How to Kill Your Boss by Krissy Daniels

Author:Krissy Daniels [Daniels, Krissy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, Erotic Romance, Suspense, 978-1-61650-623-0
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Rocks bit my cheek, my palms, my thighs. I’d gone from being ravished against a car to crushed on the ground by hard, pissed off male. The full weight of his body spread across mine, stifling my ability to breathe. Ping, ping, ping. Three more shots embedded themselves in the car just above my head.

Franklin rolled off, cocked his arms, and shot four rounds. He tossed his keys at me. “Run upstairs. Lock yourself in and don’t fucking open that door for anyone. Got it? Nobody but me.”

Another ping. I wrapped my arms around my head, smashing my face harder into the gravel.

“Fuck.” He fired again. “Move your ass, baby. Go. Go!”

I shot a glance at the stairs and cringed. It seemed an impossible distance to travel. I turned my nose away from the scent of dirt and oil.

Franklin pulled a second pistol from under his shirt. “Go. Now!” he ordered.

Oh shit. I pushed to my feet, then scrambled forward. Franklin ran alongside, shielding me until I reached the first step. My legs became lead weights and my trek to the top passed in excruciating slow motion. More gunshots ripped through the early evening air. The blood whooshing through my ears came in painful waves, drowning out the street noise. My fingers trembled. I dropped the keys, picked them up. Oh God, oh God, oh God. I was dead. I just knew it. Any second, a bullet would turn my brains into splatter art on Franklin’s door.

Somehow I managed to insert the key, turn the knob, and drag my trembling ass inside. I slammed it behind me, turned the lock, then snapped the deadbolt. My knees hit the hardwood with a thud.

While Franklin dodged bullets, I cowered inside—the helpless victim. Sirens wailed in the distance. An engine roared. Tires squealed. I stayed on the floor. Unable to move. More gunshots popped and a scream rose from deep in my belly.

I needed to move. First, I needed to breathe. Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. Inhale, exhale, in, out, in, out. I regained control of my lungs and crawled like a baby toward the bathroom. Only when I reached the hall did I find the strength to stand. Franklin’s bedroom door hung ajar. A blue glow illuminated the dark space and I walked in, searching for a place to hide. I found the light switch and immediately wished I hadn’t.

Although the room contained a bed, it wasn’t a bedroom—not by a long shot. The closet doors were open, revealing a floor-to-ceiling safe sporting a keypad as well as a large dial. The opposite wall boasted a long metal desk decorated with computers. Above that hung multiple computer screens, all powered on, three of which appeared to have live feeds of every square inch of my home. That alone should have thrown me into a nuclear tizzy. Not me. Nope. What freaked me out? The wall, illuminated in warm lighting, covered floor-to-ceiling with photographs of me. From my grade school years on, as far as I could tell.

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