Page 102 of Lethal Threat
When I roll over, my hair is clinging to my face.
The room is dark. A fevered sweat has soaked my clothes. The cotton of my night t-shirt clings to my skin.
Why am I burning up?
Assessing myself from head to toe, I check for the usualsigns of illness, nothing stands out. No muscle aches. No pounding headache. No sore throat.
Must have been a dream. A bad one from the feel of things.
Then I hear it. The chain on my apartment door, rattling.
I freeze, holding my breath until it sears inside of my lungs.
Hushed voices follow the rattling—men’s voices that I don’t recognize drift to me.
For a second, my mind goes to Cole, butno. I would know that husky voice from ten miles away.
Maybe he sent a local friend.
I try to swallow and fail miserably as all of my cells are thrust into fight or flight. Then I hear words that freeze my racing heart in one swipe.
“I couldn’t believe it when I saw her at the airport. I was sure she was dead. Stupid fucker had to get his sister involved. She’s smart, and there’s no way she’ll let this drop. The only way to know we’re in the clear is to finish her for good.”
A growled voice replies, “Yeah, well, I tried. But this time, I’ll make sure she’s bled out before I leave.”
Oh god.Oh. God.
Silently, I slide from the bed. My blood is zooming. My hands are sweating. I grab the backpack that I got at Cole’s and scoot to the window. Very carefully, I flip the latch.
I need to get outside before they get inside.
Please let the window be quiet.
I slowly move the heavy window’s weight up. When the opening is large enough for my body, I slither out onto the small roof that covers the doorway to the building.
My lungs are screaming and I remember I haven’t been breathing.
Pressing myself back against the brick wall, I watch for signs of movement. It’s late. The neighborhood has that hushed feeling that only comes in the early hours of the morning.
This is the perfect time for someone to sneak into an unsuspecting person’s apartment.
How long did I sleep? It’s still dark. It feels like I was knocked out for an eon as stiff as my body is. But much of that’s from the adrenaline raging in my veins.
I wiggle to the edge of the roof. As I flip over, my foot hooks on the lattice. My improvised ladder. I once thought the thing was ugly as sin. I sure do like it now.
When my bare feet hit the grass, I sprint for the cover of the nearby stand of trees.
Now I have to wait. They’ll realize I’m not there and leave. I hope.
But minutes stretch on as my heart thuds around like a wounded bird.What in the world are they doing in there?
When the cold starts to seep in, I realize I’ve got to do something. Hypothermia is all too easy to get on cold damp nights like this. I’m nowhere near dressed for this temperature. Barefoot, in tights and a thin cotton t-shirt, I’m more ready for yoga than I am for running from killers.
Peeking out from behind the tree, I scan the lot.
My car looks untouched from what little I can see. But if those men are tearing through my apartment, looking for something, they’ll probably do the same to my car.
I tuck low and head in the opposite direction from my parking spot, hoping I can find an unlocked car to hide in.
