Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
It had been slightly redone. New floor. Fresh paint. The stained ceiling tile was replaced. But, otherwise, it was the same as before.
I did spot the safe under the desk, though.
Before I could point it out, the door was kicked closed behind my attacker, his hand was going to my hip as he walked me forward toward the desk.
Before I could guess his intentions, his hand went to the center of my back, forcing me to bend over the desk.
He moved in behind me, his intentions clear, pressing against my ass, and making my stomach clench hard.
“You know, I don’t mind if you scream,” he said, his one hand holding my neck against the desk while the other went to the waistband of my jeans.
I was suddenly thankful I wore jeans, not yoga pants like usual, to work. Because despite pulling, he couldn’t make the pants budge as he yanked at them.
I spotted something out of the corner of my eye, and before I could even think it through, my hand was shooting out and closing around the pen.
My attacker got frustrated enough to release his hold of my neck, wanting his second hand to try to pull down my pants.
But before he could reach for me again, I whipped around, raising my hand to plunge the pen right into his eye like all the personal protection experts said to do.
I remember that those same experts claimed the biggest problem women faced when trying to fend off an attacker was actually doing damage to them, like there was some innate part of us that didn’t want to hurt anyone.
I was, apparently, an anomaly.
I didn’t hesitate.
My stomach didn’t twist at the idea of what I was about to do.
A lifetime of being a small girl in a big, bad city had taught me that no one would ever show me any mercy. So I damn sure wasn’t going to show any toward someone who was trying to harm me.
But before I could aim true, my attacker brought his arm up, deflecting the blow, while raising his other hand, and backhanding me across the cheek so hard that my body flew to the side then crashed down onto the ground.
I managed to brace my fall with my knees and palms, but the pain still shot up through my shoulders and hips.
It was quickly wiped away, though, when the man’s boot-clad shoe landed a kick to my lower stomach, sending me sprawling onto my back, knocking my air out once again.
But he was coming, angry that I’d tried to fight back.
He’d make me pay for it, I knew, if I didn’t get away from him.
I brought my legs up into my chest, then threw them out with everything in me.
They landed with a satisfying amount of force.
But too low.
Landing mid-thigh.
Only managing to piss him off, not actually hurt him.
Damnit.
I drew them back to kick out again, but he reached for them, grabbing each ankle in vice grips, then pressing them back into my chest as he lowered down, as he leaned over me.
“I like a little fight,” he said, those piercing blue eyes glaring at me from the holes in his ski mask.
Yanking my legs down, he pinned each with his thighs.
The pain shot through me but the fear momentarily numbed me to it as his hands went to my button and zipper.
“No!” I yelled, punching, clawing, wriggling.
“Yes,” he said as I felt his fingers on my belly after he got my zipper down.
“No!” I screamed louder, trying to move. But he was so much bigger than me.
“Hey,” another voice said as a body appeared behind my attacker. “Hey, we got to go.”
“When I’m done,” my attacker said as he yanked my pants down slightly. But with the way he had my thighs pinned, he couldn’t get them down more.
“No, now,” the other guy said, reaching out to grab my attacker’s shoulder, the move causing his sleeve to slide up.
And making my blood go cold as I saw the tattoo on his inner arm.
“There’s a silent alarm. She tripped it,” the other guy said, lying through his teeth. There was no silent alarm. At least not that I knew of. And I damn sure didn’t trip anything.
“Fucking bitch,” my attacker snarled, reaching down in his rage to land a punch to my cheek.
Tears flooded my eyes involuntarily as the pain ricocheted across my whole face.
“Ruining my fucking fun,” he added.
“Let’s go,” the other guy demanded, half dragging his buddy across the room until they were out of the office.
I lay there for a long moment, too in shock to move, even to close and lock the door, as the footsteps retreated.
The bells chimed in the front as they, I imagined, made their way out.
Still, I couldn’t seem to make myself move.
To check on Ricky.