He groaned and loosened his hold.
She screamed again, frantically fighting him.
He grabbed something from his pocket, and then silver glinted. The blade was instantly against her neck, and she stilled, gasping for breath and trying to see his eyes. “Stop,” he hissed.
She stopped fighting and sought an opening. With the blade against her neck, she couldn’t move without getting cut. Even so, if he wanted her dead, he would’ve already sliced her throat. Panic heated through her, and her head buzzed. She blinked several times, grounding herself in the moment—so she could fight.
He yanked what looked like heavy tape from his back pocket.
The outside door crashed open, and they both jumped. The knife pricked her skin, and warm blood ran down her neck. She gasped and tried not to move as the pain slid through her. How deep was the cut?
He partially turned his head. “Shit. Plan B, then.” He lifted the knife and plunged the blade toward her chest.
She twisted at the last minute and lifted her arm. Pain slashed through her, and blood arced. She screamed again, and darkness swam across her vision.
Then he jumped off her and pivoted, the knife glinting in the dim light. Two bodies impacted with a deep thud. A grunt of pain echoed through the room. Something hard hit the floor, sounding like it smashed the wooden planks in two.
Everything swam around her and then went dark, barely coming back into focus, her stomach lurching. What was happening? She needed to run. Her arm and neck hurt, and she felt dizzy. Even so, she tried to shove herself to a seated position, ready to kick out again if needed.
Bosco was instantly by her side, leaning down, holding his stomach with one hand, his other to his ear with a phone. He barked a bunch of words that sounded garbled. He slid the phone somewhere out of her vision, bent over, and grabbed her pillow to press against her arm.
Pain bloomed through her, and she cried out.
“Hold on, baby. You’ll be okay.” He leaned to the side and twisted on her antique milk glass lamp. Soft light illuminated his fierce eyes and bare torso.
She caught sight of blood across his abdomen. The entire room wavered and darkened.
Then she passed out cold.
Bosco saton the examination table as the doctor finished stitching up his abs. Fury continued to run through him, but he remained still, listening intently in case Marlie needed him again. She was in the adjoining room, also being stitched up.
Detective Grant Pierce loped into the room, his casual jeans and sweater showing he’d been called out of bed. His blond hair was messy, and his green eyes were sharp. They’d run into each other several times last year or so because of Anna, and he seemed like a good cop. “How bad?”
“Just ten stitches,” Bosco muttered. “How is Marlie?”
“Minor cuts on biceps and neck. Right now, she’s getting stitches in her upper arm,” Pierce said, pulling a worn notebook out of his back pocket. “I’m talking to you first. Tell me what happened from your perspective.”
Bosco ran him through the events of the night, from hearing Marlie scream to having the blade cut across his abs.
“Was the guy stabbing or slicing?” Pierce asked casually.
“He tried to stab me, I countered, and he ended up just cutting me,” Bosco said, holding back a wince as the doctor set a bandage in place over his wound. “He was more than ready to kill, and he wore a ski mask and gloves. I didn’t recognize anything about him.” Bosco pushed off the table. “I saw him try to kill Marlie, but she twisted and took the knife in the arm instead of the chest.” It was a sight he’d never forget. “Then he stabbed me, I threw him into the door, and I had to call you and cover her wound. Couldn’t go after the guy.”
Pierce’s eyebrows rose. “Any chance you hurt him?”
“Yeah,” Bosco said, his ears heating with his temper. “I heard a bone break. Best guess is shoulder or arm because he was able to run out of there.” He shook his legs out to stabilize his balance.
“We’ll call it into all local hospitals and emergency care facilities,” Pierce said, taking notes. “Description?”
Bosco cleared his mind to think. “Shorter than me by a couple of inches, so probably six feet. He had a slight beer gut but was strong, and he smelled like deodorant. No visible scars or tattoos, and he was quick with the knife but not trained or I’d be bleeding more than I am right now. He dropped duct tape on the floor when he fled.”
Pierce nodded. “I have a team at her apartment now. How long has Marlie lived next to you?”
“Almost two weeks,” Bosco said. “She just moved here, and from what she’s said, I don’t think she was fleeing from anybody. She has a new job at the college that’ll start the second semester. A professor named Mark was at the bar the other night. He seemed interested in her.”
Pierce nodded. “All right. I’ll follow up with her on that. For now, do you know of any reason somebody would want to hurt your neighbor?”
“There was another guy who got handsy with her after a date. His name was Turner, but this wasn’t Turner. He has a narrow chest and no beer belly.” Bosco shook his head. “Other than that, she has been seen with Anna more than once.”
