Page 60 of The Woman in the Garage

Only to find the space now abandoned.

Was I wrong?

Had it just been a normal robbery? Someone who thought the place was closed and saw an opportunity to steal something? But when they found someone hanging around, they panicked and ran?

I debated the merit of staying inside my office, locking the door, and calling the police.

But it was a rickety old door. And there was no other exit from the room. I’d be trapped.

If no one was around, making a mad dash for an exit was the best bet. If I saw even a shadow dancing across the wall, though, I’d lock myself in.

Decision made, I inched around the door.

My heartbeat was thrumming in my chest as a slow trickle of blood continued to drip. I tried to keep my lips closed, making the drops slide down my chin and catch on my chest, but when I tried to suck in air through my nostrils, blood slipped down the back of my throat, choking me.

Sucking in a greedy open-mouth breath, I leaned my head out of the doorway.

The blow came from the side, whacking me hard enough on the back of the neck to make me fall to my knees.

The impact had pain ratcheting up through my thighs and hips, dragging a cry out of me.

But I couldn’t stop to worry about my knees, about hospital trips and recovery.

There would be no recovering if I couldn’t get away.

I scrambled away on all fours, wanting to put as much distance between us as possible. Grit ripped at my palms and legs, raking across my skin, mingling with the grease and grime on the floor.

Behind me came a dark chuckle, making my belly flip, realizing they were enjoying my panic, my pathetic attempt at escape.

There was a load-bearing beam to my side; I reached out toward it, ready to pull myself up off the floor. When a foot landed a kick to my ass, sending me flying forward.

And with my arm outstretched, there was no bracing my fall.

I’d cursed being top-heavy any time I tried to buy new clothes. But just this once, I was glad for being well-endowed in the chest area, as my chest cushioned my fall, preventing my whole face from whacking off the unforgiving cement floor.

As it was, my forehead cracked off the floor slightly, making my vision swim for a horrifying second.

But I didn’t pass out.

I had to get up.

I had to get away.

Ignoring the pain in my ripped-up palms and my aching knees, I pushed up onto all fours again.

There was a door across the shop.

I was halfway there.

I just had to get to my feet and run for my life.

Throw the locks.

Rush outside.

Scream like a freaking banshee.

Run right into the street if I had to.

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