Instead of answering, I lunge into the kitchen, bare feet slipping across the floor. I go down hard, hand reaching out to stop my fall. Unfazed, I grip the counter to pull myself up, the other hand reaching for the knife block, fingers wrapping around the hilt of one, sliding off as I’m pulled down again, practically thrown into the floor.
“You owe me, cunt.” James is on top of me, hands latched around my wrists, holding me down so he can scream in my face. “I was good to you. Put up with your bullshit whining, and you repay me by getting me fired? Ruining my life?”
“You want what I owe you?” I scream in his face. Borrowing a move from Patrick, I jerk upward, bashing the hard bone of my forehead against the soft flesh of his nose, sending blood gushing like a geyser.
I don’t stick around to assess the damage. Shoving him aside, I scramble across the kitchen floor, half-crawling, half-running before I finally find my feet. Gaze zeroed in on the front door, I’m halfway there when it bangs opens, stopping short on its chain.
“Cari?” My name carries over the din of noise downstairs. It’s Patrick.
I open my mouth to scream. Before I can make a sound, James tackles me from behind, slamming me into the coffee table. The force of it steals my breath and I’m under him again, his hands wrapped around my throat, squeezing while he hisses in my face.
“I told you yesterday, bitch—I’m going to kill you.”