Flashback (Kendra Michaels #11)

He grabbed her again and tossed her against one of the tall windows. It cracked as she struck it. Damn. Did her head just do that?

In the next instant she found herself picked up and hurled back at the fractured pane. This time the glass shattered and rained down in pieces on the sidewalk far below.

Shit. She was inches away from raining down there herself.

Cool wind blasted through the apartment, and traffic sounds echoed from the street.

She rolled over and took her first look at the attacker. As she’d surmised from his footsteps, he was indeed a tall man. He was dressed entirely in black and wore a black hoodie with ski mask attached with gold-colored snaps.

He leaned down and grabbed her. “What did you give the cop? Tell me!” He slid her closer to the window’s edge.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb. I know who you are, Kendra Michaels. I know what you’re doing.”

“At least one of us does.”

“Enough!” He thrashed her back and forth, scraping the back of her neck over the broken windowpane.

“Okay! Just tell me what you want.”

The man leaned close. “What did you give him?”

Kendra took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to get a better shot at this. She swung her left arm upward, still gripping the Dalí statue.

Contact!

Blood and a single tooth flew from the man’s mouth as he screamed and fell backward.

Guess that bust was heavy enough after all.

She struck him again. His howl was even more bloodcurdling this time. Good.

She rolled away and ran for the door. He was a heartbeat behind. She pulled down a tall bookshelf and a shorter one next to it, listening with relief as she heard him stumble over them.

She ran into the hallway. Shit. What now?

Three studios in the hallway had light leaking from beneath their closed doors.

She tried the first door.

Locked.

The second door.

Also locked.

Movement behind her. He’d pulled himself to his feet and was on his way.

She ran toward the third door and grabbed the knob. It turned! She opened it, slid inside, and closed and locked it behind her.

“Hey!”

Kendra spun around and put her finger to her lips, shushing a young man in a goatee chopping vegetables at his kitchen island. He was standing in front of a camera and tripod.

“I’m recording a YouTube video here! You just ruined a take.”

“Shhh!” She hit the wall switch and turned off the lights.