Page 69 of Savage Seduction

I open it and sift through the contents. Box cutter, screwdriver, and duct tape. There isn’t much else of use inside. “There won’t be much time. I have a feeling the intruders have split up. One standing guard at the back door to stop us from escaping while the other is sneaking up here as we speak.”

“How do you know?” she asks.

“It’s a feeling I have, plus, it’s what makes the most sense. When I was a cop, I heard so many stories about home invasions from the victims. They were sitting ducks when they tried to escape. The ones who managed to make it past the first guy would be taken out by the one waiting at the back door.”

“Fine, but hurry. Tell me what to do.” Her voice is escalating in both volume and urgency. She grabs the needle nose pliers out of the box. “I can stab him in the eyes?”

I smile and hug her. “Take those and put them in your back pocket.”

London does as I instructed.

“Now take this screwdriver.”

She grips it in her hand like she’s going to shiv someone in the belly, striking upward.

“No like this,” I say, readjusting it in her hand so she can make a downward stabbing motion. “You’ll have a better grip like this and more power.” I then take the duct tape and start affixing it, beginning at her wrist as an anchor point and then secure the makeshift weapon into her hand.

“Why’d you tape me up?”

“He can’t kick it out of your hand this way. Plus, when blood starts to flow things get slippery. Trust me.” I look her in the eyes and see the realization settle across her face.

She swallows hard and nods.

A creak of floorboards outside her bedroom makes us both jump. There's no more time to prepare. I put my finger up to my lips, indicating to remain quiet, and then point to the left side of the door. She moves silently over to the assignedposition. I look behind me at the folding chair by the computer. I could shove it under the doorknob, but since we aren't trying to escape, what's the point? We need to fight. We need to win. If not for ourselves, for Nana.

I press my back against the wall on the right side of the door and turn to London. Her eyes are wide and her mouth agape. Despite my own rising fear, I feel a twinge of sadness for her. She doesn’t deserve this. London and her nana don’t deserve to be in this position where their lives hang in the balance. My determination to succeed steels in that moment.

I reach for the little turn-lock on the doorknob and pause. Our eyes meet and London brings the screwdriver up over her head and nods. She's ready. I unlock the door.

A few seconds pass in silence when the doorknob turns. I motion to London who widens her stance. The door cracks open and I slash at the intruder’s wrist. The blade hits bone, but the man shoves forward fast enough to prevent me from getting a decent slice in.

As the man stumbles into the room, I rush him and London slams the door closed from behind, locking it. There isn’t much of a blade for me to work with and I need to be in the perfect position to do any real damage. Hand-to-hand combat is now inevitable. I drop the box cutter and leap on the man’s back, putting him in a headlock and then using my other arm to help tighten my grip—classic sleeper hold.

The intruder has his own ideas. Well over six foot tall, shoulders broad as a barn, he's strong and prepared for a fight. He swivels around and slams himself backward against the nearest wall. The impact rocks my body hard enough to loosen my grip, but not enough to shake me completely off his back. I hold on with my legs around the large man’s waist and scramble to regain my hold around the man’s neck.

Seconds feel like minutes, and I'm weakening. The man now reaches above his head and grabs a fistful of my hair inone hand and tightens fingers around my neck with the other. I cough and gasp for air but refuse to let go.

London charges forward and stabs down in a hatchet motion, the blade sinking deep into the man’s chest. I feel the man shudder under the intense unexpected pain. She tries to pull the screwdriver back out, but the suction from the wet wound is too great. She now fights against the man, pulling back with both hands, trying to free herself.

I take advantage of the sudden change in focus and pull the man’s hand away from my throat and use my own to squeeze his trachea. The man sways under my weight and his new injuries. With a loud grunt, London manages to pull the screwdriver free of his chest, blood spurting out with each heartbeat.

I can feel the huge man's throat closing under my grip, the air struggling past the narrowed tube. He sinks to the floor where London once again plunges the screwdriver into his back, this time hitting rib bones, preventing her from doing significant damage.

She jumps onto the man's back and holds the weapon up with both hands, ready to plunge it into his neck when I stop her. Her eyes are wide with a crazed fear I recognize from my time on the force. People being put into positions of life and death don’t often have the ability to rationalize or think about what they’re about to do. I grab for duct tape and wrap the man's hands behind his back. I then secure his feet together. Bending his knees, I am able to secure his hands and feet together into a hogtie.

“What are you doing?” London asks. “We have to take him out.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want you to take a life if you don’t have to.” I roll the guy over onto his side to make sure he can breathe freely. “Let’s get that piece of shit downstairs andthen call the police. Might be good to have them in custody so we can find out who the hell they are.”

She nods and steps over the body, kicking him in the gut and stomping on the side of his face. London holds up her taped hand for me to inspect it. “Tighten me up.”

I wrap another layer of the duct tape over what was there to keep it secure and firmly in place. I grab the pillowcase from the bed and wipe the blood from her arms, face and weapon. “You good?”

She nods. “Let’s finish this.”

Boxcutter in hand, I motion for her to follow me. We sneak over to the bedroom door and open it, checking each direction of the hallway before exiting the room. We tiptoe to the stairway where we hear Nana.

“Baby? What’s going on up there?” Nana hollers from her room, and I freeze.

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