Page 71 of Wrecked
Piper lunged inside and slammed the door shut. The deadbolt did its thing, and she latched the security chain. The handle turned, the door jiggling, then stopped. She struggled to catch her breath. Never in her life had she been this terrified. If this guy really wanted in, it would be as easy as one well-placed kick.
Her chest felt tight, like she’d just run a marathon. She yanked open the kitchen drawers and pulled out a knife, the biggest one she could find. Edging up to the window, she peered out.
A ski mask–covered face came forward from the shadows and pressed against the glass. She screamed and dove to the kitchen floor.
Her phone was on the ground outside. No one knew she was in trouble, and it had become obvious that Cole wasn’t coming home anytime soon.
She was going to die in his apartment.
Crawling to the end of the cabinets, she scrambled back and faced the door, clutching the knife in both hands.
Cole felt his pockets. Shit. “Let me get my phone. I left it in the car.”
Deke waited while he unlocked the door. His phone sat on the passenger seat, light flashing, alerting him to either a missed call or message.
He checked the screen.
Piper.
Thank God. Maybe she hadn’t written him off completely. Punching in the code he held it to his ear.
It was quiet for a few seconds, and he thought for a moment she’d decided against leaving him a message, until he heard a loud sound, like something smashing. Like smashing glass? There was a pause, rustling, then, “Ohgodohgodohgod.” Piper’s panicked chant echoed down the line with a lot of static like the phone was rubbing against something.
Then she screamed, high and full of fear.
Cole stumbled forward, bracing himself against the car. He’d gotten to her. The fucker had gotten to her.
“What do you want? God, p-please don’t hurt me.” Her voice was clear but distorted with terror.
“Fuck. No.”
Deke was at his side in an instant, and he forced himself to hold it together long enough to tell him what was going on. They jumped in the car, and Deke drove while Cole called 911.
Jesus. He’d left her there all on her own. She’d had a prowler a few nights ago, and he’d been so wrapped up in himself, in his own shit, he’d left her unprotected. “Fuck.” He pounded the dashboard.
If anything happened to her…
She had to be all right. She had to be. He couldn’t lose her as well.
Not Piper.
They arrived at Axle Alley before the police, and Cole was out of the car before it fully came to a stop. He used his key and raced inside, Deke right behind him. Cole went straight to her room. Everything looked the same. The same as when he’d left that morning. Fuck, he could still smell her strawberry scent.
Deke walked in behind him, breathing ragged. “Window’s smashed. There’s blood. Jesus, Cole, there’s blood.”
Cole picked up the lamp beside the bed and threw it against the wall.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Piper had no idea how long she’d been sitting on the floor, waiting for that door to come crashing in. The silence was deafening, her labored breaths the only sound she could hear. No dark face hovered at the window anymore, but still she couldn’t move, couldn’t let go of the knife. Her fingers ached from gripping it so tightly.
Voices broke through the silence suddenly, drifted up from the parking lot below. She thought she’d heard a car earlier, but she’d been too afraid to move.
Crawling toward the bench, she climbed up slowly and peered out. He was gone. And then she saw Cole’s car was parked outside her house. Cole and Deke were on her front lawn.
Her knees went weak with relief, and she almost crumpled back to the floor.
They must have scared him off when they pulled up.
