Cut Too Deep(53)
Sudden bile rose up from Jenna’s stomach, burning its way up her throat. The sensation shocked her into movement, and she staggered back, her hand clutched to her mouth, though she couldn’t take her eyes off Sam’s body. Her cell phone! Where was her cell phone? She needed to call the police. It was in her bag, and she left her bags by the entrance.
From out of nowhere, a metal clang and rumble sounded, and she realized the metal shutters were being pulled down over the entrance.
The garage grew dark, the sunlight blocked out, and she blinked, her eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the dimmer lights from the fluorescent strips overhead. Who was working the shutters? The same person responsible for Sam’s death, or someone who could help? She didn’t have time to ponder it any further. All she knew was that she needed to reach her phone before whoever had done this to Sam got there first.
With her eyes still unaccustomed to the gloom, she ran forward, toward where she’d left her bags.
She stopped abruptly and inhaled a gasp of shock, her eyes widening.
“Hello, Jenna.”
Garrett stood in front of her, blocking the way. He smiled, but the expression was sly and knowing, not reaching his eyes which were as hard and gray as a piece of flint.
“Oh!”
It was all she could manage, feeling as if the very sight of him had winded her. She wanted to turn and run, but all her muscles seemed to have turned to stone, pinning her to the ground. Garrett standing in front of her made her feel as if the last year hadn’t even happened. She’d been placed in a time machine and whisked back to the same night Garrett forced her into the car and almost killed her.
His sharp, cool gaze traveled down her body and then back up to her face. He lifted his upper lip in a snarl of disdain. “I see you’ve put on a few more pounds.” He gave a cold laugh. “Hell, it’s more than a few, isn’t it? At least when I was around you watched what you ate. Looks like you’ve been eating everything in sight.”
She found her voice. “You murdered Sam!”
“He was in my way.”
“He didn’t do anything to you! He didn’t deserve to die.”
Garrett shrugged. “He was an aging nobody. He wasn’t exactly going to let me hang out here until you showed up now, was he?”
“What do you want?”
He took a step toward her and her whole body went rigid. “You seriously need to ask me that? After what you did to me?”
Her fear suddenly morphed into disbelief and she choked on her own crazed laughter. “After what I did to you? Don’t you have that the wrong way around?”
His eyes narrowed. “We were in an accident, that’s all. You’ve been able to keep on living your life while I’ve been locked up in that hell hole. Do you know what they do to good looking guys like me in jail?”
A surge of bitter delight lifted inside her. “Good,” she spat. “I’m glad you suffered.”
He took another step, and this time she was able to step back.
“And now I’m going to make you suffer.”
Garrett lunged for her. Moving more quickly than she knew her large frame was capable of, she spun on her heels and ran for the back of the garage. With all hopes of calling for help on her cell gone, her mind automatically went for a weapon, and the first one that came to mind was the wrench still lying in a pool of Sam’s blood.
Jenna dived behind the counter, her hands and knees skidding in the still warm puddle. The scent of iron and something she could only think of as death filled her nostrils. She’d never been in such close proximity of blood—at least that didn’t belong to her—but she didn’t allow herself time to feel faint. Her hands scrabbled for the wrench, her fingers touching cold, shiny metal. She grasped the makeshift weapon, and tried to lift it, but hands grabbed her ankles and tried to yank her backward. With her other hand, she caught hold of the edge of the counter, preventing Garrett from pulling her, and with another lunge, she grabbed for the handle of the wrench again.
This time her fingers closed more solidly around the handle, and when Garrett reached higher up her legs, around her calves, to pull her back once again, this time she was ready for him. He yanked her back but she brought the wrench with her, twisted to sit up and swung wildly with the weapon. It almost slipped from her grip, but connected with his shoulder.
Garrett gave a yelp of pain, dropping his hold on her legs to lift his hands to protect himself. But Sam’s blood had made the wrench slippery, and as she swung her arm back to hit him again, it flew out of her grasp and clanged to the floor.
Garrett twisted to face her, an expression of absolute hatred and fury on his face. His features contorted, warped in anger. “You hit me, you fucking bitch.”