Night Falls on the Wicked - By Sharie Kohler Page 0,21
howled and pulled back. Bright blood flowed freely between his fingers from where she’d gouged him with her key.
Keys still in her hand, she turned and fled up her steps, her goal simple. Get inside her apartment before he recovered enough to come after her.
She was at her door, key sliding home in the lock when she heard him pounding up the steps, coming after her like an enraged bull.
Shit!
She released a small cry of relief when she flung the door open, slamming it shut before he reached her. Sliding the lock in place, she took a step back to watch the door shudder beneath the weight of his fists.
Shaking her head, she reached for the phone to call the diner. Sam would be faster than any cops.
Her fingers closed around the phone. She’d just finished dialing when the apartment’s single window shattered, the legs of the lawn chair that sat on her porch sticking in through the blinds.
Ned wrestled with the chair, pulling it free with a grunt. Then his arms were there, tearing through the blinds. It wouldn’t be long before the lunatic was inside the apartment.
Sam’s voice came to her through the phone. “Hello?”
“Sam! It’s Darby—” Her voice died abruptly as Ned suddenly vanished, his wildly groping hands and arms gone. Everything was silent save for Sam’s voice in her ear.
Phone pressed against her face, her boss’s urgent demands faded away as she took several halting steps closer to the window, her boots crunching over shards of glass.
“Darby? Darby! You there? Answer me!”
“Yeah, I’m here.” She finally answered Sam. “It’s Ned, the guy from earlier tonight. He’s here.” Or he was here. “He busted into my apartment.”
Sam spit out a quick “On the way.”
Darby let the phone drop and covered the last few steps to the window. She peered through the ruined blinds, her chest tight with shallow breaths at what she feared she might find—the very thing that was terrorizing this community.
No one stood on the porch, but a distant sound floated on the winter stillness. Thunk. Thunk. Like a hammer pounding into meat. Then a heavy grunt followed.
She stood on tiptoes, trying to see into the back lot. She could only see a panorama of snow-coated trees. And she had to see. Had to know what Sam might be rushing into right now on her behalf.
Unlocking the door, she stepped outside and peered down off the porch, ready to bolt back inside her apartment.
Her heart stopped at the sight that met her eyes.
It was the stranger. The fact that she didn’t know his name, or anything about him, seemed almost ridiculous at this point.
But it was him.
He was here, with his fathomless deep eyes and tall, solid form. A ribbon of sensation rippled through her. She fought back a smile.
He stood over an unconscious Ned. He flexed his hands open and shut at his sides, as if he weren’t finished … as if he still wanted to reach down and choke the last breath of life from the hapless man.
Sam arrived then, skidding to a halt, a dirty frying pan clutched in his hand, grease dripping onto the snow. He scanned the scene, from Darby on the porch to Ned on the ground to the stranger standing so tightly wound above him. The tension ebbed from him.
“Guess you took care of ol’ Ned,” he muttered, then scowled as his gaze narrowed on the broken window. “Aw, damnit.” Lowering the pan, he turned and headed back to the diner. “I’ll call the RC. Doubt I’ll get a cent for that window out of him though, law or no law.”
The stranger’s gaze remained fixed on Darby.
She descended the porch, approaching him slowly. “Thanks,” she murmured, crossing her arms. Suddenly she was cold. Colder than usual even in this relentless winter.
She scuffed her shoe against the ground, feeling inexplicably nervous. Or maybe embarrassed was more accurate a description. She didn’t relish the idea of his having to come to her defense. He probably thought she was one of those weak females who couldn’t handle herself. Little did he know just how tough she could be. How resilient she was. How she’d had to be. She’d been on her own for three years. Just herself, staying one step ahead of the demons that would claim her if she dropped her guard and let them.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice gruffer than the last time she heard him speak.
Nodding, she rubbed her scraped palms against her pant legs and winced,