Eddie merely cackles from the driver’s seat. He’s driving with one hand loose on the steering wheel and the other casually gripping his gun. As if he wants to make it clear he’s not above pulling the trigger a second time.
“Yeah, well… let’s hope you behave yourself, or you might be on the receiving end of that crazy,” he retorts.
Fionn’s phone starts buzzing from inside his leather jacket.
Eddie ignores it at first, but the buzzing only grows louder and more insistent. Whoever’s reaching out to him is going to continue calling, refusing to give up.
With a heavy, inconvenienced sigh, Eddie rolls his eyes and reaches over for Fionn’s phone.
“Fionn can’t come to the phone right now.”
The voice on the other end sounds muffled from where I’m sitting, though I vaguely recognize it as Ronan’s.
A couple seconds later, I’m proven right as Eddie’s cheeks spread in a grin and he says, “No, Uncle Ronan, you don’t understand. Fionn can’t come to the phone right now because he’s dead.”
Ronan’s shouting. I can make out how his voice rises in anger. Probably questioning what the hell Eddie’s talking about.
“I killed him,” he confesses.
Instead of more shouting, Eddie’s confession is met with silence. It seems even Ronan’s thrown by what he’s said.
“But don’t worry,” he says. “I’m still driving your precious wife. She’s coming with me on a detour. So if you want her to make it out alive, I suggest that, for once, uncle, you listen to what the fuckIhave to say.”
“Ronan!” I blurt out from the backseat. “Ronan, we’re on Amsterdam Avenue! We’re… we’re headed north?—”
“That’s enough!” Eddie yells over me. “You wait for further instructions, uncle. Me and my boss will be in touch.”
He hangs up without waiting for an answer from Ronan then glares at me in the mirror. No signs of his cocky grin are to be found; it’s been wiped off his face altogether.
A cold chill racks through me as our gazes meet, and I realize Ronan’s nephew isn’t some harmless twenty-year-old college kid. He’s as ruthless of a gangster as any of the other Callahans.
“What did I say?” he snarls. “What did I tell you about behaving yourself, princess? Yet you’re already being a difficult little brat. You might get away with that with my uncle, but you won’t with me. You got that?”
“Let me out of this car!” I scream. I’ve unclicked my seatbelt and crawled across the seats to the opposite door. My fingers grapple for the door handle and desperately pull and yank at it to no avail.
The doors are locked, and Eddie has no intention of unlocking them anytime soon.
“Hey!” he snaps. “Hey, stop that!”
But I’m operating on adrenaline now. The shock has dissipated from outright desperation. For my will to survive and somehow find a way out of this.
I dive forward, coming up directly behind the driver’s seat, and I do the only thing I can in a situation like this—I sink my nails into Eddie’s face from behind.
“ARGH!” he howls.
The car immediately jerks left then right, narrowly missing a taxicab in the next lane over. Eddie drops Fionn’s phone and clamps both hands on the wheel to correct himself. Difficult to do when I’m gouging at him.
The car swerving makes me slide along with it, but I grit my teeth and slash my nails some more, getting any bit of him I can.
His cheek. His jaw. At one point my nail sinks into his eye, and his loudest yowl yet leaves him.
“YOU FUCKING CRAZY BITCH!”
I’m aware we might crash. I’m aware this could heavily backfire and we’ll end up in a fatal wreck. But it’s better than sitting obediently and letting him drive me to who knows where.
As my nail scrapes against his eyeball, he finally snaps. He slams on the brakes and then twists in the driver’s seat, his balled fist raising up. He punches me in the face, his knuckles slamming into my cheekbone and sending me crashing backward onto the seats.
I’ve never been hit before. Let alone in the face. Let alone by aman.