Paradise Falls (Paradise Falls #1-5)(28)
Idiot, think.
There was no use in hiding. Her only hope was her neighbor. She pounded the wall with her fist. “Mrs. Carmody! Call the police!”
No answer. The old woman’s television babbled through the wall. Jennifer banged the heels of both hands against the wall and called Mrs. Carmody’s name repeatedly. The heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs, and shook the floor. The bedroom door shook like a leaf when it a meaty fist pounded the hollow wood.
“Open up.”
Jennifer felt a tight clutch of panic in her chest. Grayson Carlyle. He hit the door hard enough to make the hinges creak. The old door splintered around the doorknob, and banged against the back of her dresser.
“I’ve called the cops!” she shouted. “Get out of here!”
The closet was full of clothes but it was also full of Franklin’s stuff. After shoving the racks of old shirts out of the way, she felt along the back of the closet for his old Louisville Slugger, tucked in the corner. The kid’s size bat was almost three feet of solid ash, unbelievably hard even before age turned it nearly to stone. Covered in dirt and scuff marks, the end of the bat was worn striking a ball so many times.
The carpeting bunched up behind the dresser enough to slow its movement. Grayson shouldered the door. The dresser held. Briefly. It skidded across the bare floor until it hit the throw rug, and the rug bunched up. The door was open maybe six inches, and Grayson peered through it.
“Open the f*cking door. You’re coming with me.”
“Get away,” Jennifer said. “I’ve got a baseball bat.”
Grayson snorted, and shoved. The dresser caught on the bunched rug, and tipped. The drawers came open, spilling out everything inside, and the whole thing tipped over with a crash.
Jennifer gripped the bat tightly in her hands and edged towards the door, fighting every instinct, screaming at her to run, but there was nowhere to go.
Grayson peered through the opening. He was dressed head to toe in black, a watch cap pulled low over his thick brows. He pulled back for a running start, and then the former linebacker crashed into the door like a freight train. The door snapped with a hollow crack, where it hit the fallen dresser. Grayson grabbed the broken door in his big hands and shoved it into the room. It broke into pieces and ripped right off the hinges. With one big slab of a foot, he kicked the dresser back and squeezed through the opening.
Jennifer edged away, until he stood to his full height in her bedroom.
A surge of cold anger tore through her. He was in her house.
Her lips pulled back, her eyes widened, and she tightened every muscle in her body. The rough handle of the bat dug into her palms, and she tested its weight.
“Get out!” Jennifer shrieked. “Get out of my house!”
“Put the bat down, bitch.”
She moved the bat in slow circles, like she’d seen players do when they were waiting for the pitch. She tilted her head down, clenched her jaw, and blew out a breath.
Grayson stepped over the broken door and fallen dresser, then came at her. Jennifer swung with all her might, twisting at the waist and pivoting her feet while ignoring the flare of pain in her ankle. The bat whipped through the air, right at his head.
He was too fast, and the bat too short. He caught it with a grunt, stopping the swing by catching it just above her hands, and seized the end in his other hand. With a turn of his arms, the bat tore free from her hands. Jennifer screamed again and jumped back. She almost fell when she hit the nightstand. She crawled over the bed and headed for the door. Grayson’s ham-sized hand clamped down on her ankle, sending a teeth-gritting flash of red pain up her leg as he dragged her back.
The panic surging in her chest turned to ice and crushed the air out of her lungs as she remembered another bedroom, another man pinning her to a bed. Shrieking and contorting herself with a hidden, frantic strength, she drew her leg up and kicked him right in the jaw. Grayson’s head snapped back, and let go. He thumped against the wall. Blood poured from his mashed-in nose, and he stared at the wet streak on his hand, naked shock widening his beady eyes. Raging, he came at her again, teeth clenched.
Jennifer went for the door, crawling over the dresser, and again she was too slow.
He got both her legs this time, pulled, and dragged her around, away from the door. She landed on her backside, her back hit the wall, and her head cracked against the plaster. A blinding white flash consumed her vision. Grayson dug fingers into her arm to pull her around, then wrapped his arms around her from behind in a bear hug. She screamed until the strength of his massive arms crushed all the air out of her. He lifted her flailing body from the floor. She kicked her feet against the wall, her grippy socks catching on the smooth plaster.
He pushed her towards the wall, but her feet were planted. She let them bend, and then with a wordless scream pushed with all her might. Muscle from riding, muscle from leaping and spinning, muscle she carried in her legs and grew and grew since she was twelve years old coiled with power like steel bands. She pushed against the wall in a single explosive motion. Gayson lurched backwards, losing his footing as. He let out a throaty grunt as he crashed into the air conditioner, and his arms opened enough for her to wriggle loose.
Jennifer slammed onto the hardwood floor and went rigid. Pain lanced up from her tailbone, too intense and hot to muster a scream. Her lungs filled with air that wouldn’t go back out. She choked and sputtered as she rolled away from him. As Grayson drew back from the window, the wreckage of the air conditioner scraped down the roof, hitting the sidewalk below with a crunch.