I realized I hadn’t backed into a wall.
But a man.
His arm snapped around my waist, roughly yanking me all the way against his body. I started to squeal, but the feeling of icy cold metal against the side of my head had me biting off any sound.
He had a gun. He was holding it to my head.
I was literally seconds away from a bullet plowing into my brain and ending my life.
Forever.
My eyes, already leaking tears, found Max where he stood at the street, his arm in the air. I wasn’t ready to die.
“Give me your purse,” the man demanded in my ear.
I whimpered and held it out.
Another man appeared in front of me. He too was holding a gun… He was also wearing a black ski mask.
He snatched the bag out of my hand, and over his shoulder, I saw Max begin to turn.
“Max, run!” I screamed, risking getting shot to warn him. As I yelled, I forced my body to go slack. The man holding the gun to my head cursed and grappled to hold on to my body as I dropped toward the ground.
I heard a shout and the pounding of feet, but I didn’t see what was happening because the gunman grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked me back. He pulled so hard black spots appeared before my eyes. I cried out, unable to keep the sound of pain inside.
He jerked me so hard it kept me from hitting the ground. Instead, my knees hit the pavement, scraping over the rough concrete. As I knelt there, completely at his mercy, he forced the gun up under my chin, stabbing the delicate flesh on the underside.
“Come any closer and she’ll be dead before you blink,” the voice above me cautioned.
I forced my watering eyes open to focus on Max, who was standing just a couple feet away with a gun pointed directly at his chest by gunman number two. Instead of rifling through my purse, he was holding it like he didn’t even care about it, dangling it over the ground without a second thought.
He kept his eyes on Max, while Max kept his eyes on me.
“Let her go. It’s me you want,” he said.
I know my hair was being pulled really hard, but I’m pretty sure my brain still worked and that sentence made no sense. They wanted our money, not him.
“Give me your wallet,” gunman number two demanded of Max.
Max’s eyes narrowed and flicked over to him. He didn’t look scared. He looked pissed. He also made no move to grab his wallet.
“Give it to him!” the man holding me screamed and twisted his hand a little bit more. I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I looked at the ground, searching for something I might be able to use as a weapon.
This had to be the only street in New York that had spotless sidewalks.
Max looked at me again, trying to tell me something with his eyes. Get ready to move.
Then he glanced away. “I’m going to reach around to my back pocket and get my wallet,” he said slowly. It seemed to take forever for his arm to finally reach around and find his back pocket.
“Hurry up!” the man holding me yelled and jammed the gun into my skin. I couldn’t help it; I yelped. My skin burned with pain as tears filled my eyes. I waited for the popping sound of the gun. I waited for my life to end.
Max jerked his wallet out and extended it. Gunman number two reached for it, but Max had other ideas. Moving more quickly than I’d ever seen him move, he sprang into action, throwing the wallet at the man and knocking the gun out of his hand. It landed with a hard thunk on the pavement and Max kicked it, sending it skittering into the street and away from the man who was wielding it.
I watched as he quickly twisted the man’s arm around his back so hard I heard his shoulder pop out of place. The man cried out and hunched over. Max was ready and brought his knee up, ramming it right into the masked face.
“Move!” he yelled at me.
I didn’t think.
I twisted to the side, sinking my teeth into the meaty flesh of my assailant’s thigh, and bit down.
So nasty.
Who knew where his thigh had been…
But a girl had to do what a girl had to do.
He screamed and I released my teeth, pushing up to run away.
I got two steps.
He hit me in the back, swinging the gun around and catching me right in the center. Pain exploded between my shoulders and I fell, landing on my hands and knees. I pushed up, but the man grabbed my ankle, causing me to fall back down, flat on my face. With him still holding my ankle, I spun, flipping over to see him (He was also wearing a mask) tower over me.
He grinned a maniacal grin beneath the black fabric and raised the gun. “You can’t outrun a bullet.”
Max plowed into him from behind, coming in low like some kind of out of control linebacker. He wrapped his arms around the man’s waist and pushed off the pavement, ramming the gunman into the brick building.