The Rescue Of Jenna West Page 23
She wanted to glance behind her, measure the distance to the open exam door, but she couldn’t afford to look away from Ramsey for a second.
Then she heard the glorious, unmistakable sound of footsteps thundering up to the door. Shadows arched into the room. She opened her mouth to scream a warning.
At the same instant, Ramsey exploded into motion, leaping atop the desk and over it in one powerfully fluid motion. The bat clattered hollowly to the floor. She whirled to run and he caught her midstride.
Brute fingers bit into her good arm. He whipped her around as if she weighed no more than a feather pillow. Her head snapped back and she reached for the wall, the door, something to steady herself.
Black horror rose up inside her, jamming her breath, suffocating her.
“You’re going to pay,” he roared, grabbing her between the legs and shoving her into the exam room. He slammed the door and locked it in one vicious fluid motion.
Fear clawed at her. His hands, hot and brutal between her thighs, detonated a charge of panic. She yanked away, slapping at him, hysterical.
He knocked her to the floor and as she scrambled to her feet, he lunged across her, knocking her down again. Pain shot up her hip, burned in her broken arm.
Ramsey grabbed her solid steel autoclave and hefted the sterilization equipment. Muscles popped out in his neck, his arms and he staggered to the door, dropping the piece and effectively blocking any entrance or exit.
Fear tore at her. Winded from his blow, she struggled to breathe and gain her footing. She scrambled up, turning at the same time.
“No, you don’t!” he screamed, snagging the collar of her shirt, spinning her toward him.
She heard the explosion of a gunshot, shouted voices. The police trying to force their way through the front door.
Jenna screamed, “Go to the back! Go—”
Ramsey slammed a hand over her mouth, shoving the words back down her throat. He tasted of sweat and dirt and blood. Bile rose in her throat and she fought against his hold.
He slammed her against the wall behind the door, only feet from an unmoving Linc. Ramsey’s meaty hand fisted in the neckline of her cotton shirt and ripped.
Two buttons flew across the room. She screamed behind his hand, fighting frantically. She kicked him viciously, almost senselessly, over and over. He would not rape her again. She would die first.
Heavy fists pounded against the door. Unfamiliar voices rang in Jenna’s ears. “Open the door, Ramsey! You’re surrounded!”
A tattered strip of her shirt hung down the middle of her chest, exposing the beginning swell of her breast. And the slim wire she wore.
Ramsey saw it and roared with fury, his face contorting into lines of terrifying malevolence. He held her to the door with one hand, reached for the wire with the other.
She fought, kicking him in the shin, the knee, the ankle. Her one good fist struck a blow at his throat, knowing a punch against his massive chest would be futile.
Breathing hard, his handsome features strained and vicious, he shoved her up against the door and pinned her there with his body. Solid muscle nailed her to the steel, crushing her ribs. Her broken arm twisted at a painful angle.
“No! No! No!” With her good hand, she raked at his face, tearing skin on his neck. Her nails scored his lip, and he tried to bite her.
She screamed again, bucking wildly, her mind focused solely on survival, her breath-to-breath effort to escape death, elude for one more heartbeat his brutal hands tearing at her body, violating her.
He cursed and reached between them, squeezing her breast. Pain shot through her, radiated up her arm.
Fatigue washed through her and the sensation sent a new surge of panic through her. She couldn’t stop fighting. She couldn’t. She had to get away.
She thought he would throw her to the floor, try to subdue her, but instead he reached inside her shirt, ripping the wire from her body. In the wake of ice-edged terror, she barely felt the sting of tape as it was yanked from her flesh.
He wrapped his fingers around her throat, then lifted his other hand and spoke into the microphone he’d torn from her body. “Hello, you pigs. You’re signing off.”
With that, he dropped the bug and crushed it beneath his heavy boot.
For an instant, fear paralyzed her. He smiled, so purely evil that she couldn’t even breathe. Cruel deliberation contorted his features.
