Page 34 of Riding the Line
I remembered then that Braxton had told me they had ensured the apartments nearest to me were kept empty. Something about safety, and them being good for surveillance. I thought about how closely he watched me, and I prayed someone was watching now.
My blood was soaking my shirt, making me dizzy. I stumbled, and Daniel smiled.Remember your training.Go low. Lunging for his knees, I managed to knock us both to the ground. Hoping I stunned him, I crawled desperately for the couch. Fuck, I was so close. I felt him grab my ankle and yank me back towards him. I screamed, in rage and in pain, kicking him in the face. A sickening crunch. His nose instantly spurted blood, but he recovered quickly. I didn’t withdraw my leg quick enough, and his face was twisted with a sick kind of joy when he stabbed me in the thigh.
I had been shot before. Punched in the face. Knocked around. I was a cop—I could take a certain amount of abuse. But everyone had their limit, and I was quickly reaching mine. He pinned me to the ground, digging his knee into the wound on my leg, and I couldn’t help the strangled cry that tore from my throat. His nose was definitely broken, and I took a little bit of solace in that. And, from the looks of where my pan had caught him, he would be sporting a black eye tomorrow, too. But at this point, I was more concerned about making sure I saw tomorrow at all.
I thought of Shelly—what I would give for some backup now.
Once again, I found myself underneath him with his hand wrapped around my throat. His knife toyed with the buttons on my shirt and I clawed at his face, getting in a few good swipes before he pressed the blade to my throat.
“Stop fighting me, damnit.”
I laughed drily. “As if.”
My laughter just pissed him off more, and he drove the blade into my shoulder. Between the wound on my stomach, the wound on my leg, and now this… I had to do something, or I was going to die here.
He moved his legs to pin my arms down and cut my top open. A sadistic gleam was in his eye when he said, “What if I cut your heart out and left it for them to find?”
My eyes widened, and he grinned at me. I wasn’t sure if by “them” he meant he knew who I really was, or if he meant Mac and Dalton. Either way, the thought terrified me. Oh, God—everything hurt like hell.
Using every ounce of training I had, every ounce of fight left in me, I pulled my arm out from under him. The sudden movement threw him off balance, giving me just enough time to grab the switchblade from under the couch.
It was a small blade, and I was quickly losing strength, but when he turned to me, I jammed it into his side as hard as I could. He roared and fell backwards, clutching at the handle protruding from under his ribs. I rolled, crying out from the pain that being on my stomach put on my injuries. I only had seconds. I grabbed my phone, which was thankfully on the edge of the table. I had barely hit the buttons for a redial when Daniel stomped over and kicked me as hard as he could. The phone went flying and I screamed in agony. He picked me up, dragging me to the couch.
He leaned down. “Now that you’re a bit more relaxed, why don’t you and I have some fun?”
I screamed again, and again, fighting with every ounce of fading strength I had.
Images flashed in my mind.
The precinct. Faded flooring and flickering fluorescents.
My old apartment, only marginally less dingy than this one.
Laughing at the dinner table with the people I had grown to care for.
The look in Mac’s eyes when he would let his guard down.
Dalton’s easy smile and the way he held me as we watched the sun rise.
I could hear Shelly singing off-tune to an old Shania Twain song.
Through all of that, I felt his hands on me. When he bit me, I didn’t even flinch. He dragged the blade across my collarbone, the scratch offering up small beads of blood. I wanted to fight. Scream. Something.
But all I could do was give in to the black.
*
Maverick
I was almost back to the clubhouse when my phone rang. When I had dropped Vixen off at the door, she had kissed me goodbye. Confident, and sexy as sin, she had put those red lips on mine like she owned them. Little did she know she owned damn near every part of me. She consumed my thoughts. Her laugh, her smile, the sway in her hips when she walked. The way she commandeered the kitchen at meal time. She was a wildfire from the moment we met, and damn if I didn’t relish the burn.
Like my thoughts had summoned her, it was her name on my screen. I answered after the third or fourth ring, determined to maintain the air of indifference I tried keeping up around her. I was sure she saw right through me—but can’t blame a man for trying.
“What now, Vixen?” I frowned when that drawl of hers didn’t immediately come through the other end. “Vixen?”
Silence.
I was fixing to hang up, thinking she had accidentally dialed me, when a sound straight from my nightmares shattered the evening around me. She was screaming. Icould hear the fear and pain in her voice. I recognized the sound because I had heard it dragged from the mouths of more men than I could count. It wasn’t something I was proud of, but I knew the sound of terror by heart. Hearing it from her? For the first time in a very long time, I felt weakened by fear. I could barely think past the all-consuming desperation to get to her.
