Revenge by Meli Raine Page B

here with him, Carrie? Is there something going on between the two of you I don’t know about? ” His words fly out like angry crows on the attack, all aimed at my heart.  
    I slap M a rk’s face so hard. So hard. It’s like it happened in the crack of a gunshot and in slow motion, all at once. My palm reache s out and my shoulder inflicts the blow with so much force. I t feels like I’m slapping a giant slab of granite, though.
    H e doesn’t move an inch.
    I don’t know why I slap ped him. Every cell of my body feels full, like I’m about to explode.  
    And then I turn and run.
    I guess I become stupid when I panic, too.
    My legs pump hard with the effort of the damned. My calves start to scream within seconds, my heart rushing to fill and empty faster and faster as my blood pours through me. Oxygen and effort go hand in hand. M y ears fill with the rush of a thousand waterfalls.
    I am light. I am air. I am musc l e and fear and pain and nothing but the flow of my bones and muscles and skin moving me through space and time.
    “ Carrie!’ Mark shouts from behind me. “Don’t make me tackle you.” He’s puffing from running, but his voice has a chilling calm to it.  
    I don’t answer.
    I just run .
    Underbrush turns a pale green color as I go up a small ridge then down a gully. I see an unfamiliar sight: a small river, wider than the road, but just a few inches deep. It must be a mirage. H ave I reached the point where I’m hallucinating?
    Maybe that’s the trick. Just go crazy. Let your mind unravel.  
    M y lungs fill and empty, over and over, my breathing like white lightning being dragged across my ribs. It hurts, but oh, the pain feels so good. T he ache of doing something is always a million times better than just sitting there and letting the world t a ke its pot shots at you.
    No , I think. No. I won’t stop .
    And then—ice chips on my skin. Cold. I can’t breathe. My face is underwater and oh—the water is deeper than I thought. A wall of weight is on me, then a hand snakes around my waist a nd under my knees.
    I’m wet. Soaking wet, and being lifted out like a child who won’t come when she’s called.
    “PUT ME DOWN!” I scream.
    “Not until you see reason.”
    Mark’s skin is hot under his wet uniform shirt. I try to wrench away and feel nothing but curved muscle. He’s hard and strong and I can’t wriggle away.
    “ Reason? All I see a stubborn, thick-headed, controlling—”
    “ T hen you must be looking at me—”
    “ ASSHOLE!”  
    “Ouch,” Mark says through mirthless laughter. “Then that means I’m doing my job.”
    “ It’s your job to be an asshole? Funny. I didn’t know they gave paychecks for that!” I bark back.  
    “And I didn’t know that the woman I love spends her spare time hanging out with men I warn her to stay away from,” he says, the words dripping with sarcasm.
    “You don’t own me!” Wait. Hold on. My brain slams on the brakes.
    The woman I love ? Did he really just say that?
    “I may not own you, Carrie,” he says as he wades through the water, eyes forward and scanning the horizon for Eric and the other cop, “but I’m not going to stand by idly and watch you get hurt because you’re being an impetuous child.”
    Child? CHILD?
    “You’re being a jerk!” I thrash and kick. Mark’s arms are like bands of steel. He’s pulling me to his chest and I almost bite him. I could if I wanted to, but that seems to o juvenile. Babyish. I n my fury I realize I need to have the upper hand by being the m ature person in this interaction.  
    So I try to kick him in the balls.
    His grip tightens so swiftly it’s like he has bionic arms.
    “Hey,” he says, hot breath covering my ear and neck. His voice goes low and sensual, dangerous and primitive. “You liked that part of me just a few hours ago. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
    A red cloud of pure anger takes over me.
    “ You don’t get to do this, Mark!” I reach up and grab his