No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

“Am I Person B?”
Darby placed the rock-in-a-sock in Ashley’s hand and
closed his fingers around it, one by one. “You’re stronger than
me, aren’t you?”
“I was … I was kind of hoping you were Rhonda Rousey
or something.”
“I’m not.”
“Then I guess I’m stronger.”
“Two versus one,” she repeated, like a mantra.
“What if we kill him?”
“We’ll bash him to the floor and empty his pockets. Grab
his gun. Grab the keys on that lanyard. If he keeps fighting, so
do we. I was inside the van with him. I know what we’re up
against and I’ll cut his throat myself if I have to—”
She paused, surprised by what she’d said.
Surprised she’d meant it, too.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Ashley said, drawing
closer. “And just so you understand, Darbs, this is an assault
charge if you’re wrong.”
She did — and she knew she wasn’t. She’d spent thirty
minutes lying prone in Lars’s sweaty van under an Indian
blanket, listening to that flat-eyed creature eat and fart and
giggle with a seven-year-old girl held captive inside a dog
kennel. She knew that whatever happened, she’d be seeing that
leering grin in her nightmares: Warmed it up for you, Jaybird.
But as for Ashley — well, she understood why he had doubts.
This had all crashed down on him like a rockslide. All in about
ten minutes.
In her other pocket, she still had the .45 round. Pressed
tight against her thigh. That was her real fear — Lars’s gun.
He’d certainly use it if they didn’t bring him down swiftly.
Even if he only managed to squeeze off a blind shot or two,
there were bystanders — Ed and Sandi — to consider. Darby