Page 107 of Protected from Malice
“Hey.” His voice deepens. His eyes narrow as he stares at me.
Then he takes another step forward.
My heart feels like it’s about to explode from fear.
The logical part of my brain shouts,Run! Get out of here! Get away from him!
But my stupid muscles won’t work.
His gaze flickers to the door. As he continues advancing towards me, he seems to get taller. Bigger. Even more threatening. “I think we need to have a talk,” he says, “before you get any crazy ideas.”
Move!
Run!
Don’t just stand here like a willing victim!
What would Rafe do?
He’d fight back. But that’s not an option for me. Not without my pepper spray and taser, which are unhelpfully back in my office.
But I can run.
Call for help.
The man keeps moving.
My lungs seize.
Run!
RUN!
And like a damn bursting, my body springs into action.
I spin around and bolt through the door.
I can hear his footsteps behind me, gaining in speed.
There’s no one else in the hallway except for us.
What if he tackles me? What if?—
No.
Think of Rafe.
Think of his confidence. He wouldn’t think of what could go wrong. He’d just focus on what needs to be done. Getting away from the man who attacked me. Calling for help.
CallingRafe.
Belatedly, I remember my phone tucked in my pocket. But I don’t dare slow down enough to use it.
I need a hiding spot. But my office is too far away.
Think.
A frantic glance up ahead gives me an idea.
