No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

a donut. She knew it might appear hopeless, but no, there was
one last option she could try. Maybe she was delirious from
the gas vapors. Maybe it was pure fantasy. But maybe, just
maybe …
I’m not trapped.
Only two of my fingers are.
It would be a horrible thing. It would be a desperate, nasty,
wrenching act, and it would hurt more than she could imagine,
but then she glanced over at the dark figure of Larson Garver
in his stupid Deadpool beanie, who’d finished wiping up
fingerprints and now stood in the center of the room with his
.45 aimed at herself and Jay, and she made a final vow through
gritted teeth: I’ll hurt you even worse, Rodent Face. I’ll take
your gun.
Then I’ll kill Ashley with it.
This girl is going home.
Tonight.
“I have an idea,” she whispered to Jay, concealing the
Swiss Army knife under her unhurt palm. “One last idea. And
I’m going to need your help.”
Lars saw them whispering.
* * *
“Hey.” He raised the Beretta. “Stop talking.”
Darby murmured something else into Jaybird’s ear, and
the little girl nodded once. Then she stood up, stepping aside
with silent purpose. Now Darby stared across the room at him,
eyes rock-hard.
“Stop looking at me.”
She didn’t.
“Turn your head. Ah, look at the floor.” He thrust the
Beretta at her for emphasis, but she didn’t flinch. The pistol