“You stupid bitch!”
I ran.
He charged after me.
Frantically, I looked around the corridor for something to hit him with. I couldn’t see anything but prints hanging on the walls. Damn! I sprinted down the stairs, my head pounding with every step I took.
I could hear him behind me; he was catching up. I ran faster, heading toward the kitchen. I reached the door and flung it open, then I tried to lock it behind me, but he was too quick. He backed me up against the island bench-top so hard I felt the coldness of the granite jab into my lower back. He yanked my hair back and pinched my jaw so hard I could have sworn I heard it crack. “Where are those shares?” he shouted as slammed my head on the hard, stone bench.
The room started to spin and stars clouded my vision. “There are no more shares; Max has them.” I didn’t care if he got angry. If he was going to kill me, I wanted to go down fighting; I would not cry.
“What do you mean, he has them?” He squeezed my jaw harder.
I found it so hard to talk with him pinching my jaw, but I had to do something. I wanted to hurt him, but I had no weapon. I knew the knife block wasn’t too far away from me. If only I could move my arm, I could reach it.
“What do you mean, bitch?” he repeated. “Where does he have them?”
I hesitated. Maybe I should tell him they are upstairs in the safe, and he might go look for them; that way I would have some chance to escape. It was the only way. I didn’t want to think about him going up there and not finding the shares in the safe; then he would definitely kill me. It was a risk I had to take. “They are upstairs, in the safe. Max has them in the safe,” I finally said.
Tate released me and straightened his clothing. “Show me. But I’m warning you, if there are no papers in the safe, I will kill you. Then I will kill your playboy fiancée.”
“They are there,” I lied.
As he let me go, I slowly moved into an upright position. My back was aching, and I was certain my jaw was broken. When he looked down for a split second, I turned and grabbed the closest knife to me. It was a paring knife. Thank God because it was small, and I could hide it in the back pocket of my jeans.
“Are you going to show me where the safe is, bitch?”
I lunged at him and stabbed him in the chest with the knife, twisting it and turning it until I could feel bone.
“You stupid whore!” he screamed in agony as he tried to haul me off him. He pushed me off, and I landed directly on the edge of the bench. I’m sure I heard one of my ribs crack. I clutched my side and screamed in pain. Great, cracked ribs again!
“Really, you think a little stab with a knife will stop me, Top Model? Do you?” He laughed an evil laugh that was purely wrathful. “I was stabbed so many times in prison this feels like a walk in the park.” He tugged and ripped out the knife still inserted in his chest.
I groaned in both pain and fear as he leaned down and grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling it with enough force to make my whole upper-body jerk up; I yelped. I felt a gun against my temple. “It’s such a shame I have to kill you, Top Model.” He spun me around, slammed the back of my head with the gun then I felt him kick me one last time in the shoulder.
I lay on the floor curled up in the foetal position, barely aware of my surroundings. At least this time, he hadn’t kicked me in the stomach. It didn’t matter anyway. I drifted in and out of unconsciousness.
I could hear Max calling my name. I silently begged him to save me.
My only thoughts were on Max and our future. A future we may never have.
The room was getting darker.
Then my world went black.
***
MAX
The ten-minute drive to the Sinclair Estate felt like ten hours. Neither of us had spoken a word since driving off in a cloud of dust. Zane took the corners at fifty, leaning over the steering wheel, hands clenched so tight his knuckles were white. We were both in a trance; so much so that he sped right past the estate and had to back up. He braked, skidded and fishtailed, then shoved the car into park. We both opened and slammed the car doors at exactly the same time and headed toward the front door.
“I’ll take the back door, Max, in case he tries to escape.”
I just nodded, unable to reply.
I paused in the entrance hall, my blood freezing in my veins when I heard Jada’s pitiful cries. But thank God, she was alive. I moved slowly through the familiar rooms and hallways. Her whimpering was coming from the kitchen; I had to get to her. It was like running through a hoard of footy players and never making it out of the tackle. Finally, I reached the kitchen door.
I slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside. Turner was crouched over Jada on the floor, yelling at her. “Bitch, you fucking stupid bitch,” he rasped.