If someone was in my house, just getting off my bed to try to get to my gun was going to alert them that I was awake.
Another step groaned under someone’s weight.
My stomach flipped.
A cold sweat broke out over my skin.
Was this related to the drive-by?
If it was, why would they come for me?
No.
No, it was most likely not related to that.
I remember hearing once, though, that if someone was in your house during the day, they were there for your stuff. If they were there at night, they were there for you.
Fuck the bed.
I needed my gun.
Sucking in a deep breath, I flew off my bed and across my room, grabbing the drawer of my dresser and yanking it open.
My hand was still fumbling around inside when my bedroom door burst inward, cracking against the wall.
A helpless cry escaped me as footsteps thundered into the small room.
I knew I needed to focus, but I felt helpless but to look over, to see who was in my home.
Two men.
Big.
Dressed all in black.
Bandanas over their faces.
All I could say was they had dark hair and dark eyes.
A whimper worked its way up my throat, and I had to press my lips together to keep it in as my hand finally—finally—closed around the cold metal of the gun.
As I was pulling the gun out, the drawer slammed shut, crushing the bones in my hand, making pain scream up my arm as tears flooded my eyes.
There was no stopping the shriek that escaped me.
But it was silenced in seconds as a giant hand slapped over my mouth, the pressure hard enough to make my teeth hurt, as another arm went around my center, squeezing hard enough to make my ribs scream and my breath catch.
“Get her fucking feet,” the man holding me snarled as I kicked off the dresser, trying to break his hold on me as my lungs started to burn, my face feeling weird and fuzzy.
The other guy lunged toward my feet, making me kick off the ground and bicycle them, kicking as hard as I could.
“Fucking bitch,” the guy snarled as my heel landed somewhere between his lips and nose.
The man holding me pulled me tighter, the stitch in my ribs making sparks flash in my vision.
“Get it the fuck together,” he snarled, his breath hot in my ear.
I tried to strike out again, but my legs were grabbed around the knees, making it impossible to do anything but try to pull them in and out.