Page 9 of Fully Loaded

She had to do something. Even if she gave him the device, he’d kill her. And whose hands would the information be placed in? She steeled her spine and forced her eyes to search for a weapon within reach. Nothing but a tall glass lamp on the end table—two feet out of reach.

He shifted behind her and the rope returned to her neck but he didn’t pull.

“Time’s up.”

Her heart rampaged against her breastbone. Her brain cells worked rapidly. The rope retracted on her larynx.

She pressed her foot into the couch’s frame and threw her weight backward into her assailant. The rope went slack. Then she hooked her palms around the cord and lifted it over her head.

Diving, she clamped her hands around the base of the lamp and raised it in the air. Its weight pulled on her triceps, straining the muscles. As the attacker dove for her waist, she brought the lamp down on his head. His shoulders jerked and he grunted but didn’t go down. She jabbed her knee into his groin and he folded forward, barking out a cough.

She whirled around and bolted for the door. Weight smacked into her lower back. Her chin bounced off the tile floor and stars danced in front of her eyes. The brush of a rubber glove against her jaw brought her focus back to the darkness. The rope returned to her neck and he yanked backward, drawing her into a contorted cobra position. Tears stung her eyes. She kicked her heels up and they connected with the backs of his thighs. She pressed her palms into the unrelenting tile, stretching her spine as far back as possible to allow more breath into her airways. He tightened the cord. The blood left her arms and they shook under her weight. An ebony vignette clouded the edges of her vision. Her body spasmed. The tendons in her neck and face swelled beneath her skin.

Please, God, don’t let me die here. Not without seeing Brock one more time . . .

Darkness flickered over her lids and her back muscles gave in as her last breath was choked from her lungs.

Crack!

The sharp eruption burst through the fog in her brain. The constraint on her throat gave way, and she dropped to the floor. Her mind buzzed. A voice buzzed in and out of her consciousness but she couldn’t grab onto it. She sank down, down, down, until the greedy arms of darkness embraced her.

Chapter

Four

Brock wrestled the dead body off Dani’s back and dumped it on the floor. He didn’t have to check the guy’s pulse. The entry and exit wound through his skull were evidence enough.

Dani’s hair fanned around her shoulders and spilled on the tile under her cheek. He gathered a handful of the long, silky strands and moved them to the other side of her neck.

He’d turned on the light seconds before firing. Seeing Dani’s purpling face and wet, bulging eyes, he’d pulled the trigger before the bastard could flinch. Terror, raw and sharp, had attacked his nervous system. He felt no remorse for committing murder in his cousin’s pristine home.

Pressing his fingers to Dani’s red-rimmed throat, he felt for a pulse. A slow, steady rhythm beat against his fingertips. Thank god. He moved his thumb over the abraded skin and ground his teeth.

He rolled her to her back, taking care to support her neck. She lay limp on the floor, her mouth slack. He breathed a curse and tried not to think about how long it had been since he’d done CPR training. Tilting her chin back, he parted her lips and blew a breath into her lungs. Her diaphragm rose. He sat up and pumped the heels of his hands against her chest. He repeated the motions three times. Sweat dampened his brow and dread ate through his stomach.

No, no, no. He hadn’t come all this way and been so damn close to saving her just to lose her like this. Over his dead body.

“C’mon, baby. Come back to me.” His chest ached, but he sealed his lips over her much colder ones and breathed into her mouth again before transferring his hands into position over her chest. A sharp intake of breath jerked his attention to her face. Her eyes fluttered open and the tightening hands of doom released his heart. He dropped his face to her neck and inhaled her scent. She tangled her fingers in his hair and took small gasps of air.

Finally, he pulled back enough to meet her wild, terrified eyes. Flecks of indigo broke up their ocean-tinted hues. He cradled her neck in his hands and watched as the crinkles of panic in her forehead disappeared. Her death grip on his neck loosened, but she still clung to him.

“B-Brock? What are you doing here?” The raspiness of her voice reminded him of the trauma to her throat. He eased her into a sitting position and instantly regretted it. Her stare widened on the dead man at her feet, and she shrieked and coiled away. Brock caught her around the waist before she flopped over. He moved between her and the body, blocking her line of vision.

“Hey, just focus on me, all right?”

She wet her lips. Tiny cracks broke the surface of the plump bottom flesh that he’d tasted only seconds ago. Too bad he’d been too terrorized to pay attention to the sweetness of her mouth—a sweetness he’d craved these past three years.

“Think you can stand?”

She nodded. He gripped her elbows and pulled her to her feet. She slumped against his side and he fit his arm around her shoulders. The memory of Candace snuggled in the same position flashed through his mind. Candace’s long frame just hadn’t squished so perfectly into his form. Dani’s fit like a puzzle piece.

She gagged, and he spun her away from the blood and brain splatter on the ornate white sofa. “W-Who is that?”

“Don’t know. I’ll check him out in a minute. Are you hurt?”

He ushered her down the hall to the master bedroom and sat her on the bed. What a stupid fucking question. She’d been seconds away from being strangled to death for god’s sake. He dropped to his knees in front of her and rested his palms on either side of her hips. He shouldn’t be touching her. But so help him god, he couldn’t stop himself—not unless she showed some sign of discomfort from his proximity. She curled her fingers around his wrist, and her other hand fluttered to the bruising skin at her throat.

“I think so. I lost consciousness . . .” Her unfocused gaze shifted to him. “Then I woke up. And you were there.”