Page 56 of Death Kiss

Strong face, Kat. Show no weakness. But, god. Barf.

‘You stupid whore. You’re going to pay.’

‘Says who?’

‘Me.’ A gravelly voice says from behind me. I spin around, and there’s Gregory in flesh. Armed with a fucking baseball bat. For an ex-minister, he’s a beefy fucker, and I don’t have the element of surprise this time.

I need to get to one of the hidden syringes.

‘Your turn, slut,’ Hugh laughs as I lunge to the left while Gregory comes toward me with the bat raised. I’m vaguely aware of barking as I turn, dodging the swish of the bat and hearing it collide with the bookcase behind me.

Fuck.

‘Who the hell is she?’ Gregory grunts at Hugh while he continues his pursuit. I slip behind the dining table, keeping it between my pursuer and me.

‘Some bitch here to try to make us pay for the kids.’

Gregory’s laugh sends chills through me. ‘What’s wrong, sweetie? Were we too rough with you the first time? Or have you never been able to stop thinking about us? Come on over and I’ll give you another taste, doll.’

If I hadn’t wanted to kill him before, I would now.

‘I’m lucky enough not to have met either of you before tonight. And no one will meet you ever again after this.’

He’s getting frustrated by our little dance around the table and brings his bat down hard on its surface. Which does bugger all except jolt his shoulders. I can’t help but laugh at the expression he makes, which sets his anger off big time.

I make a dash for it when he tips the table, my boots slapping against the floor as I run for the sitting area, needing to grab a syringe.

Pain flashes as a fist connects with the back of my skull. Gregory’s punch sends me flying forward onto my knees at the edge of the sofa. The collision with the floor hurts more than I could have imagined. He’s on me before I can reach the syringe, forcing me onto my back on the sofa. Twisting, I catch him with my blade, cutting his forearm.

Three punches in quick succession knock my mask off and have me seeing double, my knife falling to the floor. Gregory’s thick fingers close around my throat.

Shit.

‘Damn, I didn’t think we were in for fun this evening,’ he sneers at me. ‘I hope you keep up this struggle as I teach you how to be a good girl.’

My hands claw at the hand cutting off my air, tearing at the skin until he lands me with another smack to the face. The tighter he grips, the harder I fight, desperation peaking.

He’s fumbling with my trousers. Tugging them down. Time seems to slow and elongate as I press my thighs together, trying to stop him. There’s a scruffy little sausage dog watching us nervously in one corner. Hugh remains attached to the seat, bloodied but alive. The edges of my vision are dimming, and I refuse to give this corn-beef coloured mediocre man the satisfaction of either assaulting or killing me.

He’s going to die.

Stretching my arm, I shove my fingers in between the cushions of the couch, hunting for the syringe I left there.

Gregory gets his trousers open, his hand around my throat loosening for a second. I take my chance, pulling out the primed syringe and sticking it deep into the meat of Gregory’s thigh.

He roars as he roughly forces my legs apart, driven by rage.

But before he can force himself inside me, he crashes forward, landing square on top of me. The feel of him against me makes me want to heave.

The tears come as I shove him off me, sending him rolling to the floor as Hugh screams with frustration.

A sob escapes my aching throat as I push myself upright, tugging my trousers and panties back into place.

‘Get up,’ Hugh yells.

The front door slams open, hitting the wall so hard it knocks two pictures off.

Liam.