Page 44 of Down Knot Out
The detailed knowledge of my building’s security scares me. This is no impulse kidnapping. He’s been planning this, perhaps for years.
Simon steps forward, his grip loosening as he peers into the hallway. “Wait here while I make sure the way is clear.”
For a heartbeat, I’m stunned by his instruction. He’s leaving me in the elevator alone? But his next words clarify.
“Don’t try anything.” His free hand moves to grip the collar of my T-shirt. “I’ll be right in front of the doors. One wrong move, and I’ll drag you out by your hair.”
He steps into the hallway, his back to me but his head turns to keep me in his peripheral vision. Just one step. Two. His fingers clutch the fabric of my shirt, and the close door button is less than an arm’s reach away.
My pulse thunders in my ears, so loud I’m certain Simon must hear it.
“Coast is clear down this way.” Simon takes another half-step forward, his grip on my shirt stretching the fabric so tight it cuts into my neck. “We’ll go?—”
I move before conscious thought forms. My arm snaps up, breaking his hold. In the same motion, I lunge toward the control panel, fingers outstretched toward theClose Doorbutton.
Simon’s reflexes are faster than I expected. He pivots, his face contorted with rage. “No!”
My palm slams on the button. The doors shudder and begin to close with agonizing slowness. Simon lunges forward, his body crossing the threshold as the gap narrows.
I have seconds. Less than seconds. With every ounce of strength I possess, I drive both hands into Simon’s chest. The impact sends shocks of pain up my arms, but Simon’s not braced for it. He stumbles backward into the opposite wall, the back of his head connecting with a sickening thud.
The doors continue their inexorable slide toward each other. Simon pushes himself off the wall, face twisted in fury and disbelief.
He launches himself toward the narrowing gap.
Heart hammering, I shrink into a corner of the elevator. His fingers shove into the shrinking space between the doors, scrambling for purchase.
“Chloe!” he shouts, rage cracking through the air.
The doors touch his fingers, pause, and then begin to retract, the safety feature sensing an obstruction.
Pure panic surges through me. I lunge forward and drive my shoulder into his hands with all my weight behind it.
Simon howls as his fingers are crushed between my body and the door edge. Reflexively, he yankshis hands back, and the doors resume closing, sealing shut with a final definitivethunk.
I collapse backward, gasping for breath. Did I break his fingers? It should horrify me, but instead, savage satisfaction fills me for buying myself precious seconds.
I shake as the elevator continues its descent to the lobby as I imagine Simon racing for the stairs, determined to intercept me. My fingers find the emergency call button, and abuzzsounds, followed by static filling the small space.
Come on,come on. What kind of emergency hotline is this?
Llights up on the display, and I make myself as small a target as possible. If Simon beat me down the stairs, if he’s waiting just outside…
A soft click comes from the speaker, followed by an automated response, “Calling for assistance.”
The doors slide open, revealing a tall figure standing directly in front of the elevator, and I scream before I can stop myself.
Then my brain catches up with what I’m seeing.
“Dominic.” His name comes out as a broken sob.
“Chloe?” He takes in my disheveled appearance, the terror etched on my face. “What happened? I heard?—”
I launch myself into his arms, my body colliding with his solid chest. His citrus-and-musk pheromones fill my nostrils, replacing the artificial vanilla-and-pine that had suffocated me.
His arms close around me, strong and secure. “What happened?”
“Simon. He was dressed as the delivery man. He tried to take me,” I choke out, the words tumbling out in a disjointed stream. “Second floor. Stairs. He might be coming.”
