Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I sucked in a deep breath as I inched my weight up off the creaky frame and mattress. Just then, something else crashed in the apartment. Glass or porcelain.
Someone was looking for something.
My stomach flip-flopped, mind on the wallet, on the diamonds inside it.
Was this him? Miko? Coming for his stash? Had he somehow found out who I was so quickly?
Or, possibly worse yet, was this some random home invasion? Where some ragtag group of morons might come across the stashed diamonds, steal them, and put me at even greater risk from the mafia than I already was.
I wanted to rush to my hiding space, grab the wallet, and hold onto it for dear life. Common sense was the only thing that kept me from rushing to grab it.
They were safer where they were than on my body, where they could much more easily be found.
What I could do, though, was slide open my nightstand and grab my knife. Or get behind the door to the hall and grab the bat I kept leaning there. Or the mace in my bag.
What can I say? I liked being prepared.
But before I could take a single step away from my bed, the bedroom door flew open, cracking hard against the wall and sending the bat I was going to go for shooting a few feet in the other direction.
Dammit.
“Where are they?” a ski-mask-clad intruder demanded, his voice all gravel.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, proud that my voice didn’t shake. My chin even tilted up, defiant.
“Bitch, I saw you take it from him,” he snarled, stalking toward me.
He saw me… take it from him.
So this wasn’t him? The Miko guy?
Could he work for him? A security guard or something? But if he did, why hadn’t he rushed after me? I hadn’t exactly been hauling ass when I walked off after lifting the wallet. I could have easily been chased down.
Why wait and break into my place?
Unless he didn’t work for Miko.
Maybe he’d been following him too, waiting for a chance to steal the diamonds.
Which meant I was still on the line with the mafia. So I really needed this asshole not to find the diamonds.
Decision made, I flew at the nightstand.
I managed to drag open the drawer.
But my wrist was grabbed and my body yanked back before I could close my fingers around the knife.
Pain screamed through my shoulder as I was whipped around.
I came out swinging, my fist colliding with the navy blue, scratchy material of his ski mask, though, softening the blow to his cheek, but pissing him off enough to swing as well.
When his fist met my jaw, there was nothing to absorb the impact.
“I won’t hurt you again if you tell me where they are,” he said between ragged breaths as I started to punch, knee, scratch, and kick.
It was when my fingers snagged the bottom of his mask and yanked it up and off that he lost whatever loose grip he’d had on his control.
The next blow caught me under the chin, the impact hard enough to have me lose my footing and free fall backward until I landed on my mattress.
“Fine. Have it your way,” he snarled, climbing up on top of me, his knees pinning my thighs.
But that pain was quickly dulled by panic as both of his gloved hands went to my neck, closing around it and squeezing tight.
My first thought should have been of how to get away. But I somehow found myself thinking how strange it was how quickly I started to feel breathless and tingly, how there was a roaring sound in my ear, silencing everything else.
Then, worse yet, the stars in my vision, the way it was starting to go dark around the edges.
Like I was close to passing out.
Then what? Death.
No.
Dammit.
I had to fight.
I raised my hand with what little strength I had at that moment, swinging at his face, landing a blow to his nose.
But it didn’t stop him.
He just kept squeezing.
My throat was screaming.
My chest burning.
Just when I thought it was lights out, though, his hands moved away.
It was embarrassing how I gasped, how I gulped, how I almost wept with relief.
“Where are they?” my attacker asked, his dishwater blond hair falling forward a bit to hide his blue eye.
I wouldn’t pretend to know much about the inner workings of the mob, whether they were more inclusive than they used to be or what. But I was pretty sure there weren’t a ton of blond-haired, blue-eyed Italians.
Which made me reasonably sure that I wasn’t dealing with the mob at all. That this was some other guy looking to rip them off.
And, hey, whatever. I wasn’t about to judge.
The problem was that I’d taken the diamonds first. The mafia could still blame me if this asshole stole them from me.