Need Him Like Oxygen by Jessica Gadziala

Author:Jessica Gadziala [Gadziala, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-07-11T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Cinna

Not much would have called me away from something so major going on with the family.

But the call was from Joel.

And that could only mean one thing.

I answered figuring it would just be him giving me the lowdown about someone coming out of my place, snooping around.

“Someone’s here,” he whispered, voice tight.

“What?” I asked.

“Someone is here. Five-ten. Bulky. Brown hair. Thousand-dollar kicks. He’s—“

“Slow down. They’re still there?”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’m coming,” I said, glancing around to make sure no one would miss me, then sneaking out the back, running toward the street to flag down a cab.

Excitement sizzled across my nerve endings at the idea of finally, fucking finally, getting a lead. Someone who would actually know something. That could lead to some answers. The guys I was looking for. So I could finally make them pay.

And, hopefully, in doing so, I might be able to take back that part of myself I felt like I’d lost that night. The part that was so sure of herself, so strong, the part that wasn’t afraid.

Because even as the cab drove down the blocks toward my apartment, the anticipation melted into something else. Something all-too familiar recently.

Anxiety.

Worse still, fear.

I swallowed back the coppery taste of it as I tossed money at the driver, then rushed out of the cab, refusing to give into it, to let it rule me.

I was up to my floor in what felt like a blink, my gun in my hand.

Joel was in his usual seat by the windows.

“Get in your apartment,” I whisper-yelled at him before going to my door, taking a steadying breath as the adrenaline spread through my veins, making me feel hot and jittery as I turned the knob slowly, trying not to alert whoever was inside.

My stomach was doing nauseating somersaults as I pushed the door open and flew inside.

Where he’d been waiting for me.

Just behind the door.

This hadn’t been a reconnaissance mission.

It was a planned attack.

A trap.

And I’d walked right into it.

I must have flinched, something inside of me sensing his presence, because he was close enough to be precise, but the blow landed across the back of my neck and lower part of my skull instead of a full head shot.

I stumbled forward, heartbeat punching against my ribcage, pain screaming through my head as I fought against the swirling in my brain, trying to keep my equilibrium and turn back toward him, face him, fight him.

But he was faster, hands landing on my shoulders, sending me flying, crashing.

I threw out my arms, coming down on my forearms, protecting my still-healing wrist.

Pushing, I rolled onto my back, bringing my legs up, knees to chest, feet out, kicking out as he got closer.

But the blow wasn’t enough to send him flying, just stumbling back and rushing forward, this time grabbing my legs when I tried to kick out again, wrenching them around, forcing me to twist and flip onto my stomach.

Panic screamed alarm bells through my head as I scrambled up, wanting to get off my stomach, knowing how badly things could go in this position.

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