Welcome to Snippet Saturday, where authors share snippets of their work!
Today we’re going to showcase our main character kicking ass. This scene is from RIDING ON INSTINCT, and Shadoe is literally fighting for her life. Hope you enjoy!
For someone tall and slender, Cheri was surprisingly strong. Shadoe was no lightweight, but she’d had the wind knocked out of her so Cheri had the advantage landing on top of her like that. And the first punch to her face had knocked her senseless.
Cheri was obviously a streetfighter, and didn’t mind getting her knuckles bruised. Shadoe was still trying to regain her senses when Brandon grabbed her by the shirt and hauled her to her feet. Dizzy, disoriented, she could barely stand upright when Cheri hit her the second time. She went barreling backward through the double doors leading to the dressing room, tumbling end over end and thankful for the thick carpeting when she hit her head.
Jesus, that hurt.
She had to focus, had to grab her wits. She was damn lucky Brandon—who now had her gun—hadn’t just shot her.
“Quit fucking around. Let me just kill her,” he said.
“Hell no. This bitch has had it coming since the minute she stepped foot in our club. I’m going to beat her until she’s dead.”
Fine with Shadoe. Fists she could handle. A bullet was a much more permanent solution, so the longer she could put that off, the better. When Cheri came for her this time, Shadoe was a bit more clear headed—and sufficiently pissed off.
Shadoe dodged her and Cheri went sprawling face down on the carpet. Now it was her turn to jump on top of Cheri. She wrenched her arm behind her back and gave it a quick jerk.
Cheri screamed, kicked her feet back and tried to buck Shadoe off, but Shadoe had her weight on top now and she wasn’t about to budge.
Until the butt end of a pistol whipped the side of her head. Pain knifed through her skull and she let go of Cheri’s arm, grabbed her head with both hands and Cheri threw her off. Shadoe crashed against the wall and landed prone.
“Goddamit, that hurt.” Hot, sticky wetness trickled down her fingers.
Blood. Shadoe pressed her fingers against the wound. Great. Now she was dizzy, nauseous, and everything was growing fuzzy. She forced herself to stay conscious. She glared up at Brandon, determined to do whatever it took to stay alive for as long as she could. “Don’t think your girlfriend can take care of herself?”
Brandon, who she’d thought was such a nice guy, leered down at her now. God, she’d gotten that so wrong.
“Doesn’t really matter what you say. You’re not going to live through the night.” He raised the gun but Cheri scrambled to her feet and grabbed his arm, pushing the barrel away from Shadoe. She’d like to be grateful, but she knew it was only temporary.
“No, dammit. Not yet. I’m not finished with her.”
Panting, disoriented, and just plain sick to her stomach, Shadoe dragged herself to a sitting position, refusing to let this skank get the best of her. She had to clear her head, had to think about how she could get Cheri out of the way, then disarm Brandon.
Not easy with a bleeding head wound and already beaten by the crazy woman. The odds weren’t in her favor. No one knew about Brandon and Cheri’s role in the drug smuggling operation. Spence would be busy with the Feds on board the ship for awhile and would expect her to return there…eventually. They weren’t going to come looking for her.
She was dead and she knew it. But she wasn’t going let them kill her while she just sat there. She pushed herself up the wall and braced herself against it—no easy feat considering she no doubt had a concussion. Cheri watched her, a smug, victorious smile on her face.
“Finish this, Cheri,” Brandon said. “Or I will.”
The room spun, and Cheri did too, actually. Shadoe knew it was a product of her head wound, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. She thought about pushing off the wall and launching herself at Cheri, but knew that would be pointless as she’d either fall on her face or miss the woman entirely. So she waited, her right hand tucked behind her, fingers curled into a tight fist. She didn’t have a lot left, but she reserved it for Cheri’s attack.
When Cheri came for her, Shadoe resisted the urge to sink down, to sidestep. Instead, she waited until just the moment when Cheri was in range. Then she pulled her arm out, hauled it back and used every ounce of strength she possessed to slam her fist right in the middle of Cheri’s face. Bone crunched as her knuckles connected with the cartilage in Cheri’s nose. Blood spurted everywhere, and her hand hurt like a sonofabitch.
But she’d hit the spot. Cheri’s eyes slid back in her head and she crumpled like an accordion, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Shadoe didn’t even look at her. She bent down, grabbed one of her stilettos and while Brandon was busy gaping down at his girlfriend, she took the heel end of her shoe and slammed it down on top of his head. The action caused him to raise his gun arm, which she reached for with both hands. Weakened, she didn’t have much strength to fight him, but she intended to hold on as long as she could.
At least she’d wounded him. Blood poured down his face, into his eyes, forcing him to fight her for the gun and drop his forehead onto his upper arm to wipe away the blood.
Strengthened by Brandon’s weakness, she fought harder, using everything she had at her disposal. She kicked him with her remaining shoe, pounding down on the top of his foot. He groaned out a curse, pushed against her. She elbowed him in the ribs but he was stronger, finally pushing her hard enough that she lost hold of his arm.
She went flying to the ground and immediately rolled over, intent on pushing to her feet.
But it was too late. He had one hand over his face to wipe away the blood, the other pointing the gun at her.
She braced herself for the bullet, praying it would be quick and painless. The explosion of gunfire deafened her and she jerked.
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