Pascal reached toward me, and I yanked an arm free and parried his move.

"What the fuck?" He glared at me, al pupil.

"Somebody put this guy on his leash." I said it with much more bravado than I felt.

Pascal's flush deepened and the muscles in his neck and arms corded.

"Who the fuck is this bitch?"

Again he reached for me. Again I knocked his hand away. I was almost numb with fear, but I couldn't let them see it.

"You probably come from a dysfunctional home where no one can spel the word polite, so the lack of manners may not be your fault. But don't ever touch me again," I hissed.

"Sacre bl -- " Pascal's fingers bal ed into fists.

"Want me to shoot her ass?" asked Tank, reaching for the .38.

"Be cool, bitch, or these guys'l leave your brains on a wal ." JJ giggled, shoved me forward, then melted into the crowd.

I started to bolt, but Pascal grabbed and spun me, angling my arm up hard against my back. Pain shot to my shoulder, and tears blurred my vision.

"Not in here, Pascal." Rémi spoke in a low, bloodless voice. He'd positioned himself behind my assailant, the bat stil on his shoulder. "Take it somewhere else."

"No problem." Pascal wrapped an arm around my throat and pressed his body into mine. I felt something cold and hard against my neck.

I flailed and twisted as best I could, but I was no match for the drugs pumping through his veins.

"Al ons-y," Pascal snarled, half-pushing, half-dragging me toward the back of the bar. "This bitch is going to the opera."

Chapter 32

No! I protested, terror overcoming my resolve to stay cool . One arm compressing my trachea, the other bending my elbow at an excruciating angle, Pascal drove me through the crowd. His blade jumped with each step, and I felt blood ooze down the side of my neck.

Rage and fear rocketed my adrenaline, and my mind screamed conflicting orders.

Do as he tel s you!

Don't go with him!

Frantic, I looked around for sources of help. The bartender just watched our progress, smoke curling across his face. Rockabil y music pounded from the jukebox. I heard catcal s and hoots, but the faces we passed were passive, carvings in apathy; No one showed interest in what happened to me.

Don't let him take you outside!

I struggled and twisted, but my efforts were useless against Pascal's strength. Increasing the pressure on my throat, he forced me out a back door and down a set of metal steps. Bootfal s told me Tank was right behind.

When my feet hit gravel, I took a deep breath, ducked and twisted, but Pascal only tightened his choke hold. Desperate, I dipped my chin and bit his hand with al the strength my jaws could muster.