Page 64 of The Woman in the Garage

I wanted his arms to wrap me up and tell me it was going to be okay, that I wasn’t alone.

I couldn’t let this asshole take all of that from me.

On a roar I wouldn’t have thought myself capable of until that moment, I brought my hands and knees up against the wall, shoving off of it like a springboard, sending me rolling onto my back.

On her back with a scary man looming over her was not a position a woman typically wanted to put herself in.

But at least this way, I had my legs and arms to fight with.

Hell, I had my teeth if I needed them.

Gone was the woman who, just moments before, hadn’t thought I was capable of stabbing a pen through someone’s eye.

I would bite this bastard’s nose off with my damn teeth if I needed to. I would rip his ears off with my bare hands. I would hook my fingers into his eye sockets andscoophis eyes out.

The promise of more time with Santo and the rage I felt because this man was trying to keep me from that mingled together, creating something noxious, something really dangerous. A pissed-off woman.

I kicked high with one leg, wanting him to focus on that one as my other leg aimed lower, landing true.

A roar escaped him as my heel collided with his crotch, and I actually felt my lips curve up as I scrambled backward while he cupped his dick, his body bent forward, gasping for breath.

Good.

I hoped it hurt.

I hoped I broke the damn thing.

I hoped he could never use it again.

I got myself up onto my knees, was about to spring to my feet.

Just as I put one foot flat on the floor, though, his arm shot out, hand grabbing me around the throat, cutting off what little air I was getting.

My fingers clawed at his hands, praying at his fingers.

My face was starting to feel tingly, my lips numb. There was a burning in my chest that had panic surging through me.

I don’t know where it came from—some movie about a kickass heroine, or some social media post teaching self-defense—but an idea dredged up from the depths of my memory. And suddenly, I was raising both my arms, clasping my hands, turning my arms, then bringing my elbow down with as much force as I could muster onto the man’s forearm.

The second of impact, his hand released my neck.

I gasped desperately for air, but there was no time to pause.

With renewed determination, I leapt to my feet with an agility I didn’t know I was capable of, turned, and ran.

Or, well, tried to run.

I got two feet before a hand grabbed a bunch of my hair by the ends, yanking back viciously.

Pain screamed across my scalp as my hands went back instinctively, grabbing my hair above his grip to ease the ache.

More tears streamed down my cheeks as desperation had me moving forward, despite the pain.

Close.

I was so damn close to the front door. To freedom. To help.

Even as I looked, I saw the flash of headlights in the road, traffic steadily moving down the road. People heading home to their loved ones, to meals on the table, to everything I wanted.

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