“No.”

“Fine. My throat is dry. I’m sure that will sound great when I’m trying to read those cards and clearing my throat two dozen times.”

“Drink the damn water. Just don’t spill it on your outfit.”

She glanced down at the button-up white top. The neckline rose to her throat and it had long sleeves to her wrists. The black shapeless skirt fell almost to her ankles. It reminded her of something a schoolteacher from the early nineteen hundreds would have worn. “God forbid. Does your grandma want it returned to her?”

“Shut the f**k up.”

She faked a cough, turned in the seat and stealthily removed the hairspray. She twisted the cap to loosen it and wedged the small bottle between the seats to make sure it was hidden. The belt buckle for the seatbelt stuck out and she hoped it blocked his view when she leaned forward toward the bar.

“Water,” he reminded her.

“I heard,” she muttered.

She took a bottled water and twisted the lid. It wasn’t a lie that her throat was dry. She took a couple of sips, glancing out the windows. They’d left Gregory’s property and were driving through a neighborhood of upscale homes. In less than a block they’d hit a bunch of shops and restaurants. The freeway would be after that. It was soon or never. She took another sip, sat back and dug down the side of her skirt since her hip faced away from him. She removed the eyeliner and used her thumb to flip off the plastic cap.

The limousine made a turn and she spotted the first shops. They lined the streets close together and would continue for two blocks to the onramp to the freeway. Traffic slowed the car to a crawl. She watched Bruce from the corner of her eye. He appeared relaxed. She glanced at her water and just let it go. The plastic bottle hit the floor and water poured out.

“Whoops.”

“Son of a bitch!” he yelled. “Grab it.”

She refused. “You.”

He lurched forward and almost fell out of the seat. She twisted the lid off the hairspray. The back of his neck was exposed as he picked up the plastic bottle, cursing about the water all over the carpet in the expensive limousine. She fisted the eyeliner pencil with her right hand and grabbed the hairspray in her left.

Fear and anger drove her to stab him with the pencil. Part of it dug into his skin before it broke. He roared out in pain and grabbed at his injured neck, falling all the way out of his seat. He turned his head, pure rage twisting his features. She shoved the hairspray at him and frantically dumped all of it. The liquid poured over his eyes and he tried to jerk away, squeezing them shut.

“You f**king bitch! I’m going to kill you.” He blindly fumbled at his suit with one hand, while wiping his eyes with the other.

Vanni stood, bent and grabbed one of the almost-full glass bottles of booze. The fact that Bruce had nearly tugged his gun out of the holster motivated her to swing the glass as hard as she could. It smashed over his head. He grunted and the loud sound of the gun going off at close range almost deafened her.

He slumped and the driver applied the brakes. She stared down at the motionless man, shocked. Blood spread along his thigh where the bullet had embedded. He’d shot himself. Horns honked and she looked out the windows. They were holding up traffic. The limo driver suddenly punched the gas, almost knocking Vanni on top of Bruce, who was sprawled at her feet.

She managed to use the bar in front of her and the ceiling to keep upright. The driver seemed to be looking for a place to park as the limo slowed. Vanni dropped to her knees, landing on Bruce’s hand. She dug into his jacket, avoiding the gun. She found the cell phone he’d used to torment her about Beth. As an afterthought, she bent a little over him and dug his wallet out of his pocket. She crawled to the door.

The second the limousine stopped, she shoved the door open, happy it wasn’t locked. She stumbled out and was almost hit by a car. The driver honked his horn as he slammed on the brakes, screaming obscenities.

She ran toward the sidewalk in the opposite direction of the limo so the driver couldn’t rush after her. He might throw it in reverse to give chase but he’d hit the man she’d just pissed since his car was in the way.

People stared as she ran. She turned her head when more horns blared. The limo driver was out of the car and she heard yelling. She faced forward, barely managed to avoid slamming into a pedestrian, and turned into one of the alleys between the buildings. She kept going until she glimpsed a dumpster.

It was a good place to hide so she got behind it. She was out of breath from her mad dash and leaned against the brick wall as she studied the cell phone. Please don’t be password protected! She tapped the button and the screen lit up. She hit the phone icon and the Woods Church number displayed. She tapped again for the keypad and it opened. Her finger trembled while she dialed home.

It rang four times until the machine picked up. God, please be home! It played the automated message and beeped.

“Beth! Pick up the phone. Now, damn it.”

“Vanni?”

She’d never been so relieved to hear her friend’s voice. “Listen to me. You’re in danger. Gregory has a man on his way to our apartment. He’s going to kill you. Dial 9-1-1 and wait for the police. Get out when they get there!”

“What?”

“We don’t have time for this shit. Grab your cell and dial 9-1-1. Do it!”

“Okay. What is going on?”

“They kept me locked up. They are going to kill you. I escaped so that man is going to go after you. When the cops get there, you go stay with that guy who loves Elvis. Don’t say his name. You know who I mean.”