eyes.
Seriously? What—who—is this creature?
I key the ignition and start the car.
Mega Simba make a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like “uh-uh.”
“There!” a voice shouts.
I look up to find a group of men running in my direction.
“Let. Me. Go!” I pull my free leg back and jam the heel of my boot straight into Mega Simba’s right eye.
The sudden kick catches him by surprise, and he lets me go. Clawing the seats, I scramble inside, shift into reverse and step on the gas. The engine revs and the tires squeal as the car lurches backward. The open door slams against a still-recovering Mega Simba. He staggers sideways until he manages to get out of the way. I go too far and crash into the car behind me. My door slams shut with the lost momentum. Hands shaking, I shift into drive and floor it. The car speeds forward with a loud screech of tires.
I speed down the lane, cars blur by, left and right. I search desperately for the exit sign. When I spot it, I head in that direction without hesitation. My hands are both on the wheel, but I don’t let go of the gun, even if my thumb and forefinger are the only ones engaged. I direct a quick glance to the rearview mirror. Four or five men run behind with no hope of catching up. For an instant, I think I’ve won. Then Mega Simba rushed past them, his strides as long and fast an ostrich on steroids.
Crap!
My eyes snap forward. Ahead, I see the exit. It’s a simple gate with a wooden arm painted in yellow and black stripes. Nothing even the small Jetta can’t break through. I can almost taste the free road beyond.
I’m only about thirty yards from the gate when someone suddenly steps in front of the car. In the split second it takes extra adrenaline to shoot into my veins, I recognize him.
Luke.
He plants himself in the middle of the lane, legs spread apart, arms at his side like some stupidly brave cowboy. I keep my foot on the gas. I’ll call his bluff, and he’ll have to jump out of the way. Our gazes lock. My vision suddenly tunnels and the determination of his features comes into focus. There’s no doubt whatsoever in his expression, no fear. I clench the wheel with white-knuckled strength.
He’ll get out of the way. He will.
I’m certain until, abruptly, I’m not. My certitude flips on a dime and, out of the blue, I just know Luke will not move out of the way. Something, that weird connection we’ve shared since we were kids, lets me see his intentions as plain as day.
I should kill him. I need to kill him.
With every piece of who I am, with all the awful things he’s done to me, with every promise of revenge I’ve made to myself, I should have all the fuel needed to ignite my desire to kill him.
But I don’t. I just don’t.
James asked me to find a worthier reason to live, something other than revenge. I didn’t want to listen, but maybe I should. If this is how my revenge efforts will go, I desperately need to focus my energy on something I’m actually good at.
A loud roar fills my ears at the same time that I slam on the breaks. They lock. The acrid scent of burnt tires fills the air. The Jetta starts to slow down but, in a panic, I realize it won’t stop in time. Sixty to zero won’t come soon enough. I push on the brake harder, thrown my weight back against the seat for more leverage. It makes no difference. Luke is only ten feet away, showing no signs of appreciation for his soon-to-be-over life.
I grind my teeth and growl as if that will make the car stop.
It doesn’t.
Unable to watch, I shut my eyes but, just as I do, the car comes to a sudden stop. My body whiplashes forward. I scream. My gun falls on my lap as I instinctively cross my arms over my face. I slam against the steering wheel. My neck bends violently forward, then back. Pain shoots down my spine, making my legs tingle and go cold.
I groan and throw my head back against the headrest, face contorted in pain. As the sting of the impact subsides, I blink to clear my eyes. My chest pumps up and down with difficulty. It feels as if my bones have crumbled to pieces.
It takes a long moment for my eyes to see straight. When they do, I find Luke still standing in front of the car, a mere couple of feet away. Deep concern etches his face but disappears when he sees I’m not seriously hurt. My thoughts do cartwheels, trying to figure out how I came to stop with such abruptness.
It all becomes blatantly clear when I catch sight of a huge, maned head in the rearview mirror. The creature looks immense, so much more than it did a moment ago. At first, I think I’ve really hurt my head, or my eyes, then I realize he’s standing, his huge paws pressed tightly to the back of the car. That’s when I notice the Jetta is tilting backward.
Mega Simba stopped the car, a giant stepping on a cockroach.
I shake my head and snatch the gun from my lap. My hand trembles as I open the door. I take a huge inhale and throw my feet onto the pavement. My knees wobble like thin blades of grass, but I manage to stand. I push away from the car and make sure I can keep an eye on Luke in the front, and his men and overgrown kitten in the back.
Tauro is among the men and so is Aydan, looking paler than ever. They don’t know he helped me. I hope. I look at all of them with the same level of hatred. It is extremely hard to do when my gaze brushes Aydan’s, but I manage. I hope he doesn’t try anything stupid. We’re outnumbered here. Like a thousand to two, if one counts the feline in terms of muscle mass.
I clear my throat and turn to Luke. “I really, really wish I could’ve obliged you on that death wish of yours. Too bad I haven’t managed to become a murderer . . . yet.”
They all watch me coldly as I squeeze the gun and do mental cartwheels, trying to figure out how I’ll get out of this one.