Sweet Heart (The Hearts of Sawyers Bend #2) - Ivy Layne Page 0,1
what was left of my treats and gone back to the bakery to try again another time. Or brought what I could salvage to the front desk and dropped it off there.
I should have done anything other than follow the stranger with the box.
I don’t know why I did, why I was so sure he was up to no good, or what I thought I could do about it.
I followed anyway. My life had given me good instincts for people who were up to no good. I didn’t always listen—and wasn’t that biting me in the ass these days—but when I did, I was usually right.
I rounded the corner of The Inn and found the man in the sweatshirt leaning over a metal square protruding from the side of the building. It looked like an HVAC vent or an air intake. He was opening the box, tilting it toward the vent as if getting ready to dump something inside. What the hell?
I fumbled for my phone. My pockets were empty. Crap, I must have dropped it when I’d hit the ground. That would have been the time to run, to head for the front desk and a working phone.
Running would have been smart. Smart, but too slow. If I ran, he’d be gone by the time I got the police on the phone, and it would be too late to stop whatever he was doing with that box.
He hadn’t seen me. I still had time to get away. Instead, I called out, “Hey! Do you work for The Inn? I’m calling security!”
Stupid, I know. Alone in the dark with a stranger I’d already figured out was up to no good, and instead of going for help, I shouted at him.
Not my best move.
Not my best move, but it worked.
The cardboard box fell from his hands. In the growing light of the rising sun, I watched in horror as it spilled to the ground, a flood of shiny black cockroaches disappearing into the grass. Oh, gross.
Had he been about to dump those into the air intake at The Inn? The ramifications hit me in a split second. I ran an establishment that served food and beverages. I knew exactly how bad a flood of cockroaches would be. On top of that, the sheer size of The Inn would make it nearly impossible to root them all out.
Plus, cockroaches. Yuck.
All of that hit me in a flash just before I turned to run. Where, I didn’t know. He was between me and the fastest route to the front desk and a phone. I took off anyway. Anywhere was better than alone in the dark with a pissed off stranger.
I turned on my heel to bolt. I made it three whole steps before a hand closed over the back of my shirt, yanking me down to the ground. I landed hard, the breath whooshing from my lungs. The man in the sweatshirt was on me a second later, his arm raised, hand balled into a fist.
If he was thinking straight, he would have run. I guess that made two of us who weren’t thinking. I twisted, trying to throw off his weight, but he held me down easily, muttering, “Dumb, nosy bitch fuckin’ gettin’ in my way.”
He swung his fist, catching me on the cheekbone. Pain exploded, my head flying to the side, wrenching my neck. I’d never been hit in the face before. It hurt. A lot.
He swung again, his fist connecting. A moan slipped out as I struggled to raise my arms to protect my face, unable to knock him off of me.
I’m not tiny, about average size and weight, but he was a lot bigger. He hit me again, this time his fist bouncing off the arm I’d managed to pull free. I screamed with everything I had, knowing sound was my only defense.
Sucking in air for another scream, I braced for the next punch and rolled as his weight was gone, dragged off of me.
I heard a low, “What the fuck?”
I knew that voice. I stopped screaming and sagged into the damp grass, lungs heaving as I tried to catch my breath. A heavy fist struck flesh with a thud, followed by a pathetic moan. Opening my eyes, I watched as Royal Sawyer pinned my assailant to the ground, one knee in the man’s back, and wrenched both of the man’s arms behind him.
“Daisy?” Royal asked, shooting a quick glance my way. “Daisy Hutchins? Are you okay?”