Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I loved him.
And I loved what we’d been creating together.
My heart ached at the idea of that being cut short.
Especially by Joss.
I waited as he got closer, then bent toward me, arms outstretched, ready to grab me, to pull me up. Maybe not all the way. Knowing him, he’d yank me up enough to strike a blow.
I timed it just right.
Then I kicked out with everything inside of me.
The impact landed in his lower stomach, and I got a sick sense of satisfaction at hearing the way his breath gasped out of him as he stumbled back.
I didn’t waste any time enjoying my victory, though.
I rushed to get up on my feet, making my way across the hall into the bathing room, regretting my decision almost immediately because, like the break room, there was only one exit. And the room had a massive metal, industrial pet bathing station. Lots of hard lines and sharp edges to bash me against.
“You’ll pay for that, you stupid bitch,” Joss roared, close behind me. Too close.
My good hand shot out, grabbing the handle of a massive jug of dog shampoo.
Even half full, it was heavy enough to do some damage.
I had no choice, given the small space, but to back myself into a corner, wondering if I whacked him hard enough to disorient him, I could unlock, open, and climb out the window.
But, no.
No.
They were old windows. And the exterior glass panes would be pulled down. There was no way I could unlock and open the window, draw up the extra pane, and then climb out unless, by some miracle, Joss was unconscious.
“Do it,” Joss hissed. “I dare you.”
He would try to take it, I knew, if I swung too early, or if I didn’t otherwise distract him.
“I’ll just make you pay for it after,” he said.
“You keep saying that,” I said, finding my voice, surprised just how strong it sounded. Once I heard it, though, I wanted to keep talking. I wanted him to know he hadn’t broken me. That he would never break me. “Yet you haven’t laid a hand on me,” I said, my gaze slipping to his stomach where he had to have at least a small bit of pain.
Suddenly, I cursed myself for not aiming a bit lower. Between his legs. Even if it didn’t keep him down long, I figured that any attempts at rape would be thwarted by that kind of damage.
Well, there was still time, I assured myself.
I wasn’t going to go down without one hell of a fight.
“I’m just getting started,” he said, cocking his arm back, ready to strike.
I waited until the last second to duck, then swing out at the same time, the jug missing its mark of his face, and whacking off his collarbone.
Still, it had him staggering back enough to create an opening for me to rush around him.
I ducked under his arm and rushed forward, only to feel a blow land in my ribs, making my breath whoosh out of me, and sending a sharp pain up my side.
Joss was faster than I’d anticipated, rushing back to block the doorway, keeping me inside.
Adrenaline was coursing through my body, making me feel like I was buzzing, even as the pain throbbed in my side.
My gaze shot around the room, trying to rack my brain for what might be inside the cabinets.
Ear wipes. Nail clippers. Styptic powder. Waterless bath wipes. Brushes.
Scissors.
Scissors.
We kept scissors in the cabinet. For a situation like something getting stuck in a dog’s hair. We never used them, for fear of what the owners might say, but they were there, nestled in the second drawer. Within reach if I just inched over two or three feet.
“Come on. Try to get past me,” Joss invited, a sneer pulling at his lips.
I didn’t try to make the move seem unassuming.
I lunged at the drawer, yanking it open, then grabbing the scissors, holding them in my fist, my arm aloft, ready to strike out at any part of him that came close to me.
I watched as his amusement turned to anger as he watched me, as he realized just how much fight I had left in me.
He wasn’t a man who liked a challenge. He liked that I immediately gave in, that I didn’t try to fight back or even defend myself.
Maybe, for a moment, he liked that he would have to overpower me. But there was not a single bone in this man’s body that liked the idea that I could stab him if he got close.
He wanted a little cat and mouse.
Not realizing I’d grown some claws myself.
Sure, I wished I’d spent more time sharpening them, honing my self-defense skills. But, hey, if I didn’t have the skills, I could use what was available to me.
I inched closer to Joss, arm lifted, keeping a close eye on him, not wanting him to be able to grab my arm, to wrench the scissors from me.