Page 58 of Call It What You Want
“Fine.”
Ava
When Jackson leaves, I yank myself out of bed and force myself into the bathroom to take a shower. I need something to wake me up from this daze I’m in. For days now, I’ve been slipping, getting dangerously close to letting him back in. And it’s not just the sex—though that’s always been raw, almost feral. It’sthe chaos of it all—wild, toxic, intoxicating. Jackson McKnight doesn’t just touch me. He consumes me.
Don’t let him get into your head,I tell myself as I turn the water on and test the temperature with my hand.It was just sex. That’s it. Any two people can fuck.
I’m waiting for the water to get up to temperature when suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck starts to prickle. I can’t hear anything because of the water spray, but I sense movement behind me.
For a split second, I assume it's Jackson. But Jackson would announce himself by doing something devious, like grabbing my ass or saying something sexually suggestive. Lurking isn’t his vibe.
My muscles lock up, and I swallow, my mind trying to work out what I should do—Run? Scream? Throw something? But I hesitate a second too long, and I’m yanked off my feet from behind, my back colliding with a man’s chest.
I try to scream, but he slaps a hand over my mouth and cuts off the sound. The pressure causes my teeth to grind into my lips, and fuck, it stings.
But the pain wakes me up from the shock, and instinct kicks in. With every ounce of energy I have, I claw, kick, and twist as he hauls me backward into the bedroom.
Whoever this is, I sense an edge of cruelty in him, which is made even more frightening by his clipped, business-like efficiency.
Fear licks down my spine when I realize this isn’t just some drunk guy who stumbled upstairs and found me. This guy is a professional. Which means,I’mthe intended target. Butwhy?What the fuck have I ever done to anyone?
“What do you want?” I scream, but the sound is muffled against his hand. My own saliva coats my face, making it slippery, and he struggles to keep his hand in place.
“Hurry up, man,” the guy hisses.
My heart stops. Is there asecondperson here? I can’t see anyone, but my range of movement is nonexistent, and most of the bedroom is behind me.
A heavy blanket is tossed over my head, and the guy holding me uses that brief distraction to reposition his hold, so his hands are no longer making direct contact with my skin (thank God).
The blanket’s heat is suffocating. I can’t breathe. Panic claws up my throat as my heart slams against my ribs, too fast, too hard. The edges of my vision start to blur.
I jerk against the guy restraining me, but the blanket is heavy, airless, and fucking disorienting. My body starts to falter, my survival instincts kicking in to conserve oxygen, dragging me toward unconsciousness.
One thought keeps looping in my mind—If I don’t break free now, I’m dead...
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ava
Get it together,Ava, I tell myself.Fucking fight back.
Twisting my body hard, I abruptly throw my weight sideways, and I feel the guy’s grip on me loosen. It’s just enough. I rip one arm free, then the other, clawing at the fabric that’s bunched around my face. My nails catch and tear until the heavy material gives way. A rush of air hits me, sharp and cold. I gasp, dragging it into my lungs like I’ve been drowning.
But the relief is short-lived, because suddenly, the second, shorter guy materializes from behind the first guy, andbothare now moving toward me. My heart stops. There’s no way I can fight two of them.
But before either one of them can get to me, a blur of motion slams into the shorter guy from behind, someone tackling him hard enough that they both crash to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
“Back the fuck off!”
It’s Ember, wild-eyed and furious, her fists already flying.
The taller guy freezes for a split second, and I use it to scan for something—anything—I can use as a weapon. My gaze landson the metal lamp on the nightstand. It’s heavy, pricey, and solid enough to do some real damage.
I reach for it and yank hard, ripping the cord free from the wall. The tall one is coming at me, and I don’t even think; I just move. I swing the lamp like a baseball bat, putting every ounce of fear and anger behind it. But he sees it coming and catches it in his fist, mid-swing, a slow smile spreading across his face. “He said you were a spitfire.” His laugh is low, ugly. He rips the lamp out of my hand. “I guess he wasn’t exaggerating.”
My eyes dart to Ember. She’s still grappling with the shorter guy, her fists flying, but she’s losing ground. He’s stronger, heavier, and she’s already slowing down.
Tall Guy drops the lamp with athud,drawing my attention back to him, and he takes a step toward me. I back up, but the bed is behind me.