She wondered if she should try to talk to him, or stop fighting him. If she pretended to be submissive, would he relax his guard? But when he grabbed her jaw and lifted her off the floor, forcing her head back against the door, she knew she couldn’t pretend anything. If she died, she would die fighting.
“Now,” he breathed, twisted satisfaction glittering in his eyes. “We’re all alone.” He bent his head, biting her neck hard enough to make it sting.
Moving on instinct, she kicked him. He grunted as she connected with his knee. His breath blew hot and heavy on her neck.
He bit her again, harder. “Oh, it’s gonna be good this time. So much better than last. You’re gonna cry for me, bitch, and you’re gonna beg me to end it. You’re gonna beg, just like I begged you all those years ago not to ruin me. You shoulda listened. You shoulda listened.”
Tears streamed down her face, burning her cheeks. Where was Mace? Linc? A sense of hopelessness gripped her, weakening her knees. It beckoned her to slip into a dark void of peace. To cross over the line where her mind parted from reality.
She wanted to give in to the blackness reaching for her, descend into the silent buffered world of her mind where she would feel nothing, hear nothing, know nothing. Oblivion.
His teeth raked her collarbone, and his hand tightened around her throat.
Feeling abandoned and helpless, she sobbed, still struggling, barely able to breathe past the crushing pressure of his body. She just wanted it to be over, wanted to surrender to the darkness, to the place inside herself where she would feel nothing.
“Beg me to stop,” he panted against her skin, his breathing ragged. “Beg me.”
Sickened at his arousal, she saw then how perverse he was, how he orchestrated this whole sick game to some evil music in his mind. She thought of Linc’s gentle strength, his unwavering support and love. A small bud of strength sprouted inside her.
She would never beg, never give in until her last breath. Before she let Ramsey rape her again, he would have to kill her. Especially after what she had shared last night with Linc.
“No!” she screamed, renewing her struggles, her body slamming into his as she fought to get away.
She bit, kicked, scratched. Every movement drove his fingers harder, deeper into her throat, choking her. Black spots danced before her eyes. The door rattled from the force of banging fists.
Her cast banged the wall, jarring her arm. Without even thinking, she twisted and slammed the plaster into the side of Ramsey’s head as hard as she could.
The blow knocked his head away from her chest and she did it again, catching him in the face before he drew back. Bone crunched and she hoped it wasn’t her arm, breaking again.
Blood spurted from his nose. He howled, grabbing at her, but she hit him again, this time catching him in the chin. He flinched and it gave her enough time to scramble away from the body-and-muscle box he’d erected around her. He spun, grabbing for her, but she eluded him.
If only she could get to the back emergency exit! She could escape. Mace could get in.
She darted away, torn between staying with Linc and going for help. But she was their only chance for rescue. She zigzagged through the room, moving into the back half where the lights were still off, her gaze searching around the wall extension for the blinking red light that marked the exit. She forced herself to keep running, praying with everything in her that Ramsey followed her.
He did. He hurdled Linc’s inert body and kept coming; Panting, struggling to keep from unraveling, her gaze darted around for a weapon. Anything at all. S
he scanned the tops of dog cages, then the small lab area across the room.
Ramsey’s heavy footsteps thundered behind her, menacing, imminent, resurrecting all the horror of the past. Her tennis shoes slipped on the slick tile, but she didn’t fall.
The dogs were hysterical, barking and snarling and throwing themselves against the cage doors. Sheer instinct guided her to the cages, though it brought her within feet of Ramsey.
She slammed her palm against the latch on the first cage.
The door sprang open and Rollo, a Scottish terrier, sprang out, barking wildly and heading straight for Ramsey.
She prayed the little dog wouldn’t get hurt. She’d only been trying to buy some time, put some distance between her and the maniac chasing her.
She hit the next latch and the next, releasing a Labrador, a rottweiler and a Doberman, a beagle. She could barely breathe. Couldn’t think. Desperate and frantic, she ran. Tears burned her eyes.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the dogs crowd together and charge toward Ramsey as a pack. Her throat tightened on a sob. The rottweiler planted himself in front of Ramsey, baring his teeth, growling viciously.
