Before I had a chance to open my truck door, a force coming from behind me grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around. My left hand lurched for my weapon, but the person got to it before I did. They tossed it into the dust just as they landed a powerful blow to my jaw. I was slammed into the side of my truck, half dazed. Another punch directed at my stomach almost brought me to my knees. I quickly realized whoever was hitting me was using brass nuckles.

I took inventory. My gun was out of my reach, and but I could safely say that I was the only one without immediate access to a weapon. My 22 magnum was hidden at the back of my waistband, loaded and ready. But would I have time to reach it before I was shot...or worse?

As I was hit yet again in the diaphragm, I knew that gun was my only hope. It was too dark to try to fight; I would have to rely on sound to determine where to strike, while my attacker could step behind me and slip a noose around my neck, choking me to death in a matter of seconds. Or stick a knife through my heart. That was not an option.

If I was killed tonight, how many more lives would be lost?

I reached slowly, deliberately, behind my back and felt along my beltline until my fingers closed in around something hard and cold. The revolver. I jerked it out and blindly aimed, my ears straining to hear any sound that might give away the suspect's location. The air stilled as silence enveloped me, sending shivers down my spine. Was the man gone? Had he fled the scene when he saw me pull out my gun?

Wrong.🅳︎🅴︎🅰︎🅳︎🅻︎🆈︎ wrong.

A hand closed in around my wrist, jerking it behind my back and turning it in a way it was never meant to turn. I sucked in a deep breath as my fingertips reached my shoulder blade. Before I had time to free myself, I was tugged backwards against someone's body. Gloved fingers threaded through my hair, wrenching my head back to expose my neck. My skin crawled when something cold was forced under my chin. A knife. The man had a knife held to my throat.

"You shouldn't have gotten involved in the investigation, sweetheart." The whispered, high-pitched voice prevented me from determining whether it was male or female. "Now, you'll pay."

The knife pushed deeper into my neck, hard enough to draw blood. I fought the urge to cry out as my wrist was pulled even higher.

I took several deep breaths. I thought. This isn't over yet. Just breathe. Think, Justice.

"Talk. If you're in a situation where you need more time, talk. You can say anything, just be sure to keep them talking while you figure out what to do." Lieutenant Xander's words to me while I had been in combat training rushed through my mind. If I kept the suspect talking, maybe I could buy some time.

"You're going to have to be more specific that that." My voice came out much more confident than I felt. "I've been a big part of quite a few."

The man chuckled. "Tryna talk your way out of this? It's not working, darling. Anything you wanna say before I cut out your voice box?"

"Yes, actually." I carefully moved my free arm near the blade, turning the inside of my wrist towards my face. The last thing I needed was for the knife to miss my neck but cut open the arteries in my hand. "Considering the fact that you're about to slit my throat, don't you think I least deserve to know why before I bleed to death?" My heart beat faster.

He sighed loudly. Before I realized it, my wrist was jerked even higher. A small cry escaped my lips. I was sure my shoulder would snap any second. "I have to hand it to you, kid, you're smart. Sure wish I didn't have to do this to you."

I laid her head on the man's chest, distancing my throat from the knife. "Well," I retorted with a smirk. "Looks like you're about to get your wish."

Before he could respond, I kicked him in the shin with all my strength. As he forced the knife against my throat, I blocked it with my arm, then proceeded to throw it into the truck bed.

I turned to face him just as he attempted to wrangle me to the ground. I gritted my teeth and kicked him in the groin. He released my arm with a loud grunt. I opened the truck door. If I had a fair chance of winning this fight, I had to be able to see. Where there's light, there's sight.

The man grabbed me by the shirt collar and slammed my head against the window. Blood flooded my sight. Still yet, I remained on my feet. It was either mayhem or murder, and I wasn't ready to die. Not yet.

I felt the muzzle of a gun being thrust between my shoulderblades, hard. "Move another inch, and they'll never identify your body." I froze in in place, my body tensing.

Alright, time to go with plan B.






Excerpt from The Price of Justice. © Shelby Pryor 2023.