Big Shot Boss by Layla Valentine & Ana Sparks

Author:Layla Valentine & Ana Sparks [Valentine, Layla & Sparks, Ana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-05-03T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

ELIZABETH

I haven’t slept a wink. The suspense about what’s going to happen today is killing me. I keep thinking of my conversation with Stewart and fear keeps flooding through me in waves. Are they having the house watched even now? Are they having me followed? How much do they actually know about me? Is there a chance we could run away, move across the country and never come back? I hear Connecticut is nice this time of year.

I force myself to get up out of bed. Though I’m so wired with fear that I’m not even a little tired, my limbs feel heavy and it’s hard to move. When I feel my feet touch the cool floorboards, I remind myself to breathe. No matter what, I’m going to make it through this. I’m smart. I’m resourceful. I’ve taken my fair share of self-defense classes. And above all, my mother needs me. I have no option but to make it out in one piece.

I take a deep breath and with that fact fixed firmly in my mind, I’m ready to face the day. Whatever the hell it’s going to bring.

When I step out of the shower and look at my phone, I have a text from James. My heart thumps hard in my chest.

“Pack a bag,” he says.

Pulse racing, I text him back, “Where are we going?”

I wait and I wait, but he doesn’t answer me. Fucking fuck.

I go about getting ready, even though all I want is to hide under my blankets in my sweats and never come out.

I practice deep breathing while I put on my makeup and blow-dry my hair. I choose a flared A-line skirt so that I can slip my thigh holster on. I have a teenie pistol, a mini Diamondback that I bought so I can use it as a concealed carry in my purse once my permit has been approved. The permit has definitely not been approved, but I’m not taking any chances. James pointed a gun at my face yesterday. The thigh holster is going to chafe all day, but the pistol is incredibly light, so it’ll stay in place as long as I need it to.

I look myself over in the mirror. I swing back and forth in my skirt; there’s enough volume in it that no matter how I twist and turn, the pistol isn’t noticeable. Good.

I really hope I don’t have to use it. I’m prepared to use deadly force to protect myself if necessary—I’ve had plenty of training and I practice fairly often at the shooting range. But honestly, I’m squeamish just thinking about it. It seems like over the years, I’ve had to resort to more and more drastic measures to protect myself and, by extension, my mother. I don’t know if that’s because I’m wising up, I’m losing my morals, or if I really am just getting deeper and deeper.

My face is incredibly pale. I swallow hard and take a deep breath. I don’t know exactly how just yet, but I am determined to get out of this mess.

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