Christina tried to blink away her tears, but her mascara clumped together on her eyelashes and turned the man in front of her and the bathroom behind him into a blur. “Puh-puh-puh-puh-please,” she sobbed as she struggled to pull off her tank top. She got it up in front of her face, exposing her bra, and felt a hard hand cup her breast through the fabric. “Please don’t.”
“Shut up,” he told her.
The side of her head stung where he had slapped it, and the feel of his hand clawing at her boobs revolted her. If it weren’t for the gun he held in his other hand…even through her running makeup, she could see the way the overhead light flashed off the silver barrel. Her heart hammered, her sinuses ached. She had never been so scared in her entire life.
Her arms were trembling, which made it hard
