Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I feel the air in the room shift.
“I don’t think we’ve met.”
I yelp and spin, my heart climbing into my throat at the sound of a man’s voice, and I grip the countertop behind me as I swallow hard.
“I called out when I got here,” I reply, my voice sounding calmer than I feel. Jesus, he can probably hear my heart hammering against my breastbone. “I can come back later or tomorrow.”
“No need for that.” He’s a tall man with blond hair and a sneer as he looks me up and down. He’s shirtless, covered only in a pair of jeans that ride low on his hips. Under any other circumstances, I might think he’s handsome. “I must have fallen asleep.”
“Like I said, I can come back.” I start to move toward the door, but he blocks my path. I move to the right, and he moves with me, as if we’re kids playing a game, and it irritates the hell out of me. “You’re going to want to get out of my way.”
“Or what?” He lifts an eyebrow. “Why don’t you just calm down and come back to bed with me? It’s warm, and I’d like to have a little fun with you.”
“Absolutely not.” This is why I make sure everyone on my staff works in teams. “I’m leaving.”
He moves way faster than I give him credit for, and suddenly, he strikes out and hits me, right on the cheekbone, and I fall against the counter, seeing stars.
“I’m going to fuck you either way,” he drawls, and I hear the sound of his zipper, and every cell in my body goes ice cold.
Never again. I’ll never be used like this ever again. His hands are on me, my shoulder, my hip, and he reaches around to grope my breast, trying to pull me around, and my hand closes around the handle of a frying pan on the stove, and I spin, moving with the force of him pulling on me, and smack him right on the side of the head with a loud bang.
“Ah!” He falls to the floor, moaning, and I run, my sock-clad feet sliding on the hardwood floors. I can hear him still moaning behind me, but I don’t look back to see if he’s chasing me.
I just need to get the hell out of here.
I don’t stop running, bypassing the elevator to take the stairs down two at a time, and then out to my car, running on the ice in my socks.
Thanking all the gods above that I forgot to lock it because my purse is still upstairs, I climb inside, lock the doors, and pull my phone out of my pants, calling 9-1-1.
“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”
“I was just physically assaulted.” I have to swallow hard against the hysterical tears that want to come. My face is killing me. “I’m at the resort. Cleaning rooms.”
“Take a breath,” the operator says calmly. “I’m sending someone up there now. What unit?”
I give her all the information that she asks for, but I feel the panic attack coming. It’s right on the edge of taking over, and I have to hang up this phone so I can try to breathe.
Usually, when this happens, and if Daisy is with me, she holds her fingers up and tells me to blow, like I’m blowing out the candles, and she puts the fingers down as I blow them out.
But she’s not with me. Thank fuck.
“Do you hear the sirens?” the operator asks.
“Yes, ma’am.” My accent kicks in when I’m upset. “I hear them.”
“Okay, they’ll be there soon. You can hang up and flag the officer down. It’s Officer Wild.”
Thank God.
“Thanks. Thank you.”
I hang up and open my car door as the cruiser pulls to a stop in front of the building, and I stand, waving my arm.
“Abbi?” Chase scowls and hurries over to me, bracing my shoulders in his hands. “Shit, Abbi, what happened?”
I can’t breathe. I just can’t catch my breath, and it pisses me off.
“Whoa,” Chase croons, as if I’m an upset horse that needs calming. “Deep breaths, honey. Are you hurt?”
I look up at him, and his eyes immediately narrow.
“Black eye,” he says with a hard voice. All crooning is gone, and now he’s good and pissed. The fierce cop has taken over the kind friend. “Who the fuck did this?”
“C-condo 210,” I reply. “Guest who didn’t leave. Was going to r-r-rape me. Oh, Jesus, Chase.”
“Hey. You got away, you hear me? I’m going to take care of this. I want you to sit in your car and wait for me.” He looks down and scowls. “Where are your shoes?”
“Inside.”
With his jaw set grimly, he urges me into my seat and speaks into the radio at his shoulder, calling for more help.