Bang, bang!
They shot us down.
Bang, bang!
We ran through town.
Bang, bang!
Now here I am …
Bang, bang
… in an undercover police sting.
Miranda Sikes is a twenty-year-old university student who hates
venturing into the city, but her grandmother’s watchband isn’t going to repair
itself.
The watchband doesn’t get fixed.
She misses the bus home.
She’s stuck in the one place she loathes.
But there’s a silver lining: free wedding cake by Alessandro. It’s only the
best cake in the world. Now all Miranda needs is a fiancé to dine with so she
can meet the store’s terms.
Miranda’s next decision will change the course of her day, her year,
and her life.
And it all happens when she grabs the arm of a man named Haggerty,
finds herself shoeless while running down a busy street, and is forced to dive
to the ground when she hears …
We stand across the room from each other. Lane with a huge
smirk plastered across his handsome face. I rub my chin, wondering how I
can bring down this brick shithouse. I used the only trick I had in my bag
of moves. What to do, what to do?
“Are you ready to charge at me again, or are you going to
let me show you how to do this properly?”
I match his smirk. “Oh, you’re going down, doll face.”
“Doll face? Really?” His eyebrows hitch.
“It’s what I said, isn’t it?” I flip him the bird, which
causes him to laugh once more.
“Okay, then it’s your funeral,” he teases.
“Or yours.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so.”
“Well, come on then. I’m getting bored waiting.” He fake
yawns, patting his hand in front of his lips.
Him and his smart mouth.
I bend my knees then sway from side to side. Go for his
throat. That’s what I need to do.
“Are you coming or what?” He winks.
I need to show him I’m in control. I push my shoulders back
and bounce on the balls of my feet until I take off at full pace towards him,
bending my right arm and leaning in with my elbow.
Lane’s hands take my legs, and he flips me upside
down. Mothertrucker. I scramble against his strength, and
flick my legs around his neck, crossing my feet over each other behind his
head, my head bouncing by his knees.
“Wrong move again,” he says. I feel his breath between my
legs.
No shit!
I dangle, like a dead weight, until I cackle and squeeze my
thighs as hard as I can around his neck.
Death by thigh strangulation. It could happen.
“Stop!” he shouts.
It’s working. I’m winning … until I’m not.
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