Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
She couldn’t breathe.
The clerk stood, bending over the desk, and pointed at Rylee’s room.
Trembling, reeling into gasping hysterics, she stumbled away from the window.
He was coming for her.
She spun and raced toward the bathroom, operating on impulse. A hot mist fogged the mirror and hung in the air as she yanked the shower curtain closed. Keeping the water running, she backed out of the bathroom and shut the door.
The gap beneath the king-sized bed allowed just enough space for her to fit. She squeezed herself into the hiding spot, her cheek against the carpet, which reeked of maple syrup and cigarette smoke.
Once every inch of her was out of view, she lay on her stomach, chin to the floor, angled toward the foot of the bed, with her fingers slick and clammy around the hilt of the knife.
No amount of knocking would convince her to come out and open that door. If local law enforcement wanted to talk to her, they could send a guy who looked like a small-town detective during daylight hours.
The wait was petrifying, the silence deafening. Perspiration beaded on her brow as her panic-stricken heart tore through her chest, searching for a way out.
She didn’t detect approaching footsteps. Didn’t hear a fist against the door. When the hush broke, it detonated in a spray of splintered wood.
The door swung open, pieces of it scattering the floor inches from her face. A bullet had done that. Without the report of gunfire.
His weapon had a suppressor, like something out of a fucking mafia movie.
He was going to kill her.
She slapped a hand over her mouth, smothering the burst of her breaths as she slid the knife across the carpet in front of her.
The intruder strode in, making a beeline for the bathroom. Shiny dress shoes blurred by. Soundless footsteps. Determined. Deadly.
If she slipped out of hiding now, he would shoot her. Not that she could move. Ice encased her joints. Tears leaked from her eyes, her dread so cold and heavy it pressed her into the floor.
He stopped at the bathroom door and quietly opened it. Then he stepped back and fired into the cloud of steam.
Phut. Phut. Phut. Phut. Phut.
She flinched with each muffled shot, shaking violently as bullet casings dropped to the floor.
He paused. She stopped breathing.
Right about now, he was coming to the realization that a body hadn’t fallen in the shower. He would have to go in there and investigate, and that would be her only opportunity to escape.
Her muscles clenched, her entire being fraught with fear and braced to run. How many bullets did he have left? Was he carrying extra magazines?
His shoes pivoted, angling toward the bed.
No, no, no. Oh, God. Please, don’t walk this way.
He stalked straight toward her, sending her into a hyperventilating fit of terror.
CHAPTER 18
A tear trickled down Rylee’s cheek and dangled from her chin with maddening endurance. More fell as the gunman closed in, his shoes following an invisible line to her hiding spot.
Lying on her stomach in a puddle of breathless terror, she readjusted her grip on the knife and poised it just out of view.
He paused at the foot of the bed, and her pulse went berserk. He lowered into a squat, and her adrenaline kicked in, muffling all sound. Then she lunged, slashing the knife, fast and deep, across his ankles.
With a guttural cry, she hacked again, less effective this time as his legs whirled, soaking her hand in hot blood.
The gun fired with a suppressed pop. She didn’t slow her attack. Swiping the blade across his shins, she scrambled out from under the bed. The metal frame ripped along her back, but she didn’t feel the pain. Right now, all she felt was the driving urgency to eliminate the threat.
She kept the knife in constant motion, lacerating his legs again and again. Raging fear and frustration constricted her chest. How was he still standing?
A dry click sounded from the pistol. Out of bullets.
His body crashed onto hers, heavy and uncoordinated. She’d maimed him, but he wasn’t giving up.
“Who are you?” She twisted beneath him and buried the blade in his thigh. “How the fuck do you know me?”
He roared in agony and grabbed for the knife. She yanked it away and stabbed him in the stomach.
His hand collided with her face, smashing her jaw with a force that sent her flying backward. She didn’t have time to control her landing. The impact with the floor snatched the breath from her lungs, and her head bounced off the corner of the wall, shooting stars across her vision.
She blinked rapidly, panting and disoriented. When her eyes came into focus, he was on his knees, crawling toward her with a hand wrapped around the knife in his gut.
“Why won’t you fucking die?” she screamed and threw herself at him, pounding her fists in his face. “What do you want? Why are you here?”