The Marriage Contract(2)

He laughed, hooking an arm around her waist and hauling her against him. “Then it’s my lucky day twice over.”

Having his big hands on her, restraining her even as he backed toward the bed with the girl she was starting to fear would never wake up, blanked out all her thoughts, her training, her years of holding perfect poise under pressure. Panic clawed its way up her throat, but she bit back the scream and fought him, going for his eyes.

The monster laughed. “You are new.” With one hand, he pushed the woman off the bed, maintaining his hold on Callie with a hand around her neck. He stopped and watched her face, squeezing until black spots danced behind her eyes. Do not black out. Don’t you dare black out. What had she thought she’d accomplish by coming here? Talking? Even if she had the right words to put a stop to this, she couldn’t force them past his fingers digging into her throat. This was all a mistake. A terrible mistake.

He moved, pinning her against the wall, his voice detached as he looked her over. “Kind of skinny, but you got some tits on you.” As if she were a cow he was considering buying.

She kept struggling, because there was nothing else she could do—giving in was not an option. Callie ignored the way he seemed to enjoy it, and kneed him between the legs like her brother had taught her years ago. Brendan cursed, but his grip barely loosened. She tried again, but he blocked her, and tossed her into the wall like she was nothing more than a pile of rags.

She hit the floor, knocking over the table. Pain lanced over her back and every breath was fire through her throat. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the sight of his big feet moving toward her. She pushed away from him, scrambling until her back once again hit the wall.

Then her gaze landed on the gun.

A Desert Eagle, which would have been laughable under any other circumstances. The only men who carried those guns were the ones who had something to prove—they were too big and bulky for everyday use.

But it might just save her life tonight.

She dove for it, snatching it up before Brendan got to her. The safety was so stiff, she had to switch hands to disengage it—a sign he hadn’t shot this thing often. She raised it, fighting to keep the heavy weight from wavering. “Stop.”

Brendan laughed. “What would a pretty little thing like you know about a big ole gun like that? Now put it down before you hurt yourself.”

Hadn’t he seen her switch off the safety? She straightened her arms, knowing full well that she couldn’t hold this position for long. “Just back up and let me leave.” She’d find a way out of the marriage later, when she was back in the safety of her own home. Her family might need an alliance, but she’d find some other way—a way that didn’t involve her spending another second alone with this man.

“I don’t think so.”

He reached for her, already far too close for her to escape, and she pulled the trigger. The gun practically leaped from her hands, but it was too late for Brendan. He hit the bed and went down, thrown back by the impact.

Callie didn’t wait around for someone to hear the gunshot. She used the bottom of her dress to wipe off the gun and then fled, her heart pounding so loud, it was a wonder the entire club didn’t hear it. She stumbled down the stairs and out the back door, mere feet from one of the men who was supposed to be guarding Brendan with his life.

Her thoughts went round and round even as she reached the car she’d parked in the back lot and climbed inside. Oh God, he’s dead. I killed him. I killed someone. But maybe he’s not dead? Maybe I just winged him? She cranked up the heat despite what had earlier felt like a warm July night. Now she couldn’t seem to get warm. Shock. That’s what it is.

She made it out onto the main street before she noticed the blood spatter on her dress. Her chest tried to close up, and she narrowly avoiding crashing the car into a light post as she scrubbed at the fabric. That almost impact jarred her back to herself. “I am Callista goddamn Sheridan. I’m better than this.”

Better than what? Than murdering a man? She could argue self-defense until she was blue in the face, but the truth was that she’d gone to that club with the sole purpose to see Brendan in his natural environment. She’d been the catalyst that caused the confrontation.

Scenes flashed behind her eyes. Brendan’s hands around that poor girl’s neck. The maniacal gleam in his eyes at the thought of doing the same to Callie. The way the girl’s body had hit the floor with a sick thump.

“Enough.” She concentrated on breathing as she made her way across town, the tight muscles along the top of her shoulders loosening just a little as she crossed into Sheridan territory. “What’s done is done. Didn’t Papa teach you that? Now all that’s left is to clean up the mess.” Literally, in this case.