Page 109 of One Secret

I take a deep breath and think of the life inside me. The daughter I'm responsible for. The one who cannot defend herself.

I'm all she has.

With a growling cry, I pull back hard against my ties.

This time, a blessed tearing noise pierces the air. The sheet holds on until riiip, it pops free and my arm pinwheels over my head.

I don't pause to breathe. With my now free hand, I scramble for my knife as fast as I can.

I'm a sitting duck stuck on the ground so I dive to free my ankles first.

Another smash to the door and the lock finally springs free. The battered panelling flies wide open and a sickly yellow light floods the room.

'Well, this isn't what I was expecting...' A hulking shadow steps inside and kicks the door until its ragged shape sticks back into its frame. 'But I'm not complaining...

One ankle free!

The second is more awkward and I struggle to reach... Dammit, I should have freed my other wrist first! It was the wrong call.

And I know only too well how a single mistake in the field is fatal.

The mercenary comes stalking into the suite, his gait predatory and a cruel smile in his voice.

'I knew something was up with you and this "Ghost". People like him don't come begging for work. Felix's too blinded by his greed to see it.'

Ignore him. Focus!

With the knife already under the binding, I don't have time to change my mind. I work the knife hard. The fabric tears a millimeter at a time...

'So,' the hitman skirts the end of the bed and he's suddenly at my feet. I feel his shadow spreading over my shoulder, blocking the moonlight, and turning my skin to ice. A heavy cylinder locks into place in my peripheral; the barrel of his gun leveling at my head. 'I'll get rid of you. Find the evidence I need. And then have your boyfriend dead to rights. Emphasis on dead.'

He cocks his gun.

The bindings spring free.

I spin with more speed than accuracy but it's enough. I slip out of the chair and onto the carpet, throw my arm up and over my head, and send the chair I'm still attached to hard into the hitman's side.

'What the—shit!'

His aim is thrown wide and the soft pew of his silencer whizzes past my left ear.

The collision of heavy man and sturdy wooden chair has him toppling sideways and me dragged after by the momentum. He scrambles for his gun and I kick at his hands whilst reaching for my last bound wrist. I scratch myself in my hurry, stub my toe against his arm, and can't catch my breath. But I don't care. My only focus is freeing myself, so I can either make a run for it or go on the defensive.

Just a little more... Yes!

Breaking free, I grab the chair, now missing a leg, and aim one of the remaining wheels at the killer's head.

He ducks to avoid me, giving me the chance to dive for my knife and then rush to my feet.

'You bitch!'

He's quicker than he looks.

As soon as I'm standing, he's already vertical and re-aiming his weapon in my direction.

Training I've not needed in years kicks in and I strike out hard and fast. Hand to the wrist, drive to the elbow. A sharp and efficient disarming.

'What the—!'

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