Page 99 of The Woman in the Garage

David was just as quick, though, throwing his arm in the opening, preventing me from closing and locking it.

I shoved my weight against the door. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to keep him out. Our last encounter showed me that when it came to one-on-one fighting, he was going to have the upper hand.

But I had other strengths here.

Like knowing the layout.

Like knowing where the knife drawer was.

Where the eye gouger and pepper spray that Dom had dropped off for me were sitting.

Where the exits were.

Where, even, Santo kept a spare gun, already loaded.

Granted, I still didn’t actually know much about guns—let alone my ability to use one effectively—but I figured point and shoot couldn’t be all that hard.

But before I made a mad dash toward any of those ways to get free or stand and fight, I needed to reach behind the door and hit the emergency button on the security panel.

Two nights before, we’d been leaving to go pick up some supplies for dessert; Santo had paused and shown me the control panel for the security system.

He’d showed me how to arm it for when I wanted to leave the house—and how long I had to get out of the house before the alarm started to ring. He gave me the passcode for the unlikely event that I didn’t get out fast enough and the security company called the house.

And, more so than anything else, he’d explained to me a nifty feature he’d had installed that I’d never even heard of before.

There was a button on the side of the panel that, when pressed for three seconds, triggered an emergency alert to everyone in Santo’s Family, letting them know that something bad was going down.

He assured me that if anyone got that alert, they would drop everything to rush to the house.

Armed.

Ready to do whatever it took to help.

Behind my back, the door pressed forward, making me dig in my heels and press harder against it. My already aching thighs cried out at the strain as my arm stretched out, trying to reach the side of the security panel.

“Come on,” I grumbled. But my fingertips just didn’t quite touch.

I had a choice to make.

Keep trying to bar the door.

Or hit the button and get some help on the way.

There was really no choice at all.

I’d barely survived one fight with David. I was terrified he would come at me harder if given another chance.

Sucking in a steadying breath, I moved another foot over, lessening my hold on the door, but finally allowing my finger to press into the emergency button.

There was a quiet beep that told me the alert had been triggered.

With that, I looked toward the dining room.

All I had to do was get through there and into the kitchen.

There I would have another exit.

Knives.

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