Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Get in,” he ordered.
I stared at the tiny space like it was an awaiting coffin. “No.”
“I told you, you don’t say no to me.”
Without warning, he clamped a hand around my neck, and his grip was steel as he lifted me off my feet. His fingers squeezed until I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t make a sound. My feet kicked violently, causing my shoes to come off, one after the other. The pain was awful, and fear twisted every muscle inside me.
He’s going to kill me.
I let go of the strap of the laptop bag and clawed at his wrist as my vision began to darken. If these were my final moments, I’d fight until the end.
But abruptly my bare feet were on the cold, grimy cement.
His grip was gone and air poured back into my lungs through my raw throat. Tears stung my eyes, making everything blurry. It was so hard to see, I almost missed the car that had approached, or the way it had pulled to a stop.
The male driver had the door open, stepped out, and anger heated his face as he glared at Seth.
“What the hell are you doing?” The driver’s attention turned to me and his expression shifted to concern. “Are you all right?”
I parted my lips to speak—
Seth had already demonstrated how fast he could move, but his speed was no less shocking this time around. He withdrew his gun, aimed, and fired once, striking the man’s head just left of dead center. I flinched at the booming noise, not comprehending what had just happened until the man’s head snapped back violently with a burst of bloody tissue. His knees gave way, and he collapsed beside his running car.
A scream snagged in my stricken throat, refusing to come out.
For the second time tonight, a voice shouted in my head. Run.
My survival instinct took control, and I used all the strength I possessed to swing the laptop bag at Seth’s murderous face. The flat part connected with the side of his head in a satisfying thump and knocked him off balance, causing him to drop to a knee as I turned and fled.
My bare feet slapped against the gritty, cold concrete, and I had to grab a fistful of my skirt to hike it up out of my way. I didn’t need anything else to slow me down since I still had hold of his bag. Maybe a part of me knew it was important.
I had a decent lead, but his staccato footsteps echoed off the garage walls. He was sprinting after me.
“Stop!” he cried.
Not a chance.
The opening was in sight when three gunshots peppered the wall closest to me. All it did was pump more adrenaline into my system and urge me to run faster than I’d ever run before. He could not catch me.
I reminded myself that professional dancers were athletes and I’d always been fast. The mantra beaten into me from countless rehearsals of chassés flitted through my mind. Quick, soft, light.
Another gunshot blasted, and the window of the empty ticket booth ahead of me shattered, raining glittering pebbles across my path. I veered away from the jagged glass and raced up the entrance ramp.
The parking garage spat me out on the lake side. I streaked down the sidewalk, focusing as hard as I did during auditions. I used my arms, my posture, my breathing . . . every technique I had in my arsenal. I ignored the pain in my feet. They were tough and calloused from years of ballet and could survive nearly anything.
Two long strides had me banging across a metal drainage grate, and only a second later, the grate protested again.
Shit, he was closing in.
“Stop!” He sounded furious.
The block was deserted, but the theater was around the corner and hopefully would still be crawling with federal agents. Could I get there before he caught me? I could hear him, gasping for breath and right on my heels. It wasn’t a good idea—but I couldn’t stop myself from looking back.
Seth was only ten feet behind, a determined focus painted on his face.
You’re not going to make it, the desperate voice inside my head cried.
The hell I’m not, I fired back.
I dug deep for more power as I rounded the side of the building . . . only to collide with something so hard, the impact knocked the laptop from my grip, the air from my lungs, and sent me sprawling across the sidewalk.
The collision sent the man stumbling back, and he let out a grunt of pain, but he managed to stay on his feet. My hands took the worst of the fall, and I groaned when the broken sidewalk scraped across my palms. A stressed seam on the side of my dress ripped open, and frigid air poured in.
The thick body I’d run into was dressed in black with a silver star clipped to his chest and a gun holstered at his hip. The young, uniformed officer blinked with surprise, and I could only imagine what I looked like to him, gasping for air in a torn dress as I lay in a heap on the concrete.