She rounded the wall that separated the kennel area from the stainless steel tub used for bathing and dipping. Now, she could see the red exit light. Freedom. Escape.
Behind her, Jenna heard a meaty thud, then a dog’s whimper. As she neared the door, she looked back again, biting off a scream.
The beagle and the labrador yelped and skidded across the waxy floor, sliding into Ramsey and knocking him off balance.
Jenna sprinted past the stainless steel tub and, on an impulse, snatched up a bag of powdered flea dip without breaking stride.
Ramsey’s harsh curses punctuated the dogs’ fevered barking. One of the animals yelped and Ramsey’s footsteps resumed pounding after her.
“Jenna!”
Her heartbeat stuttered and she nearly stopped. That was Linc’s voice! Faint, but definitely him.
She wanted to go back, but she was here, at the exit. She skidded into the door, heart thundering, adrenaline blistering her veins. Gulping in air, sobbing, she struggled with the door, but it wouldn’t give. Then she understood and cried out in horror.
A lead pipe was jammed beneath the door handle that stretched across the metal frame, effectively bolting her inside. Locking the police out.
She switched the flea powder to her injured hand and grabbed for the bar with her left. Her hand, slick with sweat, slipped on the steel as she tried to wrest it free.
She could hear Ramsey behind her, nearing. Frantic, choked by panic, she struggled to work the pipe out from under the push handle.
Voices yelled from the other side. “Get away from the door! We’re going to shoot.”
“No, don’t!” Tears coursed down her cheeks. Desperate, she wrestled with the pipe. “It’s me, Jenna. Don’t shoot.”
“Jenna, are you all right?”
Mace!
Ramsey’s hand clamped her arm like a meat hook.
“No!” she screamed.
He spun her around and slammed her against the door.
The bar ground painfully into her hips. Dull pain arrowed up her arm. At her back, the door vibrated from the powerful pounding on the other side.
Ramsey was breathing hard, virulent hatred blazing in his eyes. Despite the trembling that worked through her body, Jenna noted with satisfaction that blood trickled from his lip, his ear, a vicious scratch on his neck. Then fear surged back, more crippling than before. How could she escape him this time?
Sweat trickled down his temple, melded with a streak of blood. Bitter rage shook him. “You never shoulda done that.”
Reading death in his eyes, her thoughts raced desperately. Linc, Mace, somebody!
A low vicious growl sounded behind Ramsey. Jenna gasped. Ramsey’s eyes widened in surprise, then pain creased his features.
“Owww!” he bellowed, his grip cutting tighter into her arm.
He flinched and she realized that one of the dogs had bitten him. Before she barely had time to process the information, he screamed in pain again and jerked back.
His hold on her loosened and Jenna took her chance. Pushing at his chest, she wrenched free. In a breath, she registered the fact that both the Doberman and the rottweiler had sunk their teeth into Ramsey’s leg. She ripped open the flea powder and hurled the bag at him.
Gray-white powder covered his face. He screamed, first in fury, then in pain. Bitter, metallic chemicals seared Jenna’s lungs.
Frantic to escape, to let the police in, Jenna bolted, scrambling around the cages, registering that the other dogs had crowded under the foremost exam table and barked ferociously.
Then she saw Linc. He moved, touching his head, trying to push up on his elbow.
“Linc! Linc!” Her knees wobbled in relief that he was conscious, but she forced herself to move past him, to the door.
The steel shook in a steady, ponderous rhythm as if the police now used their bodies instead of their fists.
She pushed with all her might to move the heavy autoclave away from the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Sobbing now, her fingers slick with sweat and fear, she pushed harder. She couldn’t believe how easily Ramsey moved it.
“Jenna, the gun.” Linc’s voice was faint, but insistent. “Get the gun.”
She turned, saw Ramsey rounding the corner, heading straight for them. In her desperation, she’d forgotten all about Linc’s .38. She slid down beside him, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Where? Where?”
