Free Hush by Karen Robards Page A

nothing had ever done in her life. “I think it is here now. I think you are lying to me.”
    His eyes gleamed, his hands tightened, and she knew he was about to force her beneath the surface of the water again.
    â€œNo, wait!” She pressed back against the smooth porcelain behind her and babbled, “You’re right. It’s here. I’m sorry I lied. It’s—there’s a locked drawer in my desk. It’s in there. I’ll give you the combination.” Her voice wavered, broke. “Just don’t hurt me.”
    â€œYou will get the phone for me.” His fingers dug into her shoulders.
    â€œYes,” she agreed.
    He started hauling her up, out of the tub.
    Was this man the last person Jeff had ever seen?
    There it was again, the anger, spurting hot, only to be immediately swamped by the iciness of overwhelming fear. It was fear that dried her mouth, twisted her stomach, charged the air around her. Clumsy with it, she got one knee beneath her, pressed a hand to the bottom of the tub for balance—and touched something long and narrow and hard that was lying there on the slick porcelain beneath the water: the plastic tail of her comb. Sometime during her ordeal it had fallen from her hair.
    Her breath caught. Her heart tripped. The end was pointed, sharp . . .
    Even as he pulled her all the way to her feet, her fingersclosed around the comb. Scooping it up, she kept it out of sight, pressed close against her thigh, clutching it so tightly that the teeth dug into her palm.
    He warned, “If you lie to me—”
    Her heart thumped like a piston, so loud she was afraid he might hear it. She could feel the outline of the comb burning like a brand against her skin.
    Oh my God, do I dare?
    Stepping out of the tub, she stumbled, catching her foot on the edge and pitching forward—
    â€œ . . . a second time,” he continued, steadying her as she lurched heavily against him. Her weight threw him just a little off balance. He had to let go of her shoulders and grabbed her upper arm instead. “I will hurt you. You will wish to die before—”
    It’s now or never .
    Electrified by terror, she clenched her teeth and reared back and slammed the long pointy handle of her hard plastic comb into the side of his neck with all her might.
    The feel of it sinking into his flesh made her think of a skewer plunging through meat.
    He screamed, staggering forward. She screamed, too, loud and shrill as a siren, and ripped her arm from his hold and shoved him hard and ran like her life depended on it, which it did. From the corner of her eye she saw him go down on one knee even as he yanked the comb from his neck. Blood spurted out in a thin scarlet stream, spraying over the smooth white porcelain of the tub and adding a splotch of horrible color to the puddle on the floor.
    â€œ Suka! You fucking bitch!” he howled as she tore into her bedroom.
    Without pausing to look back, she raced past the end of her bed even as she heard him coming after her, praying the wound she’d caused would slow her attacker down enough so that she could get out.
    Alive.

— CHAPTER —
FIVE
    R un .
    The word ricocheted through her brain. Screaming until her lungs hurt, practically jumping out of her skin with terror, Riley flew through her apartment so fast her feet barely touched the carpet. Out of the bedroom, across the living room—it wasn’t far, but the distance to the door seemed to stretch out endlessly. She felt like she was trapped in one of those slow-motion nightmares, being chased by a monster while making no progress at all.
    Please God please God please.
    A panicky glance over her shoulder found her attacker barreling through her bedroom door. His hand was clapped to the side of his neck. Blood flowed red between his fingers.
    â€œKoorva! Suka!” he snarled.
    That the foreign words he was hurling at her were curses, she had no