Page 12 of Come For Me
She knew everyone here, even the janitors. Even the tenants in the suites in the lower three floors. This man was a stranger—and a dangerous one, dress clothes or not.
Recognition, then satisfaction flashed across the man’s face, and when he laughed, Olivia shivered.
“Damn, look what I found.” His tongue stroked across his half-hidden lips, leaving behind a slick gleam. “Who are you?”
He wanted to carry on a freaking conversation? “Get away from me!”
He ignored her demand, his hard eyes running over her like a dirty washrag, lips smirking. “Sure.” Then he lunged.
Olivia didn’t wait. The blast of disinfectant hit the man point-blank in the face. He reared back, fingers digging into his eye sockets as his howling filled the room.
Too loud, too loud, too loud!
One big paw of a hand reached for her. Instinct brought her arm up to block him, slapping his hand away. She couldn’t let him touch her, couldn’t stand his fingers on her skin, her body.
The man roared his anger, spittle flying. “Come’ere, bitch!”
Her lungs seized up, but her body didn’t need air; it worked on instinct without it, without time to think. She saw the threat in his eyes, the determination to hurt her as much as possible. In a split second her back hand came up, fork clenched hard inside her fingers.
She bit back a sob. Far too slow and yet so, so fast, the fork arced through the thick air, a blade slogging through mud with deadly intent. Light flashed off the tines as it went from the shadow of the fridge to the glare of the room, and then it sank deep into the man’s neck, right below the ragged edge of his beard.
Right into his jugular.Thank you, target practice.
She tried to ignore the rubbery feel of resistance as she forced the fork as far into his neck as she could. Blood popped out like she’d speared a juicy piece of fruit, splattering her face. A quick jerk back and she sank the fork in a second time, earning a pained grunt from the man, as if his body only now registered the ripping and tearing of flesh. His hands released their hold, his muscles going limp and heavy.
He landed directly on her. Olivia’s head slapped the wall behind her as he shoved her backward, the lapels of his sport coat opening to enfold her, cage her, smother her. His body pinned hers. She closed her eyes and tried not to gag—until the hard pooch of his belly made contact with hers; the obscene intimacy was more than she could endure. A hard push sent him toppling to the floor like a rag doll.
She stood there against the wall, panting and fighting the urge to throw up, for a long time. When she could force herself to look down, she saw him sprawled on the floor, fork sticking from the side of his throat, blood spreading in a dark red stain below his head. Those mean eyes stared at the ceiling, wide and blanked of everything but shock. She looked, tried to process what was before her, the fact that she’d killed this man, taken his life, but it seemed unreal. Impossible. It couldn’t have—
A faint choke came from his still form. His throat worked, the barest of movements, like he was trying to swallow. And then a moan of air escaped his lungs. The last breath he would ever release.
Olivia threw up on his legs.
