Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
The men from the break-ins.
Had Nathan sent them?
Chest heaving, my eyes flew to my handbag. It was too far away.
There would be no option but to fight, if it came to it. I got into a defensive stance, holding my arms up.
One of the men raised an eyebrow.
The other sighed heavily. “No fight.” He had an accent. “Où est-elle?”
He was French? “What?” I gestured with my fist. “This is private property. Get out.”
“Où est-elle?” he insisted, menace flashing in his eyes.
“Get. Out,” I repeated, chest heaving.
The other man gave a quick swipe of his head and pulled out a switchblade. “Où est-elle?” he repeated. “Easy way? Or hard way?”
Fear shuddered through me as I glanced down at my belly. I had more than me to protect now.
I threw myself across the room at the magnetic strip on the wall where we kept a large kitchen knife and turned in time to block the swipe of his blade. His companion started ransacking the bakery shelves as I fought off his clumsy swipes. I nicked him with my knife, and he dropped his switchblade, surprise flaring in his eyes as I abandoned the knife behind me and began punching out with force. Everything I’d been taught for the last fifteen years coalesced into this moment. My breathing centered as I used body hook punches to attack and then defend his blows, forcing him toward the door.
He had strength, but I had speed and skill he wasn’t prepared for. When he kicked up with his leg, clipping my hip way too close to my belly, fury flooded through me. It fired me up, and I spun around on my left foot, launching into him with a jump-back kick that sent him flying into the rear entrance door and slumping to the ground, stunned.
I felt his friend come up behind me. I sidestepped the blow he threw to the back of my head, panting and grunting as I fought him off now. He was sprier, quicker, as he corralled me toward the front store. I kicked out, a front kick into his solar plexus, knocking the breath out of him. But suddenly, his companion was on his feet again, and I backed around the counter into the bakery store, my hands up, gauging how to fight them both off in such a tight space.
The sprier one jumped forward, rage contorting his features. I ducked his punch, swerving around the blow, only to grab his hair as I came up. Screaming with fury, I smashed his head into the counter, glass breaking beneath the strength of my adrenaline-fueled dunk.
“Fucking bitch!” The bigger guy rushed forward as I reversed, but he tripped over his downed companion and as he tried to stabilize himself, I twisted with my right side, throwing out a high side kick, snapping my knee back and then out. I felt the power of the blow to his head reverberate down my shin. It didn’t knock him out, but it stunned him long enough for me to rush to the front entrance. My hands shook as I hurried to unlock the door, throwing it open, cool summer night air drawing me out.
“Help!” I screamed as soon as I ran onto the street.
However, Castle Street was quiet, not a soul in sight.
Except for the Gloaming. There was still light at the Gloaming. Still a few cars. Relief crashed over me as I moved to run toward it.
“Take another step, and you die.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I found the bigger of the men (the one not smashed into my bakery counter) standing on the pavement, a gun in his hand.
“I did not want it to come to this.”
In an instant, I was a child again and Nathan was waving a gun in my face.
Fear caused my knees to tremble, and I couldn’t stop shaking as I began backing out onto the road. “P-please.” I raised my hands defensively. “I don’t know what you want.”
“It. Where is it?” he asked in guttural French, walking onto the road to keep the gun pointed in my face.
Just out in the open. Where anyone could see. His recklessness terrified me even more than the gun.
Sweat dripped down his forehead. “Where is it?”
“Nathan didn’t send you, did he?” I whispered in horrified realization.
The man frowned in confusion. “Where is it?” he repeated.
“I don’t know what ‘it’ is,” I replied with surprising calm. “Tell me what ‘it’ is.”
“No. No games.” He waved his gun. “Or I shoot you.”
Tears burned in my eyes. “Please. Please. I’m pregnant.”
“Don’t care, bitch. You have five seconds.”
“You’re really going to shoot me in the middle of the street? There are cameras on this street.”
“My employer will take care of that. Five. Four—”
Oh my God. Terror threatened to buckle my knees now, and I tried to think, think, think through it. Lewis.