Page 31 of Striker
The silver knob turned slowly.
Terror kept her in place. If she got up, whoever it was would hear the water and know she was in here. She glanced around. No weapon lay nearby.
Her pulse thundered against her eardrums. She reached for her towel the second the door swung open. A man in black clothing and a black ski mask rushed forward. Molly screamed, but his hand clamped around her throat, shoving her against the wall of the bathtub before she could stand. The towel fell from her grip.
Shock rattled her so fiercely that for two heartbeats, she could only stare into his soulless eyes.
Then anger filled her veins. “No!” she screamed. The cry barely made it through her knotted vocal cords.
Kicking and punching wildly, she grabbed at his mask, but he clenched her throat so tight her vision waned. The thin tendons in her neck threatened to snap.
Gasping, she clawed at his clothed wrists, searching for skin—anything she could injure.
His gaze raked over her body and his mouth, poking through a hole in the mask, slid into a grin. Her eyes bulged and her cheeks were on fire.
“Too bad this has to look like an accident.” He shoved her beneath the water.
She stared up through the water, his image distorted in the ripples. Her eyes burned with the need to close them but she couldn’t—wouldn’t. If she did, she’d never open them again. Her throat spasmed. Bubbles leaked from her lips as the rest of the air in her lungs escaped. Her chest cinched and her body convulsed.
Water ran into her nose, stinging her sinuses. The soapy bathwater bitter on her tongue.
Behind her assailant, a bright light teased her—either it was heaven calling her home or merely the bathroom lightbulb. Either way, sadness struck her like a bolt of lightning.
She didn’t want to die like this.
Alone. Drowned.
Gray fog blotted out her vision. She had seconds left. One last attempt at survival. Using all her strength, she swung her leg toward her attacker’s head. She landed a kick to his face and hooked her knee over his elbow.
His hold broke, and she surged past the surface, a sharp inhale rattling her chest.
“Bitch!” He went for her again but she dodged and grabbed the nearby shampoo bottle. She smashed it against his nose.
He cursed and covered his face.
She leapt into the air and had one foot on the bathroom floor when he snaked his arm around her waist and attempted to wrestle her back into the tub.
His clothed hands on her naked body spiked new terror.
A scream caught in her throat. Her gaze landed on the phone charging inches away. His rough grasp pulled at her. She kicked and squirmed, but he was too strong.
His face came close to hers, and what little skin was visible through the holes of the mask was red with anger. She drew back her head, then threw her forehead into his face. A sickening crunch sounded as she collided with his nose.
He dropped his hold.
Stars filled her vision as she barreled backward. His screams filled the bathroom. Her sight cleared enough for her to locate the cell phone. Ripping the device from the cord, she shoved her attacker.
He careened back, landing in the tub of water. She threw the cord, which was still plugged in. The end of the charger landed in the water. A sizzling sound filled the air.
She shrieked and staggered back as the bathroom light flickered simultaneously with every jolt of the man’s body. He spasmed and shook, his eyes wide and vacant, unable to do a thing as the voltage assaulted his body.
With the phone in hand, she grabbed her towel and ran into the hall.
Her heart pounded. Her muscles trembled. She forced her steps to slow. Someone else could be here. Pressing her back to the wall, she stopped at the end of the hall and peeked around the corner so she could scan the living area.
Silence greeted her.
The only evidence of his entry was her apartment door hanging open an inch. She swallowed and ran to it. After closing and locking the door, she barricaded it with a chair. She needed two minutes to get clothes on. That was it.
