Page 3 of Lonely Heart

And now, I was regretting it.

Because I had the day off today and decided to join a woodcarving class early this evening. Surely, I’d find lots of prospects in a class like that. Plus, I might learn enough to be able to make something I could use around my house.

But I’d never know if I would have had any luck, because I wasn’t going to make it to the class. I wasn’t even sure I was going to survive this.

I was in downtown Landing, a couple of blocks away from the center of the city, and I’d parked my car just a short walk away from the facility where the woodcarving class was being held.

I hadn’t gotten very far from my car when a man appeared seemingly out of nowhere and dragged me away from the main walk and down a side street, his hand over my mouth. I fought against him, thrashing my limbs in hopes I’d do something to set him off balance.

It didn’t work.

The sun had set about an hour ago, and down this dark side street, nobody was going to see me.

I’d been thrown up against the side of a building, my head just barely avoiding contact with the brick wall. That was themoment I’d yelled out for help and had been backhanded across the face.

“Give me your purse,” he’d demanded.

I’d instantly complied. There was nothing there worth my life.

The man took it, but he didn’t leave. He didn’t release me and run away in the opposite direction, taking the overwhelming stench of cigarettes and sweat with him.

He’d pushed his body firmly against mine, one of his arms pressing in roughly at my throat and starving me of precious oxygen.

“Please,” I’d begged. “Let me go.”

He didn’t listen. Instead, he’d brought his other hand up and squeezed my breast painfully.

I’d cried out, tears spilling down my cheeks.

“We’re going to have a little fun first,” he’d said, a proud and sinister edge to his voice sending waves of fear and disgust down my spine.

No way was I going to allow this to happen to me. I’d battled against him, pressing my palms powerfully against his torso. He didn’t move. And my attempt to fight him only led to him grabbing both of my wrists in one of his hands while his other hand continued to squeeze and grope my breasts.

I didn’t have the strength to overpower him and free my arms, but I had the use of my legs. So, I’d launched my knee up haphazardly and contacted him somewhere in his groin. It was enough to have him double over and release the hold on my wrists.

Pulse pounding, I didn’t think twice. I’d bolted in the opposite direction, hoping I’d spot someone who could help.

But I hadn’t gotten more than a few strides away when I made the foolish mistake of looking behind me. That gave him just enough time to close the distance between us. His armclamped around my waist and hauled me back, sending me through the air and into a pile of trash bags on the edge of the sidewalk.

My ass had hit the ground hard, and the force of being tossed like that made me dizzy as pain shot up from my tailbone and into my lower back.

If there had been any hope of someone seeing me, that hope was gone. Because now I was obscured by a van on one side of me, a heap of trash bags beneath me, and this man on top of me.

The cold winter air didn’t cut through the sweat on the back of my neck. The remnants of the town’s last snowstorm three days ago couldn’t be felt through the blinding panic I experienced when the man tore at the shirt beneath my unzipped winter jacket, the first few buttons flying every which way.

Fueled by adrenaline, I thrashed my arms and legs against him, ignorant of the aches and pains I’d feel tomorrow if I survived this.

He brought a hand to my throat, squeezing harshly while his other hand went to the fly of my jeans. His body was positioned over my thighs, stifling their movements, and with my oxygen supply running short, I could only seem to focus my hands on attempting to remove his from my throat.

When he unzipped my jeans and began tugging at them, I knew I didn’t have much time left. Not to breathe, and not before he took everything from me.

In a single moment of clarity, I reached my hands up behind my head and grabbed hold of one of the garbage bags. It took every ounce of strength I had, strength I didn’t even know I possessed, and I shoved it as hard as I could against his face.

He became unbalanced, his grip around my throat loosening.

I was going to have one chance to do this. One chance to get away.

When he fell to the side in an attempt to get away from the garbage bag, I scrambled to my feet. He was still down as I reared back with my foot and slammed it as hard as I could into his groin.

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