She got one good front kick in that snapped his head back. She followed him as he fell backward, scoring a fist on his solar plexus. In uncaring rage, she punched him again, and he blocked it. Stinging tingles raced up her arm.
His foot came out, and she fell, her legs swept out from under her. She rolled, narrowly escaping his savage kick, and she kept rolling. Still on the floor, she lashed out, scooting backward and to her feet. With an eager smile, he grabbed her arm and swung her into the wall.
She hit it face-first, the breath knocked out of her as she staggered. His foot slammed into her chest and she slid to the floor.
Unable to breathe, she scuttled into the bathroom. She couldn’t see straight, and finally she took in a breath, looking up to see the man leaning against the doorjamb, a hand to his chest and clearly laboring as well. An Opti-issue Glock lay behind him, totally out of reach.
“Reed’s here,” he said, panting into an electronic wristband; then he came at her, his hands stretched to grab. If he got a grip on her, she was done.
Shit. Peri stumbled into the bathroom, grunting as his weight slammed into her and pinned her face to the wall. Cat litter ground under her feet as she flung her head back into him.
He cried out, grip loosening. Peri dropped, her hand reaching for her knife. He followed her down, pinning her neck to the floor with a wide, heavy hand, wedging the knife from her with the other. There was blood on him. She’d broken his nose.
“Peri, do something!” Jack shouted, and she grabbed a handful of cat litter and threw it at the sound of the man’s grunting breath.
“Bitch!” he exclaimed, and his hand lifted. Peri dragged herself upright, grasping the lid to the toilet tank and swinging it at him. He was halfway to a stand, and it hit his head with a dull thwap, the weight of it spinning Peri full-circle to crash into the counter. Her hands went numb and the lid fell from her to break into two pieces. She slipped and went down, stifling a scream when her back hit the tub.
But the man was out cold, his cheek resting on a thin layer of cat litter soaking up the blood from his broken nose. A red lump showed at his hairline. Peri’s eyes rose to find Jack. “I didn’t like him touching your things,” she said, the absurdity of it making her eyes wide.
Smiling, he held out a hand to help her stand. She lurched up, ignoring it as she took her knife back. Her chest hurt, and not because she’d taken a foot to it. She hated Jack, hated that it felt right with him beside her.
Shaking from adrenaline, Peri shoved her knife away and staggered into the living room. Someone had to have heard that. She had to go. But as she looked at her life in a ten-by-eight-by-four-foot pile, she couldn’t focus. “My talismans,” she said, her anger growing as she saw a picture of Jack and herself in a desert, the coals of a fire behind them. She didn’t remember it, but she looked happy. All of her memories were broken and lost. “Jack, where’s the list? Did they find it?”
“I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t know this would happen.”
Frustration spun back into anger, and she rounded on him. “Where is it!” she shouted, her hands in fists as he picked up the silver frame and ran a finger down her pictured face. Tears pricked and she came close, wanting to take it from him but reluctant to break the illusion that he was holding it. For all she knew, the picture might not even exist. “Jack, where’s the list?”
He looked up, tears in his eyes. “I don’t think it’s here.”
Peri’s breath came in fast. Had it all been for nothing? “They have it?”
“No.” His gaze traveled over the destruction, clearly pained. “It’s just not … here.” Then: “You should have left. You waited too long. I’m sorry.”
The sound of the door opening spun her around and Jack vanished. “Silas!” Peri exclaimed as he stumbled through the door. “I can explain.”
Frightened, Silas caught his balance as Bill strode in after him. Peri slid to a halt, only now seeing that Silas’s hands were cuffed before him.
“Then he wasn’t lying that you’re here on your own. Curious,” Bill said, looking menacing in his three-piece suit and expensive shoes, a gun pointed at one of Silas’s kidneys. “If you jump, I shoot him in the new draft and he dies. Very fast.” Bill is an anchor? It was the only way he’d know if there was a draft or not.
“I shouldn’t have left you, Peri,” Silas said, his eyes haunted. “I’m sorry.”
From the hall, Allen’s irate voice rose, saying, “Is she down?”
Bill smirked, pushing Silas deeper into the room. “He’s afraid of you.”
“Maybe he’s the smarter man here,” Peri said as two unremarkable men in suits came in. She prayed that Howard and Taf had left. It had gone wrong, so very wrong.