Page 34 of Protected from Malice
Instinct demands I attack him right now. But logic reminds me it’s not the right move. I need to get the door shut behind him first.
Make sure whatever goes on between him and me is private.
So I allow him to take another step inside. And another.
Until he’s clear of the door.
Then.
I move.
As I leap at him, I shove the door shut.
He spins towards me, his face jerking with shock.
My arm comes down. The knife hits the floor. With a quick kick, I send it skittering away.
Limbs a blur, I strike. Punch. Kick. Just as I planned.
In under fifteen seconds, he’s on the floor, his face smashed into the carpet.
I yank his arms and legs behind him, zip-tying them together so he’s hogtied and unable to do more than struggle uselessly.
He twists his head to look up at me and snaps, “Let me go, you psycho. I was trying to get into my damn hotel room. What the fuck?—”
Crouching over him, I wrap my hand around his neck and squeeze. Not hard enough to choke him out, but enough to hurt. Enough to turn the defiance in his eyes into fear.
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” I hiss. My eyes narrow, pinning him with a glare that promises murder, if he dares. “You don’thave the leverage here. I do. And you’re going to tell meeverything.”
His mouth opens wide to yell, but a beat later, it slams shut.
He can’t yell. Can’t call for help. Not when he just broke into my hotel room wielding a knife.
“I have video,” I snarl in a low, dangerous tone. “Of you breaking in. Jimmying the lock. So don’t youdaretry to play this off like a mixup. You came here for someone. And I want to know why.”
“It was an innocent mistake,” he says weakly. “I thought I lost my key card. And it’s so late, I didn’t want to?—”
My hand tightens around his throat, cutting off his words. I bend down lower, so my face is less than a foot from his. “Do I look like I want to hear your fucking lies? You’re not armed. You’re tied up. But me?” I lift my Sig so he can see it. “I could shoot you right now. And I’d be perfectly within my rights. Self defense. Protecting myself against an armed intruder.”
He gulps.
Then he lifts his chin. “I don’t have to say anything. Call the cops. I don’t care. I’ll stick with my story. I got locked out. The front desk guy was asleep. I heard a noise inside my hotel room, so I pulled out a knife?—”
Rage flares, white hot and all-encompassing.
Then I suck in a deep breath and tamp it down.
I’ve no interest in this fucker’s games.
And I don’t have the same moral hangups as some of my friends.
So I shove him onto his stomach. Grab hold of his ring finger and bend it back until it snaps. Stifle his pained yelp by pushing his face back into the carpet.
My mouth close to his ear, I bite out, “I’ll keep breaking your fingers until you tell me the truth. Then I’ll move on to your toes.”
“No,” he mumbles. “You won’t. You can’t. You?—”
I break his pinkie finger this time.
