Page 20 of Protecting Christina

I looked over my shoulder to check if anyone was watching. No one paid any attention to me, so I opened the door. Only an inch.

Then I listened.

Nothing.

Removing my gun from the holster at my waist, I held it in front of me. The door squeaked open as my body squeezed through the entrance. The wooden floors groaned with the first step.

I waved my gun right and then left, looking for anyone inside the house.

My heart beat against my ribcage as I pointed my gun at the dark shadows behind the black velvet couch and around the corners leading to the back of the house.

Christina didn’t strike me as the type to forget to lock her front door. She seemed meticulous and aware of her surroundings. Even if a bit abrupt in her assessment.

For the second time, I worried that perhaps she had met with some unfortunate incident. Had she been injured? Kidnapped? Or worse, murdered?

The thought made my chest constrict. I’d been harsh in my assessment of her. She hadn’t necessarily been gentle with me, either. But, if something had happened to her, I would feel bad. She was a human being after all, if part hellcat, too.

After covering the foyer and the living room, I moved over to the kitchen. Despite trying to tread carefully, the wooden floors announced my every step.

A sound reached my ears from a distance. A muffled noise.

“Hello?” I called out.

The sound grew louder. It came from the right side of the house. I hastened my step and called out again. “Christina?”

What sounded like a stifled scream came from a closed room at the end of the hallway. I raced toward it, but when I tried to turn the knob, it was locked. I checked the top of the doorframe for the key, but there was none there. Someone must have turned the lock from the inside and shut the door.

“Christina!” I called from the closed door. A garbled “yes” came back to me. Without wasting another second, I stepped back and kicked the door open with my boot.

The frame around the door ripped off the wall and shredded pieces of wood flew into the room. I didn’t know what I would find on the other side of the door, but I hadn’t expected this.

I stood bewildered as I stared at Christina. Her eyes rounded for a second as the door crashed open and then she closed them. Her mouth, fastened with gray duct tape, moved, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying.

My eyes roamed over the scene.

Someone, or several people, had taped her against the wall. She was fully dressed, thank God, but I had no idea how long she had been up there.

I rushed over to her and gently pulled off the tape from her mouth. “Are you hurt?”

An angry red mark spread across her face where the tape had been. “Not as bad as my door.”

I stared at her, confused by her reply. Was she making a joke? Or was she genuinely upset about her door?

“Are you going to stand there with your mouth open, or are you finally going to get me down?”

I crossed my arms and stepped back, assessing the situation. “I don’t know,” I said, rubbing my lips. “I’m thinking I might strap this tape back over your mouth.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would. But fortunately for you, I’m a glutton for punishment.”

I smirked at her annoyed expression, but I dropped down to my haunches and ripped off the first piece of tape around her left ankle. She wore tights, which made it less painful for her but trickier for me as the tape stuck like cement over the fabric, pulling out threads and stitching.

“I think you’re going to have to throw these clothes out after I’m through.”

“These were Versace,” she sighed.

“You spent all that money on a pair of tights.”

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