Perfect Fit (Serendipity's Finest) - By Carly Phillips Page 0,101

inspired.

“Are you ready to go back in there?” Alexa asked.

Cara straightened her shoulders. “No, but I’m not going to let him run me off, either.” She studied her reflection and sighed. “I would like some lip gloss, first.”

“Body armor. I like it,” Alexa said with a grin.

“Yeah, but I left my purse in the car. I’ll run out and be back in a few minutes. I’ll meet you back out by the bar.”

“Want me to go with you?” Alexa offered.

“Nah. Why should both of us freeze?” They’d parked their cars out back and left their coats to make things easier once inside the bar.

A group of women practically fell into the ladies’ room, giggling and laughing loudly.

Cara and Alexa stepped toward the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Cara promised, and headed outside.

The freezing cold air rushed over her skin and chilled her to her bones. Still, she appreciated the reprieve, not ready to deal with Mike again so soon. Shivering, she rushed past the brick wall behind the bar, her car a few feet away, when someone grabbed her around the neck.

“What the hell?”

Cara attempted to pivot, but the big body and surprise attack prevented her from using any means of self-defense, leaving her with one alternative. She screamed loudly before the arm strengthened, cutting off her air.

“Shut up, bitch,” a deep male baritone said, too close to her ear.

Cara recognized the voice. Bob Francone, Daniella’s ex. Shit. Before she could act, Bob yanked her against him, his beefy arm strong and thick around her neck. The harder she struggled, the tighter he held on.

She coughed and would have driven her fingernails into his arms, but the heavy jacket he wore prevented her from hitting skin. And her gun was in her ankle holster, out of reach.

“You convinced my woman to leave me,” he raged, and though Cara couldn’t see his face, she’d bet it was red with anger.

He squeezed her neck harder, and Cara desperately pulled at his arm. “Can’t breathe.” She didn’t know if the words came out of her mouth or were merely inside her head. White spots floated in front of her eyes from lack of air.

He eased his hold on her throat, but the pain that remained was excruciating and she hacked out a cough.

“Are you insane, attacking a cop?” she asked.

“You convinced her to leave me. Both times. You screwed up my life, and now you’re going to fix it,” Bob demanded.

Cara concentrated on inhaling gulps of air and planning on how to reach for her gun.

“Well? Do you hear me?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

So he slammed her against the wall, his hands at her throat.

Jesus, could the man not find another way to subdue women? “What do you want?” Again, Cara wasn’t sure whether her words came out.

He’d cut off her breath and her ears had begun to ring.

Bob got up close, his cigarette-tinged breath in her face. “You’re going to tell Daniella to come home.” He enunciated each word as if she were a moron. “Got it?” He loosened his grip so she could answer.

“When should I do that? While she’s looking at the bruises on my throat?” Cara asked, her voice gravelly and painful.

Bob slapped her across the face and she blinked hard, her vision fading. Dizziness assaulted her, and she had very little time to break his grip before she blacked out.

Grasping at a last-ditch effort, she rammed her knee into his groin.

“You bitch!” he yelled, releasing her as he doubled over, clutching the family jewels.

Cara fell forward, her head hitting the pavement as she landed.

“What the fuck?” Mike’s voice drifted toward her.

Gentle hands turned her face up. “Cara?” Mike sounded hoarse and petrified.

She’d have liked to reassure him, but she was barely breathing, the spots in her vision rushing at her from all sides.

“Cara?”

Alexa’s voice, this time. And Alexa’s soft hands on her face. Peeling back her eyelids.

The wailing of a siren.

“I hurt.” Cara reached for her neck as everything around her went black.

Eighteen

Cara awoke to the sound of Mike’s voice and an aching, throbbing pain in her throat and head. She hurt; she was woozy and disoriented.

“Alexa said she’s okay,” Mike said. “Bruised windpipe, which is going to hurt like hell, and a mild concussion.” He paused. “No. They sedated her. Apparently, she attempted to climb off the stretcher to get to Daniella. She was damned near hysterical, not hearing that Francone was in custody. Alexa finally gave her something to knock her out so