Page 22 of Under His Guard

Running with everything I have, I go for the stairs.

Just as I’m passing through the doorframe, another hand snakes out of the darkness, grabbing my hair.

He only catches a small chunk because I keep it short, but I still have to tear my head away from him, no doubt leaving a clump of hair clutched in his fingers.

My scalp throbs as I hurry up the metal staircase.

I’m not slow. I train and work out pretty often when I’m not at the hospital. But climbing these stairs feels like I’m trucking through the mud.

Finally, I hit the landing and kick my door hard. Without my bag, I have no keys to get inside, after all.

It bows in, the space by the lock cracking.

It’s not enough, though. Shoving my shoulder against it, I push before backing up and giving the thing another kick.

The door cracks further, and I put all my strength behind another shove, which finally sends it flying open.

“Get back here, bitch!”

I hear the Cobra shouting behind me, but I don’t stop to look. I push inside the apartment and head for the phone on the kitchen wall.

The sound of footsteps on the metal stairs forces me to eye the door as I grab the receiver.

Glancing back at the phone long enough to dial 911, I wait only a second before someone comes on the line.

“911. What’s your emergency?”

The woman’s voice is calm, and I hate her a little for it. But I know she’s not expecting every call to be like this one.

“Someone has broken into my apartment. 9647 Ninth Street. Above Chen’s Antiques.”

“All right, ma’am. Stay calm. Are you somewhere safe?” Her tone stays level, but I can hear the urgency now.

“No. They’re coming up the stairs. I don’t?—”

The man appears at my door, and I scream, letting it out loud enough for the woman to hear on the other end of the line.

But then I drop the phone.

I know I can’t stay there, so I run for the collection of knives I have on the kitchen counter, snagging one just as I hear footsteps running up behind me.

Slashing forward, I land a blow across the guy’s cheek, and I make a run for it, keeping the butcher block under my arm so he can’t use it.

“Whore!”

I manage to dodge past him, and I go for the stairs again. I need to get out of the apartment—it’s too small. The street is populated.

Coming to the landing, there’s a man halfway down the flight, and I throw the knife at him.

My aim is crappy, but it’s enough of a surprise to send the guy tumbling backward.

I zoom forward, running down the stairs until I’m close enough to the ground to jump off and avoid running into him at the bottom.

Hitting the pavement beneath me hard and dropping the butcher block, I make a break for the road out in front of the shop and run face-first into a wall of muscle.

Oh, shit. What now?

Chapter 8

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