He starts coming around the table, but I don’t wait for him to get to me, running the opposite way. I sprint for the open door, but his boots are thundering against the floor after me. There’s a rustle, and then something brushes against the loose strands of my hair. A choked noise of terror escapes as I duck my head before he can close his fist.
I make it through the door, lunging for an empty pot and whirling around, screaming when I realize just how close he is. I don’t hesitate, bringing the pot down on his head with a resounding crack.
He falls back with a loud curse as ceramic pieces shower over him. I’m already on the move, snatching my phone as I round the counter, jamming my fingers against the side button to initiate an emergency call.
“Come on, come on, come on…” It goes through, a tinny voice squawking through the speaker, and I open my mouth, still running?—
“You fucking whore!” There’s a whoosh before sharp agony slices down my back, leaving a trail of fire. I shriek, the sound blasting through my own head. I fall forward, arms flailing, but his hand is in my hair, ruthlessly yanking me back.
It feels like pain has taken over my body. I shove it down, knowing I can’t let it distract me.No one’s coming. Not in time.If I want to make it out of this alive, I have to do something.Anything.
I spin in his hold, pulling several strands of hair out in the process. Before he can react, I slam my palm up against his mask-covered nose and then lift my knee, nailing him in the balls.
A high-pitched keening noise leaves him, nasally and broken. He’s surprised enough that he lets me go, and before he recovers, I’m flipping the lock on the front door and escaping outside, yelling into my phone, “Help! I’m being attacked! Please help!”
CHAPTER 31
Braxton
“Dad,” I say with infinite patience, dragging each word out to ensure he hears them and plans accordingly. “Mom will notice that her air fryer is missing. She uses it almost every day.”
My father hums absent-mindedly, his wrist still twisting the screws on the bottom panel of the appliance. “I’m not doing anything to it that she won’t like.” A beat later, and his head rises, mouth tugging down. “That sounded like something out of Analise’s books.”
I freeze, my eyes wide. “What is she reading? And more importantly…how wouldyouknow?”
I don’t know that I’ve ever seen my father blush until this moment, his eyes focusing on a point beyond my head. “I picked up her electronic reader thing, and it just…It turned itself on.”
I stifle a laugh, chiding, “Dad, that’s just as bad as looking through a woman’s purse.” I shudder dramatically. “I don’t even want to think about the kind of stuff sweet Annie is reading.”
My father mumbles under his breath, something that sounds a lot likesweet Annie, my butt. He turns back to theair fryer, the screwdriver still tucked into his palm. “What do you want, anyway? Did your mother send you out here to spy on me?”
“Why would she do that?”
Dad’s eyes shift around guiltily. “No reason.” He clears his throat. “No reason at all. Now, if you don’t want me to print out pictures of you wearing makeup and your mother’s good pearls and plaster them all over the fire station, I would keep your mouth shut.”
My mouth twitches even as I give him a wounded look. “You threatening me, Dad?”
“If that’s how you want to take it,” he says darkly, but his eyes are twinkling. He wiggles the screwdriver in my direction.
I bark out a laugh. “I don’t know what your secret is, but it’s safe,” I promise. “Anyway, Mom’s not home. She went to take banana bread to one of the neighbors.”
Dad’s shoulders ease. “Oh, good. She’ll be gossiping for at least an hour or more.”
I shake my head with a grin as my phone rings, and I dig it out of my pocket. Nick’s name flashes across the screen, and I accept the call, getting, “Hey, man. You getting off early?”
“Braxton,” he rasps, breathing hard like he’s in the middle of a hard run. “Just got a 911 call. It’s Gracie.”
My stomach drops. “What?” At the sound of my voice, Dad turns to look at me curiously, concern flashing across his expression as he gets a look at my face. “What happened?” I demand urgently, ice slithering through my veins.
Flashes of car crashes—more than one—all slam into my head, merging into a disjointed puzzle that makes no kind of sense. Everything goes out of focus, Nick’s words coming from a long distance when he says, “A burglary.”
“Tell me she’s okay,” I demand, my voice cracking. Ahand lands on my shoulder, fingers digging in, grounding me. I glance at Dad, but he doesn’t say a word, just waiting.
“Someone broke into Blossom Boutique, and Gracie was inside when it happened,” Nick says. “She’s hurt, but?—”
I don’t let him finish. “I’m on my way.”
“Braxton—”
