Fearless. HelenKay Dimon
and she’d be doubled over hyperventilating.
As she struggled to regain control of her body, words raced through her mind, blurred and garbled. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to concentrate and bring them into focus.
Stay calm. Remember what I taught you.
Like that, anxiety stopped pinging around inside of her. Her ex wasn’t in the room but she could hear his voice inside her head. He was an expert at self-defense and at breaking a woman’s heart. Only the former mattered right now. A brief mental review of the skills he’d taught her stopped the room from spinning.
In a span of seconds her brain rebooted. She let her body go completely limp as she gathered her energy reserves for a big play.
The attacker tossed her around as he walked into the family room. When he finally stopped, he lifted his hand from her mouth but kept it hovering there, ready to slap against her lips again. “Are you going to be a good girl, princess?”
She nodded. Relief crashed through her a heartbeat later when the tight constriction around her chest eased. The man still held her, could crush her windpipe or any other body part if he wanted, but she could breathe without panting again. Oxygen flooded her brain as she waited for her chance.
“Thank you,” she whispered, trying to sound grateful and submissive and whatever else this guy needed to feel confident in his power over her.
He spun her around. Only a foot of space separated them as his fingers dug into her upper arms. “What are you doing here?”
“Work.”
He leaned in. “What kind?”
Now. She lifted her knee, putting all of her strength behind it, every ounce of will and the adrenaline flowing through her, and nailed him right between the legs. His mouth moved but nothing except a tiny squeak came out. His hands slid down her arms, all pressure from his fingertips gone, as he fell to the floor in a whoosh.
He groaned and swore as he rolled around. After rocking a few times, he tucked into the fetal position and stayed there. Then his breath came back full force. The furious whispering started, filled with swearing and what he planned to do to her before he snapped her neck.
She blocked the words, refused to be paralyzed by them. She had to move and wouldn’t get a better opportunity. She shifted around his prone body, ignoring the thrashing and threats. She’d almost stepped to freedom when his big hand clamped around her ankle.
With his body still bent over, his furious gaze stayed on her. He twisted and pulled until she hopped on one foot. She let him drag her closer as she fought for balance. It was either give in to his strength or topple over him and she knew if that happened, she was a dead woman. He’d made that clear.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He almost spit as he talked.
The fury in his tone whiplashed around her. Her mind went blank except for one thing—escape. With one hand pressed against the side of the couch, she reached out, trying to grab for the lamp sitting on the table behind it. As he pulled hand over hand, bringing her closer, she stretched out to full length, ignoring his nails as they dug into her skin.
Keeping her focus on the target, she waved her hand and her fingertips brushed against the shade. The base wobbled and thudded against the wood. Her breath caught as she waited for it to bobble then fall out of reach, but luck was on her side this one time.
With one last lunge she slapped her palm around the long stem and held on. Yanking as hard as she could, she ripped the cord from the wall and dragged the lamp over the back of the sofa toward her chest.
A ripping sound cut through the room as the top of the lamp broke through the shade. She ignored the pain shooting up her leg and the heavy weight in her hand. Pivoting, she turned and held her unexpected weapon directly over her attacker’s head. And let go.
His eyes popped wide and he yelled as he moved his head on the carpet. At the last second, he let go of her and folded his arms over his face to ward off the inevitable blow.
Suddenly free, her body went flying from the momentum. She stumbled as balance completely abandoned her. Next thing she hit the floor on her knees and heard a crack. Biting through her lip to beat back the sudden thumping in her knee and scrambling on all fours, she shuffled across the carpet.
The slide against the rug burned her skin and something sharp on the floor dug into her palm. She gave a quick tug to her purse strap where it sat next to her abandoned chair a few feet away, and the contents spilled all over the floor. She grabbed for her keys and left everything else behind.
With a push, she got to her feet. One knee buckled as a sharp sting stole her breath. She ignored it all, keeping her focus on the front door. Freedom sat a few steps away, and she had to get there before her attacker showed off a new weapon. She saw the knife but he could be hiding anything anywhere.
She looked over her shoulder one last time as her hand closed over the doorknob. Her attacker had almost reached a sitting position as he felt around him for something.
Now or never.
Throwing the door open, she tripped across the threshold and down the three steps to the walkway. Every cell inside her told her to look back and see how close he was. She pushed it all away.
After a chirp, the car’s locks clicked. Her hands shook as she opened the door and threw her body across the seat. From the corner of her eye she saw a shadow. The attacker stood in the doorway with his hands braced against the sides of the jamb.
When he started down the stairs her heartbeat kicked up until the hammering filled the car. The keys jangled in her hand as she tried to shove them in the ignition. Once, twice, three times she missed, clicking against the steering column. Finally one fit into the slot and she turned it hard enough to twist the metal.
Just as the attacker reached the side of the car, she slammed her elbow against the lock and jammed the gas pedal to the floor. He smacked his hand against the driver’s-side window and she put all her weight on that pedal. The tires squealed and her nine-year-old car fishtailed out of the parking space and onto the one-way street, barely missing the motorcycle parked across the street.
With fingers locked around the wheel, she wrestled to keep the front end from smashing into a car right in front of her. This area of town consisted of narrow streets packed with brownstone residents who juggled on-street parking regulations on a daily basis. Her only goal at the moment was to keep from pinging through there like a pinball. And to keep moving.
She ran the stop sign and flew down the street at a speed guaranteed to get her a ticket, and right then she’d kill to see a police car. A few people standing on the sidewalks yelled at her and one shook his fist. Their neighborhood-watch outrage was the least of her worries right now.
Taking the corner too fast, she ripped around to the left at the next intersection and didn’t stop while her heartbeat still clanged in her ears. Up ahead she saw a red light and traffic flow in both directions. With her eyes closed or open, no way could she pass through there and live. She needed an alternate route, but she didn’t know this part of town well enough to know the best ways in and out.
Easing over, she hooked a right and flew down another residential street. When she finally eased up on the gas, the shaking in her hands had moved to her entire body. Every cell and muscle trembled. She hadn’t realized she was mumbling and gulping in breaths until the fog clouding her brain cleared a little.
She let the car slow to a stop as she pulled into a space reserved for buses. Checking the rearview mirror for the hundredth time, she scanned the street, looking for anyone who might be following. Cars passed and people walked by—a few even stared at the lady drawing in deep breaths as she sat frozen in place. But all that mattered was she didn’t see the attacker.
Once the air flowed inside her at a normal rate again, she fumbled around in her jacket pocket and grabbed her cell. This time she skipped a frantic emergency call to the police. She needed the one man she’d vowed never to call again—Davis