CHAPTER 9
The man stood in the middle of the kitchen, not trying to hide, not trying to get away. His smile deepened, which only served to increase her fear.
“So nice to meet you, Dr. McPhearson.”
Laney paused. He knew her name. Not a burglary, then. He was about her age, she thought, and maybe Chinese. Idly, she noted he was impeccably dressed in dark slacks and a pristine white shirt. She wasn’t a fashionista, but she recognized expensive when she saw it.
His build was lean and muscular, but he was only a few inches taller than she was. He stood with his weight rested on his back foot. She knew that stance. It allowed balance and quick movement. It told her not to underestimate him. She’d seen some incredible martial artists almost a foot shorter than this man who could kill with the smallest movement. She had a feeling this man was just as lethal.
She started to back out of the kitchen, her hands up in front of her. “Who are you? What do you want?’
He pulled a knife from a sheath on his belt. “Forgive me for not introducing myself. How rude. I'm Paul. And I want you, of course.” He lunged across the room.
Laney sprinted out of the kitchen, just evading his outstretched hand. She struggled with the locks at the front door and then dove for the floor as the man plunged his knife into the door where she’d been standing. He’d stabbed so hard, it was embedded up to the hilt. Rolling out of the way, she had just gained her feet when he yanked her up by the hair.
Without a thought, she launched her fist back, angling her body to land the hammer punch in his groin. He grunted and released her. Pulling the coat rack down as she passed, she ran for the kitchen.
Her heart rate spiked as his footsteps pounded behind her. That groin shot should have given her enough time to get to the back door at least. How was he still coming?
Waiting until the last possible moment, she whirled and slammed her left foot into his stomach. As he doubled over, she launched a sidekick to his face, followed by a round kick to his knee. The man put his hands up to cover his face as she aimed a series of straight punches that would have decimated a lesser man. He blocked them with ease.
“Now, this is a nice surprise.” He grinned, catching her fist. “Someone who can fight.”
He flung her fist back, followed by a right jab to the face.
She parried the punch, ready to respond, but then a flurry of punches followed. She had no time to respond, only to block. The speed and power of his movements was incredible. She blocked a hook to the ribs only to miss the jab to her face. She spun around with the force of the punch. Her stomach jammed painfully into the island.
He wrenched her back by the shoulder, but not before her hand closed around one of the knives in the block sitting on the island.
Turning her around, he dragged her towards him. “This has been fun, Professor. But I think it’s time to end this dance.”
“I agree,” Laney spit out. She plunged the knife into his stomach and twisted it.
He howled in pain. Laney collapsed to the ground and began to crawl for the back door.
“You bitch.” He threw himself on top of her. Pain exploded in her cheekbone and ribs as they collided with the floor. He rolled her over, keeping her pinned, the knife now at her throat.
She screamed, bringing her knee up into his groin.
With a groan, he loosened his grip. Twisting his wrist, she stripped the knife from his hand. It skittered across the floor, out of reach.
Keeping his wrist bent, she got a knee in between them, punching him in the face over and over again. Working her other leg up, she kicked him in the chest. She slid back along the floor, giving her just enough distance between them to kick him in the face. Using both feet, she slammed them into his face, launching him on to his back.
She rolled to her feet and sprinted for the hall closet, ignoring the ache in her ribs and cheek. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Paul as he struggled to his feet, trying to catch his breath.
Flinging open the closet door, she frantically pawed at the top shelf.
“Come on, come on,” she begged.
Her hand closed around the metal shaft of the double-barreled shotgun her uncle insisted she keep in the house. She yanked it down and whirled around, her finger on the trigger, as Paul rounded the corner.
He halted, his eyes on the gun. “My, my, my. You really are full of surprises. Well, here’s a little surprise for you: That won't stop me.”
He sprang at her.
She pulled the trigger, catching him in the right shoulder at close range. He flew back, crashing into the wall, and slid down, a trail of blood following his descent.
Shaking, she kept the gun trained on the prone man, giving him a wide berth. She ran for the kitchen and grabbed her keys off the hook by the door.
“Going somewhere?”
She whirled around. He leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. The knife wound soaked the bottom of his now-tattered shirt in blood and the shotgun blast soaked the top. He was swaying, but somehow still upright. How the hell was that possible?
She fixed the shotgun on him, her finger poised over the trigger. “I’m guessing you’re going to try to stop me.”
He didn’t answer her. One minute he was standing in the doorway, and the next he was sprinting impossibly fast across the room. She leapt backwards, pulling the trigger as she did. The shotgun pellets caught the man in the neck and face. He screamed, but kept coming.
Flipping the shotgun, she held it like a baseball bat, and swung with all her might. The crack of the thick stock against his skull echoed through the kitchen. She just had time to jump out of the way before he crashed at her feet.
She didn’t wait to see if he’d get back up. She ran out the back door, grabbing her keys by the door, stumbling down the stairs in her haste, and leapt into her truck.
Turning the key, she slammed on the accelerator, peeling out of the driveway too fast. The truck fishtailed as she pulled a hard right. It took her a few anxious seconds to wrestle the SUV back under control.
Struggling to pull her cell phone from her pocket, she swerved all over the road.
She dialed Rocky. Punching the button for the speaker phone, she dropped it into the cup holder, and white-knuckled the steering wheel with her blood-speckled hands.
“Hey, sweetheart, how you doing?” Rocky’s voice was full of concern.
Laney’s words came out in a rush. “I was just attacked by a man in my home. I shot him twice and stabbed him once.”
Rocky’s tone changed immediately. “Are you safe now?”
“Yeah. I’m on my way to the station.”
“Good. Hold on a sec.” She heard Rocky yelling at people in the background, before she got back on the phone. “I’ve got units on the way to your house, including an ambulance for the attacker. Was he down when you left?”
In her mind’s eyes, she saw the man lying on her floor. For any other person, those injuries would be life-ending. But in this case, she had a sinking feeling that wasn’t true. “He was down. But I don’t think he’s out.”