Page 20 of Parker

Though she was aware of those things happening, Quinn hadn’t seen any of it with her own eyes. She was too busy studying the person staring back at her.

Dressed in head-to-toe black, the intruder was close to six feet in height and obviously male. There was something clasped in one of his gloved fists, but she couldn’t tell what it was.

He moved toward her, the motion fast-forwarding Quinn back into real time. Her heart pounded against her ribs when the man came even closer. First one booted step, and then another.

Think, Quinn! You can make it out of this, if you just think!

Even though it was damn hard to do, she fought the urge to run. Using skills she’d learned during a brief stint living on the streets, back in the day, Quinn took a calming breath and a few seconds she didn’t have to consider her options.

It didn’t take long for her to realize only one offered her any real chance of escaping.

Her fingers twitched as the man began closing in on her. The timing had to be perfect. A second too soon or too late could make the difference between survival and death.

And she hadn’t come this far just to let some sick bastard kill her in her own kitchen.

Muscles tensed and her posture grew rigid as Quinn’s heartbeat thrashed inside her ears. Tendrils of fear wrapped their meaty claws around her heart and squeezed, but she didn’t dare give in.

Not yet…not yet…just a few more inches, and…

Now!

In one fluid motion, she raised her right arm, twisted it palm-out, and grabbed the wine bottle by its neck. With her next breath, Quinn swung the makeshift weapon around as hard as she could.

A dull, sickening thud filled the otherwise silent space as the bottle’s thick glass connected with the man’s head. He grunted in pain, the force of the unexpected blow sending him stumbling to the side.

Though he fought against it, the man’s flailing arms did nothing to prevent his legs from crumbling beneath him. Eyes rolling in the back of his head, the man fell to the floor, taking a barstool down with him in the process.

From where she stood, Quinn couldn’t tell if he was still breathing. And unlike the lead characters in those cheesy, cozy mystery movies she secretly loved to watch, she wasn’t about to endanger herself further by moving in closer to check for a pulse.

What shediddo was run.

3

As fast asher quivering legs would take her, she ran past the fallen man, out the kitchen and into the small entryway before racing through the door leading to her garage. Skipping the bottom step, Quinn pulled the keys from her jeans pocket and flung open her car door.

Locking herself inside, she slapped her hand against the remote clipped to her visor. The garage door’s motor hummed to life as she inserted the key into her car’s ignition.

With a hard twist, the engine’s roar consumed the enclosed space. At the same time, the door to her left burst open, splinters of wood flying in all directions as her attacker reappeared.

Standing a bit unbalanced, he raised his right hand. And this time, the item in his fist was clear to see.

Gun!

A few slivers of wood skidded across the hood of Quinn’s car, but she was too busy shoving the vehicle into reverse—and slamming her socked foot down onto the gas pedal—to notice. She also didn’t care that the garage door was less than halfway up.

With her foot planted firmly on the gas, she squeezed the steering wheel with both fists and prepared for impact. The car jolted, her upper body flinging back against her seat as its rear end smashed against the half-raised metal door.

A loud banging and the sound of metal bending and scraping surrounded her. Quinn flinched, but she didn’t dare stop.

Knuckles white and heart racing, she forced her way through the half-hanging door. The space around her darkened as she slid beneath the broken and twisted barrier, and when the front bumper cleared those final few inches, Quinn bolted down the paved driveway and into the street.

She pushed the gearshift into drive, her tires squealing with the sudden change in direction. Risking a quick glance through the passenger window, she looked up in time to see the masked man staring back at her from the shadows.

He made no move to give chase or raise his weapon, but rather stood there. Watching with an eerie, almost ominous look in his cold, emotionless eyes.

He could have killed you.

Quinn sped down the road with no particular destination in mind. With her fight-or-flight responses still at the helm, she blew out several long, forceful breaths to keep from hyperventilating.

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