Free Hush by Karen Robards

into her flesh, his fingers hurt her. She trembled beneath them. “Understand?”
    Dizzy with fear, Riley wheezed and coughed and nodded. She sat waist-deep in the sudsy remains of her still-hot bathwater with her legs stretched out in front of her and her hands braced on the bottom of the tub, rigid with dread and the suppressed energy of the fight-or-flight reflex that she had to control because at the moment she could do neither. His hands pinned her shoulders to the smooth tile wall behind her. The faint scent of roses hung in the air, grotesque to her now. Her eyes stung; she blinked rapidly to clear them.
    Crouched beside the tub, her attacker loomed over her, soclose she could see that his eyes were brown. And hard. And mean.
    The eyes of a killer.
    The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
    She was naked, and her nakedness didn’t interest him. He wasn’t there for that.
    He didn’t care if she saw his face.
    The truth was inescapable.
    He’s going to kill me. Oh my God, is this how it happened to Jeff?
    Her blood congealed into an icy slush that clogged her veins. Her heart thumped hard and fast.
    â€œWhere’s the phone?” His fingers dug deeper into her shoulders. Cringing, Riley made an involuntary sound of pain. Fear tasted sour in her mouth. She swallowed, and looked at him out of what felt like enormous eyes.
    His grip didn’t ease. “Where’s the fucking phone?”
    Jeff’s phone. He had to be talking about Jeff’s phone. He knew she had it! Oh, God, how did he know?
    â€œAnswer me.”
    â€œI—I—” she stuttered, caught in a terrible quandary. If giving up the phone was the price of her life, she was willing to part with it that very second. Nothing, no link to Jeff’s murder or anything else, was worth dying over. But if the phone was what he was after and she told him where it was, what reason would he have to keep her alive? He could kill her, take the phone, and be gone. What she needed was a plan.
    He didn’t give her time to even attempt to work the problemout, or finish her answer. Instead he let out his breath in an impatient hiss and shoved her beneath the surface again.
    Caught by surprise, Riley swallowed water and choked on it. Her lungs convulsed in protest. Needing to cough, needing to breathe, able to do neither, she thrashed violently.
    No, no, no. Please . . .
    Just when she thought her lungs would explode, he hauled her back up above the surface. Gasping, shuddering, blinking against the water that cascaded down her face, she inhaled, coughed like she was bringing up a lung, looked at him fearfully, and blurted, “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you, okay?”
    â€œSo tell me.” His tone was implacable. His eyes bored into hers, ruthless. Pitiless.
    Her thoughts raced as she feverishly tried to come up with some way out.
    Think. Think.
    â€œIt’s—the phone’s in my office. At the car dealership. Where I work.” It was a lie. Her hope was that she could persuade him to let her get out of the tub. At least then she had a chance at making a run for it. Her voice shook. The rest of her was shaking, too, she realized. “I could take you there, right now. It’s after closing, but there’s a security guard. He knows me. He’ll let me in.”
    He smiled at her, a slow smile that revealed a gold-edged front tooth. It was a predator’s smile. Her heart lurched.
    Dear God, I need help —
    â€œWe traced the phone’s signal on the night your Jeff died. Funny thing—when his phone left the mansion, after the time that we know he was already dead, we picked up another signalthat was traveling at the exact same moment on an identical path. Yours. Then Jeff’s phone went dead. But yours—it continued on to this apartment with no deviation in the route.” His tone was almost gentle. It, plus the look in his eyes, petrified her like