Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 87943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Sven!” he shouted. “Royce! Sven!” But his voice was little more than a raw croak. There was no way anyone heard him over the music that continued to play or the screams of the partyers.
He had to get away. Break free. Sven had to be out of the bathroom now after hearing the screams. Sven would be looking for him. Panicked and guilty. Oh God, Sven. This was his fault. He’d pushed Sven too far, made him run rather than hurt Geoffrey. The stalker must have been watching, waiting for a moment when Sven stepped away from Geoffrey…the moment when Geoffrey finally drove Sven away.
He had to get back to Sven.
Attempting to suck in a deep breath, he coughed and wheezed more, his head starting to spin. He dug his heels in, but his slick-soled shoes just slid across the floor, which was wet from spilled drinks. No damn traction to fight back against his kidnapper.
Swearing, he balled up his left fist and swung at the other person, aiming for where he thought the guy’s face must be. Pain exploded in his knuckles and shot down into his wrist as he connected with what had to be the guy’s shoulder. He thought he heard a muffled grunt, but his attacker didn’t speak, didn’t give away who he was.
Fingers tightened around his right wrist, threatening to crack bones, and Geoffrey let out a whimper in pain. This fucker was not taking him.
Leaning back so that he was pulling against the man’s hold with all his weight, he lifted his right leg while still sliding along on the edge of his left foot. He kicked out, aiming for where he thought the guy’s knee might be. Luck finally shined on him and he connected with the fucker’s knee, collapsing it.
The guy cried out and immediately released him. Geoffrey fell to the wet and sticky floor, pain exploding in his hip. He ignored it and shoved back to his feet. The front entrance was clogged with people, but he swore he’d seen additional doors back by the bathrooms…deeper into the smoke and darkness. Shoving his attacker back to the ground as he tried to rise, Geoffrey covered his mouth and nose as he dove into the smoke. Pain lanced through his shoulder then hip as he clipped tables and the corner of the wall as he stumbled blindly to the back of the building.
He slid his right hand along the wall until he finally reached cool, smooth metal. And a push bar. The freaking door outside! Geoffrey shoved it and glanced over his shoulder as light from the alley poured into the club, cutting partially through the smoke to reveal that the hooded figure was limping after him. He rushed forward, trying to drag more air into his starved lungs now that he was outside. Glancing up and down the alley, he silently cursed to find that he was alone. Anyone who had escaped this way had likely rushed around to the front of the building.
Shoving off one of the walls, he took two steps forward to head down the alley when the metal door slammed open, hitting the wall. The stalker rushed after Geoffrey, still limping but it wasn’t slowing him now nearly as much as Geoffrey would have preferred.
Fuck.
Geoffrey tried to run, but he was still struggling to breathe. The soles of his shoes slipped on the damp cobblestones, slowing him down even more. The attacker’s footsteps echoed off the high walls, pounding against him as he gained on him. Geoffrey ripped the metal lid off an old trash can as he passed. On his next step, he planted his foot and twisted around, swinging the lid in a wide arc to hammer down on his attacker’s head. The shitty aluminum crumpled under the impact, but it was enough to send the bastard into the wall to escape a second hit. He continued back down the alley, knocking over the trash can and anything else he passed in an effort to slow the stalker.
His lungs burned and his head swam. He couldn’t tell if the bastard was still following him without looking over his shoulder. There was only the pounding of his own heart in his ears. As he reached the corner of the building and turned toward the main street, he saw people gathered about dressed in clubbing garb. He wanted to cry with relief.
Something snagged the back of his shirt and jerked him off balance before he could get more than a few feet down the narrow alley between buildings. He slammed into a rough cinderblock wall. What little air in his lungs was knocked free. With his left hand, he tried to shove away from the wall. A fist came down from above, crashing into his cheek and sending him to his knees. Geoffrey groaned, his vision threatening to black out.