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“Fuck you. You’ll never find her.”
That did it.
He leaped straight up onto the counter and rushed forward.
Gripping the knife tightly in my hand, I pulled it out just as his fist connected with my cheek. The force threw me to the right, and I slammed into the refrigerator, the sharp blade slipping through my fingers before clattering to the linoleum floor. I dropped to my knees, blinking through the tears, my hand searching for the cold metal.
“Tell me,” he ordered, and the floor beneath me shook as he jumped down from the counter.
The knife!
It kept slipping from my grip because something slick coated my hand.
I was too focused on his footsteps as they came up behind me, holding my breath and fighting the urge to run.
“I’ll find her,” he whispered, grabbing my hair and jerking my head back so I was looking up at him. “With or without you.”
“Over my dead body.”
It only took a split second.
With one swift movement, I jammed the six-inch blade straight into the center of his stomach, burying it to the hilt with a warrior-like scream I wasn’t expecting.
He released me, stumbling backward. His eyes grew wide, the exposed whites glistening in the light while his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. I guess that’s kind of what he was. This man was trained to hurt people, trained to use his strength to get what he wanted from them. He wasn’t used to things not going this way. He was a man who obviously never lost.
Until now.
The shocked look on his usually emotionless face was a little satisfying, although it changed quickly. Before I could get to my feet, he was rushing at me again, only now it was more of a desperate stumble.
The only thing near me was the fridge.
I opened it hard, and he hit it with a heavy thud.
The half-empty wine bottle in the door screamed at me, and I grabbed it by the neck, using the door to help me to my feet, though my head was spinning and the room was tilting, making me feel like I was on a ship.
“How dare…” He heaved, his words no longer sharp or strong. He clung to the counter, one hand wrapped around the knife handle like he was trying to decide whether or not to rip it out. His chest was rising and falling heavily, each breath looking harder than the last. “They will come…” His legs slipped out from under him, and his head connected with the countertop as he sank down.
The sound he made when he hit the floor was like nothing I’d heard before.
The squeak of the linoleum as his shoes slipped through the blood.
The thud of his lifeless body.
I held the wine bottle like a weapon, slowly stepping back toward the door, watching him carefully, though I was fairly sure I could no longer see his chest moving. I didn’t put my weapon down, though. I kept it at the ready until I got to my handbag and reached inside. My phone was hard to grab, and when I finally managed to pull it out, I realized how much blood was on my hands, though I had no idea whose it was.
His or mine.
“Dammit!” I cursed, struggling to get the screen to work but finally managing to pull uphisname.
The second I saw it on the screen, I sucked in a sharp breath, tears breaking free.
They will come.
I put the phone to my ear, counting the rings and trying to hold my breath so that when he finally answered, I could actually speak.
“Hey, baby.”
A sob escaped my mouth that I couldn’t stop. “I killed someone.”
