Werewolf Sings the Blues by Jennifer Harlow Read Free Book Online

breaks. “Jesus!”
    â€œGet out of the car,” I say over the ringing.
    â€œVivian, I’m trying to save your life. Don’t—”
    â€œGet out!” I shriek.
    â€œDon’t make me do thi—”
    â€œI said get the fuck ou—”
    With one fast movement, Blondie slaps the gun to the side while reaching across to me. Before I can react, he’s got me by the back of the neck and squeezing like a boa constrictor on steroids. Lights out. Hope the vultures and coyotes enjoy their feast.

two
    Huh. I’m alive. This is a surprise.
    Once again the light from a window stings my eyes as I open them. Maybe this is heaven. Nope, my neck and ankles wouldn’t be torturing me if I was in heaven. And Nina Simone isn’t around to greet me. When my eyes focus, I check my surroundings. Backseat of a car. I get a few not terribly enjoyable flashbacks from my misspent youth as I lay back here. Of course the snoring blonde in the driver’s seat is new. His seat is pushed all the way back and reclined so his head is inches above my feet. Asleep. Good.
    I do a quick mental diagnostic of myself for damage. Besides my aching neck from sleeping at a strange angle, I have a headache, though nothing like yesterday’s. My whole body’s stiff, my arm sore from where the Marshal grabbed me, and I think I have rope burns where the straps of my shoes dug into flesh when I was fleeing. Otherwise I’m intact. Even have my panties on too. Considering all the hell rained down on me last night, I’m in good shape. I intend to keep it that way. Time to get the fuck out of here.
    The Mustang is a fabulous car, no question, except when you’ve been kidnapped and your assailant is in the front seat and you’re stuck in the back. Then you really wish they’d made it a four-door. The lever to move the passenger seat is right by my hand, but will make noise, not to mention when its down the seat blocks the door handle. Hard way it is. Careful and quiet. Slowly I unstrap my heels, removing them as I’ll move better without them on. I swish my toes and ankles in circles to restart the nerves. Oh, that’s bliss. Order restored, and never ungluing my eyes from Blondie, I gradually sit up. His snores continue. So far not awful.
    Now the tricky part. Moving about an inch a second, I creep toward the front, never taking my eyes off my comely kidnapper. I’m crouched halfway to the front when he snorts. I freeze, hell I don’t even blink as he turns on his side away from me. I don’t draw breath for five seconds until he resumes snoring. I breathe a literal silent sigh of relief. Keep on keeping on, Viv.
    I clasp onto the passenger head rest, bunch up my skirt, and very very very carefully move my right foot into the passenger seat. Ted Bundy continues snoring. Then the left foot. Good thing I’m flexible. Okay, almost there. Using the headrest to brace myself and flexing my back in an arch, I shift my left foot to the floor and lower myself onto the seat. Still snoring. Hallelujah. I reach for the handle and open the door with the same care. Jesus Christ, it worked. I’m free. My bare right foot touches hot dirt outside. I—
    Shit!
    A hand clamps around my left wrist, and my gaze jerks toward its owner. Blondie is staring at me with his usual cheer. “No.”
    Fuck it. As quick as I can, I lower my head and bite down on that hand hard enough I taste blood. He releases me, and I leap out into … oh, double fuck!
    Nothing. As I survey all 360 degrees of my surroundings, I find nothing. Nothing around to the horizon but dry brush and flat sandy soil. A freaking real tumbleweed rolls by. We’re in the desert. Might as well be on fucking Mars. I just can’t catch a damn break. “Help!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Help me!”
    Blondie climbs out of the Mustang. “We’re ten miles from the nearest town. No one can