Free Blade Dance by Danica St. Como Page B

hear me, man, please ?
    She searched the room again, but her options hadn’t changed.
    She’d been SWAT trained. Think, think. Think, for chrissakes . She pulled in a deep breath, held it for a moment, let it out, slowly. Okay. Offense, not defense. If I can’t keep him out, maybe I should let him in .
    Two more hits. He’d gained another few inches. Where was he? When would he hit next? She pressed her ear to the door, took her best guess. Three, two, one . She quickly scuttled away from the door. When Theo hit, there was no resistance. He flew into the room, lost his balance, crashed head-first into the heavy wooden desk. His body landed heavily on the floor.
    Wallis launched herself. Gotta get the knife, gotta get the knife, gotta —
    His forehead bleeding, Theo managed to twist beneath her, onto his back. He snarled in her face, furious at being tricked. He did his best to get out from under her, but she was all over him like a pissed-off wildcat.
    As she wrestled with him, an immense spear of agony shot through her damaged leg, weakening her. With her right hand still partially numb, she knew she was about to lose the arm-wrestling battle. The winner would control the blade.
    Her fingers slipped, and he sliced her upper arm. Not expecting the new pain, she cried out with a curse.
    That energized him. “ Aha , finally, gotcha, you bitch. You’re mine now. I’ll fillet you like a slab of raw beef.”
    “Stop…calling me…a bitch.” Her bloodied fingers slid off his wrist.
    He struck again, the blade slicing across her collar bone. She roared at him, pain and anger intermingling. “ Fuck you , slime-ball, you’ll pay for that one.”
    Still struggling with her, he forced a high, shrieky laugh. “But I have the blade, and you’re going to lose.”
    Then she heard the cavalry. Theo’s body jerked, so she knew he heard it, too. The deep rumble escaping the chrome stacks on Michael’s big-assed truck, as the vehicle came to a screeching halt in the driveway. Two seconds later, the front door slammed open, accompanied by the crack of broken plaster. Heavy boots pounded down the hallway, followed by a loud grunt as a body ricocheted off furniture. Michael cursed.
    Austin shouted. “Wallis, Wallis , we’re here, baby, we’re here.”
    Theo jerked toward the voices. That was all the time Wallis needed.
    With a wrenching twist, she jabbed her good knee up and into his rib cage, then snatched the knife from his hand. Blood flowed from her palm, but the pain didn’t even register. She swapped the handle in her bloody grip, blade pointing down.
    Theo grabbed her slippery wrist and yanked it toward his body. Once again, she let his momentum work for her—as he pulled, she drove the razor-sharp blade point into the soft, exposed base of his throat, right through the jugular notch, with as much force as she could put behind it.
    The pain in her leg exploded, forcing Wallis to push off, roll away from the dethroned killer. She left him to writhe like a headless snake. Listened to him choke and gag as the air escaping his lungs mixed with his own blood and bubbled through the slice in his neck. Listened as his worthless life gurgled away.
    Strong hands lifted her, carried her out of the room. The agony broke through the retreating supply of adrenaline; she sobbed helplessly against Michael’s shoulder. As he turned to carry her away from the kill zone, she saw Austin step over a still-twitching Theodore Carroll as the murderer bled out, his vital fluid soaking the antique French Aubusson carpet. She gave a thought for the poor carpet. Damn, that stain will never come out.
    Austin went around to the laptop, addressed the web cam. “Glennon, buddy, we’re here. We have her. It’s over. We owe you, man, we seriously owe you.” He nodded at whatever Glennon said, then closed the lid of the computer.
    With great care, Michael placed Wallis on her bed, stabilized her smashed leg cast with a rampart of pillows along each