Page 32 of Chasing Amanda

There was a muffled scream.

Mark kicked the door.

The jamb splintered. The door crashed open.

Inside, a man was scrambling to his feet.

Amanda lay beneath him, a broken lamp scattered in jagged pieces all over the floor.

Mark grabbed the guy’s sweatshirt and yanked him away from her.

Amanda scooted back.

Mark smashed the rat’s face against the hardwood floor, then punched him in the kidneys, twice.

The stalker curled in a ball.

To be on the safe side, Mark punched him on the side of his head until he slumped. “If you move”— Mark spoke in his ear—“I’ll kill you.” For good measure, he punched him again.

Keeping his hands on the rat’s neck, he looked at Amanda. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. Then shook her head. Her eyes were wide, her gaze jumping from Mark to the figure on the floor.

“You’re safe.” He scooted to where she leaned against the back of the sofa, pulled off his jacket, and draped it over her. “You’re in shock. Can you tell me what hurts?”

She blinked, shook her head again.

“Okay. It’s okay.” He tucked her against his chest and rubbed her back. “You’re safe now.”

She didn’t speak, though he could feel her trembling.

Two men appeared in the doorway, young enough to be college students. Both wore jeans. One wore a gray sweatshirt, the other a dark blue Johnson & Wales T-shirt. The one in the sweatshirt said, “What happened? Amanda?”

She didn’t even look up.

Mark said, “Call 911.”

“Right.” The T-shirt guy pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed, retreating into the hallway.

Mark spoke to the guy in the sweatshirt. “Get her a blanket, would you?”

“Uh…”

“Try the bedroom.”

“Right.” He disappeared and, a moment later, reappeared with an afghan, the kind someone’s grandmother would knit. “Is this okay?”

“It works.” The kid draped it over her, then stood back, eyeing the figure on the floor warily.

Mark backed up to see Amanda’s face. “Honey, can you tell me what⁠—?”

The figure on the floor lunged for the door.

Sweatshirt guy shifted out of the way.

Mark disengaged from Amanda and tackled the stalker, landing squarely on his back, then slammed his face into the hardwood floor again. “Do you want me to kill you? Because if you move again, I will beat the last breath out of you.” He slammed his head into the floor again. “Do you hear me?”

“Uh-huh.” The sound was wet and gurgled.