He spun her around roughly enough to almost knock her over. The hand released her shirt but he kept a firm grip on her throat. One arm wrapped around her middle, jerking her off her feet. He stumbled forward through the living room in the direction of the bedroom, her back pressed against his front. The terror of being raped became a real possibility.
She’d fight. The moment he put her down, all bets were off. The building was older, the walls thick enough to muffle noise from the neighbors, but they might hear her screams. She planned to do a lot of that once she got his hand off her throat. He obviously felt slighted some way by her and had stalked her without her suspecting a thing. Rape wasn’t about sex.
The suitcases would prevent him from throwing her on the bed. He’d have to either kick them off or shove them out of the way. He couldn’t do either, the way he had her pinned. The lamp was a good weapon but so was the heavy art deco statue on her nightstand—a Greek god. The powerful build of the male figure had been a sad reminder of 466. She’d still purchased the thing, even knowing why she was drawn to it.
“You’re going somewhere?” His anger was clear as he spit out the words. “The camera didn’t show you carrying anything in so you’re taking them out.”
He was watching her place? How? A dozen questions went unanswered. It was deeply disturbing in any case. He held still, panting a little from carrying her dead weight. It was a good thing. It meant he wasn’t in good shape, which increased her chances of hurting him when given the opportunity.
Her gaze darted to the bathroom door. It was hollow-core, all the inner doors were, but it had a lock. Hairspray would be a great weapon and so would the scissors she kept in the top drawer of the vanity. It was gruesome, considering plunging them into a living human being but she was certain she wouldn’t hesitate. Stabbing him in the throat would be her best bet to take him out fast. It was disturbing to discover where her mind went at that moment but she pushed the dismay away. Survival meant everything.
“I knew breaking into the office would bring you back.” He took another step, taking her closer to the bed. “I knew you’d show up here. There’s too much security in the parking lot at the hospital. This is much better for what I have planned.”
His voice had gained a normal tone now that he was secure and had the situation under control. Icy fingers speared her heart when she remembered that voice. Douglas Peed had been her client for four months, a referral from a coworker who had retired. He’d been bullied all his life. It had started with kids making fun of his last name, taunting him to the point that he’d attempted suicide a few times in his early teens. The cruelty from others hadn’t lessened much as an adult.
She’d tried to steer him into releasing the bitterness but he tended to let the anger boil under the surface. They’d been gaining ground though until three weeks ago when his longtime girlfriend had dumped him on the spot after he’d proposed marriage.
Joy had been brokenhearted for him when he’d fallen apart in her office, admitting to her that the woman had refused because there was no way she’d be stuck with his last name. He had been kicked around hard his entire life.
Why is he coming after me? She’d given him sympathy and understanding but it had been rough on him when his therapist had retired and he’d been reassigned to her. Had missing their appointment while she’d been at Homeland set him off? Had that been the final straw? His next words confirmed her suspicions.
“I’m done being shit on by everyone.”
She hoped she could talk him into being reasonable. He needed to put her down and release the choking hold on her throat. She made a soft noise to indicate she wanted to speak. He tensed against her body but before he could say or do anything in response, a loud pounding started in the other room.
Douglas panicked and dropped her. She was free and slowly turned to face him. She started to speak but the gun he jerked from the back of his pants muted her instantly as she stared at the barrel.
“Joy? I know you’re inside. Open up.”
Moon! There was no doubt who that deep, growly voice belonged to.
“I’ll kill you,” Douglas swore. “Get rid of whoever that is.” He backed up, keeping the gun trained on her.
She trembled from head to foot as she followed the unstable man into her living room. The source of her fear changed from her own safety to Moon’s. No way would she risk his life.
Moon pounded his fist on Joy’s door again. She was there—he’d found her blue car parked behind the building. The background check had given him the license plate number so there was no mistake. The hood had been cold, indicating that it had been there a while. It was the only vehicle registered in her name so she had to be home.