There Is No Devil Sinners Duet Book 2 By Sophie Lark-pdfread

In the moment that his head is turned watching for cross traffic, I slip my
bound wrists under my legs, bringing them around in front of me. Hawks
glances at the rear-view mirror. I sit still, pretending that I haven’t moved at
all.
I wait, the seconds whipping past, the car traveling several agonizing blocks
in the wrong direction.
Then Hawks turns onto Sanchez and speeds up. He’s distracted, changing
lanes to merge into traffic.
Leaning back against the seat, I lift my feet and drive both heels into the
metal mesh as hard as I can. I kick it once, twice, as Hawks shouts and
swerves the wheel, scrabbling for his gun. My heels breaking through on the
third kick, knocking Hawks in the jaw and shoulder, sending the car
careening the opposite direction.
Hawks pulls his gun free, but now there’s no mesh between us. I drop my
wrists over his head and pull the chain back against his throat, yanking it so
tight that he has to let go of the wheel entirely, and the gun too, both hands
grabbing for the chain as he strangles.
The cruiser barrels into the cars lined up along the street, hitting the bed of a
Tacoma and flipping over. Hawks and I are both unbuckled. We’re flung up
out of our seats, still grappling and twisting in the air, landing in a crumpled
heap on the inside roof of the car.
I keep throttling him with all my strength as he claws and punches backward.
He hits me in the eye and the ear, but I hang on doggedly, choking him until I
feel him losing strength. His blows weaken. Finally he slumps forward, both
of us covered in broken glass, bleeding from a dozen cuts.
I ease the pressure off his throat.
There’s no covering this up—I just assaulted a police officer. I’m in deep
shit. I don’t need Hawks dead on top of everything else. I steal the keys off
his belt, unlock the cuffs, then leave him there with a livid chain mark across
his throat and his pulse still beating.
I crawl out the shattered windshield of the cruiser.