Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“When I came home, it was like this,” I said.
He moved exceptionally fast. His hands were rough, and I only saw the knife because the flat side of it caught the light before it bit into the flesh of my neck.
“Where is Juric?” The man’s voice was low with a European accent I couldn’t place, and he rasped like he smoked a thousand cigarettes a day. “Tell me or I slit your fucking throat.”
“W-What?”
His hand jerked, and the burning pain said he’d cut me. A nick, just deep enough to make me bleed and believe he’d do what he said.
“We know he was here. Why?”
Oh, my God. Juric was here?
“I don’t know,” I blurted.
My legs were weak, and I shook violently, but my mind raced. Living in New York, I’d been told not to fight back when being mugged or attacked, but I’d always been a fighter. I needed a weapon.
The ugly man grabbed a fistful of hair at the base of my skull and used his hold to painfully yank me closer to the stove. His knife was abruptly gone from my neck so he could flip the gas burner on. It clicked and ignited, and then the sharp point of his blade was at my side, just below my ribs.
My terrified gaze was drawn to the ring of flames rising from the empty burner.
“Put your hand out,” he commanded.
I tried not to whimper. “No.”
“Then talk. Why did he come here?”
“Please, I don’t know,” I gasped loudly.
His hold in my hair tightened, and the pain made my vision blur. Warm blood ran down my neck, soaking my shirt, and my heart throbbed in my throat. Being burned was one of my greatest fears, and I could not let it paralyze me.
There was a heavy skillet in the drying rack on the other side of the counter. I couldn’t reach it, not with his hands on me.
Abruptly, a blur of dark hair and angry eyes emerged from the bedroom and barreled toward me. For the first time in my life, I was overwhelmingly relieved to see Shawn. Holy shit, he moved fast.
So fast he probably didn’t see the knife lying in wait for him. The man released me with a shove, assuming Shawn was a bigger threat. Finally free, I reached out and closed my hands around the handle of the skillet.
Shawn was almost to us, where he’d run right into the knife that was meant for me, and I wasn’t going to let that happen. I swung with all the force I had.
A horrifying crack rang out when the skillet connected with the man’s skull. The impact reverberated up my arms and I stumbled back, crashing into the stove. The man spun halfway around and fell, the knife skittering across the floor.
Shawn pulled up short, stunned.
“Oh, shit.” My voice was barely audible as I dropped the skillet.
He flew toward me and grabbed a dishtowel along the way, pressing it to the side of my neck when he reached me.
“Are you all right?” His eyes were full of panic.
A bloody puddle formed beneath the man’s head and grew rapidly, causing the words to spill from me. “Is he dead? Did I just kill him?”
Shawn pressed harder on the towel to staunch my bleeding and his other arm looped around my back to hold me. “Kara, how badly are you hurt?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I looked at the stove, saw the burner still going, and switched it off. My mind was numb from what had happened.
From what I’d done.
11
SHAWN
Kara’s face was completely white and she trembled so hard, she vibrated in my arms. The man who’d cut her lay in a twitching heap, and when her gaze began to drop to the floor, I forced her to move toward the front door, not wanting her to see.
We couldn’t stay here—it wasn’t safe.
She was probably going into shock and didn’t hear the urgency in my voice, but it was there. “We have to go.” I gently pressed on the towel. “Can you hold this?”
She didn’t nod, but her fingers went to cover mine, taking over so my hands were free. She said nothing as I urged her out of the red coat she wore and it slid off, landing in a pile at her feet. There was a simple rain jacket in the entry closet, and I yanked it down so fast I slung the hanger noisily against the wall.
I hastily draped the dark jacket around her shoulders. The red coat was too bright, too noticeable.
I grabbed both handles of the bags we’d left just inside the front door, hurried her out into the hall, and guided her to the stairs. The constable had said someone would be here soon—but we wouldn’t be. The only thing I cared about right now was getting Kara away from the man we’d left on the floor.