She sensed movement. A change in the air in the room. Little things, almost imperceptible things. A heat—a presence—right behind her.
She spun around as her hand dropped and something brushed against her cheek. A sweet smell hit her dead-on and she shook her head to evade the pungent scent.
A scream died in her throat when a knife waved in front of her. She looked from the muscled arm to the face hardened by lines around the eyes and mouth. A man, tall, bald and dressed completely in black.
Light bounced off the blade. Her breath hitched in her chest as fear hammered through her, threatening to knock her down.
She glanced at the white cloth in his fist. The lingering smell triggered a memory. Nursing school...chloroform. They no longer used it as an anesthesia in hospitals, but she had read about it in medical-history class and had a lab tech describe it in depth during a tour.
She knew through every quaking cell in her body what this man intended to use it for. She vowed right there not to leave this apartment with him, and that meant staying conscious.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Don’t make this difficult,” he said in a harsh whisper. Every muscle in her body tensed. Her palm ached. She forgot about the phone until she looked down and saw her death grip on it.
The attacker knocked the cell to the floor and stepped toward her, filling the last bit of safe distance between them. The hand with the cloth went to her throat. His fingers squeezed and her breath was cut off.
She clawed and punched at his hands, walloping him with both fists while she turned her head away from the heady scent assailing her nose and throat. She kicked out but one forceful hit against his shin caused pain to vibrate from her bare foot up her back.
He didn’t even flinch.
Just as she lifted her knee to slam into his groin, the knife flashed in front of her eyes again. The flat line of his mouth inched up on one side. The smile was sick, feral, and her stomach churned in terror.
He held the blade close to her eye. “Where is it?”
“What?”
“No games. I want it now.”
She fought through the waves of panic shaking through her and tried to process the question. It didn’t make sense. “I don’t know—”
With a flick of his wrist, he shook her as if she were a rag doll. “Lying won’t save you.”
The back of her legs banged against the chair behind her. She rose on tiptoes to keep from losing touch with the ground. He had to be over six feet, and at five-five she didn’t have the strength or the height to take him on.
“You have the wrong person.” The words scratched against her dry throat and her fingers wrapped around his, trying to ease the punishing hold.
“I guess you want to do this the hard way. We’ll see how sorry you are after a few hours of convincing.” He threaded the end of the knife through her hair. “I am very good at my work.”
His hollow laugh sent tremors running through her. The rush of blood to her head made her dizzy. But she had to stay on her feet. Had to think.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He waved the knife back and forth in front of her nose in time with the annoying noise. “Don’t play dumb.”