Page 79 of Disavowed

She grabbed the door and slammed it shut, but he’d stuck his boot between the door and the jamb. The door bounced back in her face, and she wobbled for a second on her stilettos before falling on her ass on the hardwood floor.

“Help! Somebody help me!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, praying someone would hear her. But it was Sunday, and she already knew most of the other tenants in her building were at church this time of the morning or away for the weekend.

The man calmly stepped inside and threw the bouquet of flowers to the floor. Daisy found herself staring up at the barrel of a black gun.

Her heart slammed against the inside of her ribs and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. When he kicked the door shut behind him, she began scrambling backward, her heels unable to get traction on the wood floor.

The man made a grab for her arm. Breathing hard, she screamed again. The long slit in her dress bared her leg, and she kicked straight out at his chest in full-on Body Combat mode. “Take that, asshole.”

He staggered backward, grunting as her sharp heel dug into flesh and bone. “Bitch.”

She got to her knees and crawled away before getting to her feet and running to the other side of the room. Her first thought was that this fucker was going to rape her, then shoot her. Then Dom’s warning rang loudly in her ears. Someone had been outside, watching her apartment last night.

The Pyramid.

Whoever he is, I sure as hell won’t make it easy on him.

Sucking in long draughts of air, she turned to find him advancing on her. The gun was still pointed in her direction, and he seemed to be taking his time. He rubbed his chest where she’d kicked him, and his lips curved into a greasy, smarmy smile. Bile rose in her throat, and she clenched her hands into fists. She understood the intent behind that smile. This man was a predator.

Predator. The word jogged a memory, and in that instant she recognized him. She’d labeled him as a creepy predator once before.

“I know you,” she said more to herself than to him. “You were at the shop. Talking to Jack.”

“I’m happy to hear I made an impression on you.” He kept advancing, and with every step he took, she took two, gripping the back of the sofa.

He’s stalking me. Like I’m a helpless deer and he’s a lion getting ready to pounce.

And her pepper spray was tucked away in her handbag in the bedroom. Not that it would do her much good against a speeding bullet.

Her heart skipped madly, but she realized if he’d wanted to kill her he would have done it by now. Fear crept up her spine. Whatever he wanted, it was bad. Really bad.

She recalled that morning when she thought she was being followed. By him. “Have you been following me?” The thought made her even more sick to her stomach.

“Honey, I’ve been watching you for days.” He licked his lips. “I know you’ve been fucking the cop. Jack won’t be happy about that. He wants to fuck you, too.”

Daisy took another step backward, and her heel nearly slipped out from under her as she rounded her big overstuffed armchair. It occurred to her that he’d referred to Dom as cop, not ex-cop. So did he know Dom was undercover?

No amount of Body Combat would get her out of this. Knowing she didn’t stand a chance against an armed man, her muscles began to shake violently and her voice trembled. “What do you want from me?”

“I want a lot of things.” His mouth twisted into an evil, sadistic grin, and his eyes slid down and up her body. “Sadly, there’s no time. You, sexy thing, are insurance.”

Even though she was sweating, her blood ran cold. “Insurance for what?”

“So your boyfriend will do exactly as he’s told.” He lunged for her, but she whipped around and grabbed the nearest thing she could throw at him—a terra cotta flower pot.

He cursed as it caught him on the shoulder, giving her time to put more distance between them. She grabbed another pot and threw that one at him, too. He ducked and the pot smashed into the wall, shattering into pieces.

Daisy vaguely heard the shards hit the floor as she spun and began hurling pot after pot at him as he advanced on her. Soon every pot in her living room lay in pieces on the floor. Her chest heaved, and she was out of breath. She made a desperate lunge for the door, but he was on her before she could turn the knob.

Something sharp pricked her arm.

She let loose with a right cross and slammed her fist into his jaw. He cursed as she reared back for a jab to his gut. But her fist never made contact.

The room blurred. Her legs wobbled beneath her, and it wasn’t because of her high heels. Staggering, she reached for the door. An arm came around her waist, and she was propelled into the hallway.

Hot breath washed over her face. “That’s better,” he said. “Now we’re going to take a little drive.”

The freight elevator doors opened, and he half carried, half dragged her inside. She flailed her arms to no avail. She could barely get them to move.