Inferno - Chelle Bliss by Chelle Bliss

“No one is going to treat you and love you as good as me.”

I want to laugh, but I don’t. Love isn’t shown with force and definitely not with a gun.

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

That’s a ridiculous statement. If anything, I’m the one who probably doesn’t deserve Stone or his family.

I glance down at the gun Jeff has placed between his legs. The dumbass has the barrel pointed at his body.

“What happened to the blonde?”

His head snaps my way as we sit at the light. “What blonde?”

“The one you had at our apartment.”

I lean over, debating grabbing for the gun.

Can I do it?

“She was nothing,” he says, shifting in his seat as his gaze turns back to the road.

The real question is…should I do it?

I don’t want to die.

Things in my life have been starting to get good for the first time in years. The last thing I want is to have it all end now.

I can get the gun from him, but I will have to be smart about it. I can’t let him get me out of the car. I have to act fast before he takes me somewhere no one would ever find me again.

“If I can’t have you, no one else can, Opal. You were meant to be with me forever.”

Chills run down my spine as the reality of the situation crashes over me. I’m not getting out of this alive. I’m the only one who’s going to be able to rescue me. No one’s coming for me. Not because they won’t try, but there’s no time.

Jeff’s going to use that gun on me unless I use it on him first.

There is no time to waste.

I lunge to my left, wrapping my fingers around the barrel, but Jeff’s too fast. He slams his legs closed, making it impossible for me to pull the gun free.

“Fuck,” he barks, yanking the steering wheel to the side and swerving through traffic.

I don’t pull my hand back. It’s better to risk dying in a traffic accident than to let him take me somewhere else.

I rear my free hand back and let it fly toward his face. My knuckles connect with the side of his jaw, and his head snaps back, sending the car to the side of the road. My ass lifts off the seat with a jolt, but I don’t release my hold on the gun or stop hitting Jeff as he tries to fend me off.

Everything happens so fast, but somehow it feels like slow motion. I can hear the blood pumping through my ears as my heart hammers at a pace I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced before.

I struggle to get hold of the gun, but Jeff’s legs are too strong. He’s doing his best to maintain control, and I know there’s only one more thing to do.

I let go of the gun, sliding my hand out from between his thighs, and reach up. I yank the steering wheel as hard as I can before he has a chance to hit the brakes. When I look up, I see a telephone pole coming right at us.

I wince, closing my eyes, and let the impact happen.

It’ll all be over soon…

My entire body moves forward as soon as the front of the car makes contact with the wooden pole. The airbag deploys, rocketing my body backward as it smashes into my face.

The horn is blaring, my ears are ringing, and my heart is pounding harder than it was only a few seconds ago. I’m dazed and confused, unable to focus.

People are surrounding the car, looking at us like we’re a sideshow act.

“Don’t move,” someone says as soon as they open my door.

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I want to warn them, tell them about Jeff and the gun, but I can’t think straight or form any words.

“The police are on the way,” someone says, but I’m not sure if it’s the same person or someone else.

“Shit. How did they survive?” another person asks. “The car is crushed.”

I let my head drift to the left where Jeff had been, but he’s not there. Did he run away? How did he get out of the car so quickly? Is he outside, ready to shoot me as soon as he has a clear line of sight?

“Jeff,” I mumble, his name barely audible.

“He’s not breathing!” someone yells from the front of the car.

When I turn my head to look forward, my gaze lands on a giant hole in the windshield.

“Do I start CPR?” another person asks.

Everything is covered in a white haze, and that dull ringing in my ears continues, adding to the noise of the horn honking over and over again.

“He’s dead,” someone says.

He’s dead.

Are they talking about Jeff, or did we hit someone in our struggle?

The white fog in my mind shifts, turning black, and then everything disappears.





23





STONE





I place my hand on Opal’s shoulder, trying to calm her as she begins to stir. “Don’t move. You’re safe, baby.”

“Thank goodness,” Fran says, rising from her chair to stand on the other side of Opal’s hospital bed. “I didn’t think she was ever going to wake up.”

Opal’s face looks like she went three rounds in the ring with a heavyweight fighter. Her nose is swollen and packed with cotton. Her eyes are black, blue, and all shades of purple.

“Stone,” Opal whispers, opening her eyes slowly.

“I’m here, Opal. You’re safe,” I repeat, wanting her to fully understand that she’s not in harm’s way.