Ramsey’s weight rattled the floor.
“Here,” Linc panted, trying to reach for the gun himself, his handsome features twisted in agony.
Ramsey bore down on her. He shook off the Doberman, flinging the lean muscular dog across the room to slam into the wall.
She reached behind Linc, pulled the gun free of his waistband. Jenna turned toward Ramsey, knowing she had to shoot or he would kill both her and Linc. Her fingers fumbled on the safety, but she managed to flip it off.
Linc struggled to sit up. She aimed the gun at Ramsey, who charged toward her like an enraged animal. He neared, only feet away. The distance narrowed.
Her hand shook. Tears blurred her vision. She couldn’t steady the weapon. She shifted the gun to her right hand and tried to squeeze the trigger, but her hand was too weak.
“You’re dead, you bitch! Dead!” Ramsey lunged, going for her throat.
At the same instant, Linc grabbed for her. His hand closed over hers. He squeezed the trigger.
Just as Ramsey’s hand closed around her throat, a gunshot cracked the air.
Jenna recoiled from the force. Smoke burned her nostrils.
The dogs yelped, dove into the corner by the cabinet and whimpered into silence.
Stunned, trembling uncontrollably, she could barely register the scene. She stared into Ramsey’s face, waiting for the choking, mind-numbing pressure of his hand around her neck.
Surprised disbelief registered in his eyes, shifted into hatred, then abruptly expired into emptiness. His hand around her throat loosened, then fell. He toppled to the floor only inches from her.
Jenna stared, her mind trying to catch up. Her breath ripped through her body in a desperate attempt to reach her lungs. Linc murmured a prayer behind her.
He pushed himself up and leaned over to feel for a pulse.
Pain and relief roughened his voice. “He’s dead.”
Her teeth chattered.
His arm went around her, held on tight. “Jenna, honey, give me the gun.” He took it gently from her. “You’re safe, Jenna. Safe.”
In a daze, she looked at him. “You’re all right. You’re alive.”
“Yes.” He pressed a wobbly kiss to her lips.
She raised an unsteady hand to his face, her vision blurred by tears.
The sound of hammering fists pierced her consciousness. Linc glanced at the door. “We’ve got to let them in.”
“What’s in front of the door?” an officer shouted.
“The autoclave.” Jenna turned to Linc. “I can’t move that thing and neither can you.” Her teeth chattered on the words as reaction streamed through her body. “There’s a pipe jammed in the back door. That’s why I couldn’t get it open.”
“We’ll go there.”
She rose, helping him to his feet, her good arm strong around his waist. Cold ached in her hands, her feet, but she focused on Linc. They were both safe. Both alive.
Fists pounded on the back door. Mace’s voice, strident with alarm, boomed through the metal. “Are you all right? Jenna, what’s going on? Finch, get this damn door open!”
“Don’t shoot anything,” Linc yelled, then winced as pain pulled his features taut.
“It’s jammed,” Jenna called, limping to a stop with Linc in front of the door. “We’re okay.”
Linc leaned weakly against the wall and together they worked the pipe free. Jenna pushed open the door, sagging in relief as fresh air rolled inside.
Mace and two other officers rushed in, weapons drawn.
Linc gestured weakly toward the front. “He’s up there. He’s dead.”
“You two okay?” Mace’s gaze was sharp and dangerous, his voice husky.
She nodded, dragging in clean air, gripping Linc’s hand tightly.
The other officer returned. “Yep, Ramsey’s a goner, Mace.”
“Thank goodness,” Mace said roughly, looking at Linc with a combination of relief and concern.
Jenna turned to Linc and whispered against his lips. “Thank you.”
Still shaking, but finally believing Ramsey was dead, Jenna led Linc back to the waiting area. The autoclave had been moved and she helped him through the doorway, settling him gently in a chair close by.
He agreed to let her look at his head only after she kissed him. Stroking his face gently, she blinked back more tears and went to one of the cabinets in the exam room, returning with sutures and alcohol.
Linc eyed her warily. “What are you doing?”