Page 44 of Rescued By the Mountain Man

She closed her eyes and sternly instructed, “I said drop it, Hamilton. You're not to discuss this anymore, and you’re certainly not to continue digging into this.”

“They're using taxpayer money to run the mob and God knows what else, and you won’t do the right thing and get the attention of the police?” I stood up in disgust. “Are you in their pockets, too?”

“I won't tell you again. You're to drop this—now. Do you want to destroy our newspaper, to drag it down? Who do you think we are? We’re not untouchable like CNN or the New York Post.” She snapped. “And I'm moving you off anything that has to do with politics or people or agencies. Until further notice, you're to shadow Snow.”

“You want me to do gardening?” I gasped. “What?”

“You heard me.” I leapt out of my chair.

“I'm an investigative journalist! It’s my job to look into these things.”

“If you don’t shut up about this, I will have your license suspended. Now get out of here." She jabbed a pen at my face. “Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, Zoe. You're going to end up dead!”

Time jumped…and I was in my bed.

With two thumbs jammed into my throat, cutting off my air. Chest heaving, I blindly flung out my hand, trying to stop whoever was trying to kill me. The self-defense classes that I’d kept putting off? They would’ve come in handy right about now.

I tried to jam my finger into my attacker’s eyes, but I couldn’t see beyond my splitting, doubling vision.

My attacker’s jade green eyes were like ice, and his finger was forced into my mouth. He pulled at my lip, forcing me to open my mouth—most likely to shove a gag inside. He’d forced his thick latex glove into my mouth, and I bit down on it. Hard.

He’d roared and yanked me off the bed, my legs skittering as I landed on the floor, trying to fight him off while he was dragging me out the door. I grabbed the closest thing I could get—a shoe I’d discarded earlier after coming from work—and slapped him in the back of the knee with it.

It didn’t take him down, but he lost his grip. I ran to the bathroom, slammed the door behind me, and yanked the window up. Frantic, I kept looking over my shoulder; he was going to catch me, and when he did, he was going to kill me.

I felt his hand on my throat. He’d choke me to death.

I was halfway through the window when the door behind me crashed in half, a hammer digging a long crack in the middle. He screamed my name, “Zoe! I have a message for you?—”

Another bang. Another tear.

Soon, he would take it off its hinges. Frantic, I wiggled through the window and landed on the fire escape. The steps all blurred into each other and slowly started floating up. I was going to miss a step and go tumbling down. It was a hell of a way down. I was sure to end up dead.

“I’ll never stop looking for you!” the man yelled.

“He’ll find you, and he’ll kill you.”

I tried to remember where the fire escape led to. The lobby? The car park? Certainly not out onto the street. My bare feet landed on the wet sidewalk, and I clutched at my side, at the stitch that was tearing me up, stealing my breath. But I couldn’t afford to stop.

Desperate, I rounded the corner, and in the blink of an eye, I ran into a hard body—one who grabbed me and sneered, “He’ll be so happy when he gets you. Big Billy will be so glad to cut you open?—”

I screamed.

Chapter Fifteen

Warrick

Zara’s scream had me dropping the glass saltshaker, and I took the stairs up, two at a time, and got to the loft as she shot up in bed, grabbing at her throat. I got to her side. “Zara, Zara, baby, look at me!”

Her chest was heaving a mile a minute, and her gaze was still splintered, probably shifting between her nightmare and the present. I drew on my hunting lessons with Dad, but there were no swift movements. Gently, I touched her arm. “Hey, I’m here… Look at me.”

Her eyes snapped to me and recognition sparked in her eyes. “Warrick? Did I?—”

“Let out a bloodcurdling scream that scared me to shit? Yeah,” I replied. “Do you want some water?”

“Maybe something hotter,” she said, eyes dropping to her lap, clearly ashamed about another panic attack in my presence.

“Okay, c’mon.” I helped her out of bed and kept an eye on her as we descended the ladder. When we went to the kitchen, she curled up on the loveseat while I got a kettle on and cleaned up the shattered glass and salt.

---