Page 38 of Beautiful Secrets
I’ll do it in the tub. Less to clean up.
I throw open the bedroom door, my face twisting into a snarl. I can already picture Mika screaming, and it’s doing unpleasant things to my stomach.
But the bed is empty.
Mika is gone.
14
Mika
Inever realized how intoxicating Cole’s smell was until I found myself surrounded by it. I’m hiding behind his row of suits, holding onto a letter opener and willing my heart to stop hammering so hard.
It’s a pathetic weapon, but I’ve heard of men killing with pencils, so it will do. Now that I know where the keycard is, all I need is to incapacitate Cole long enough to get it out of his pocket.
I flinch when the bedroom door slams open.
My hand tightens around the smooth handle—hot how I have been clenching it.
Breathe, Mika. You can do this. Just go for the eyes.
Such pretty eyes, but I don’t have a choice. It’s him or me. Survival of the fittest, cruelest…nastiest.
There’s a strange sound.
A drawn-out scrape, like metal against something hard.
“I guess the best way to keep my little rabbit from running away,” Cole calls out, “is to chop off her little paws.”
I yelp in surprise when he slams open the door to the walk-in closet.
There’s a butcher’s knife dangling from his hand. My stomach turns cold, and my bones become jelly.
He’s going to kill me.
Cole stalks up to the closet, to the suits I’m cowering behind, and drags them aside to reveal me.
I stab out with the letter opener, putting as much of my weight behind it as I can. It hits solid flesh…and slides in right to the fucking handle.
We stare at each for a beat. Are my eyes as wide as his?
Cole staggers back with a muttered, “Christ, woman.”
The letter opener is sticking out of his left arm, just above the bicep. A dark circle of blood soaks through the fabric of his shirt and begins to spread.
Move!
I ram into him, not even expecting to push him out of the way, but he’s between me and the doorway, so I have to try. But he staggers, falls onto his side, and cries out when he hits the ground with his injured arm.
I’m beside him in a flash, my hand in his pants pocket.
He tries to grab me, but his hand is coated with blood, and I twist free easily before yanking the keycard out of his pocket.
My heart soars. I feel giddy, weightless, invulnerable as I race for the elevator door.
“Mika, stop! Please! I’ll bleed out!”
The slapping of my feet on the tiles slows. I stop. Glance over my shoulder. Cole is crawling over the carpet, dragging himself with his good arm.
