Debra Webb - Personal Protector

Damn.

Withdrawing the weapon tucked into the back of his waistband, Ric leaned against the door but met firm resistance. It was locked. Adrenaline slid through his veins. He swore under his breath and readied himself to force the door open. He slammed hard against it once, twice, then pushed into the darkness.

The room was thick with silence. He felt for the switch on the wall with his left hand and with one flick of his thumb filled the room with light. He blinked as his gaze adjusted to the brightness.

A sitting area. It was empty. Listening intently, he eased across the small room and listened for several seconds. Nothing. Holding his weapon with both hands, he swung into the tiled area where the fancy stalls and elegant sinks lined both sides of the walls.

Piper lay on the floor.

Fear surged into his throat. Keeping an eye out for any movement, he knelt beside her just as she tried to push up into a sitting position. She made a sound, half sob, half whimper, as he closed his arm around her and pulled her close.

“Are you all right?” he demanded, surveying her for damage. Her hair was mussed, but that appeared to be the extent of the external damage.

“What happened?” he asked when she didn’t answer quickly enough to suit him. Where the hell was the blonde? Was she the one who did this? And where the hell did she go? Anger rushed through his veins. Dammit, he should have checked the place out before she came in here. But she hadn’t given him the chance. Could he have kept the blonde out without causing a scene?

“He…he—” Piper touched her throat “—did something to my neck and I blacked out.” Her eyes rounded with remembered fear. “Did you see him?” She whipped her head from side to side. “Where is he?” Before Ric could stop her, she tried to scramble up.

“You’re sure it was a he?” As he helped Piper to her feet, Ric considered whether the blonde could have been a man in disguise. He didn’t see how, but…

“It was a man,” Piper insisted, her voice sounded raspy. “He was wearing a wool mask, like a ski mask. I felt the roughness of it against my cheek.” Now that she was vertical again, and despite the visible shaking, anger was quickly replacing the fear in her eyes.

“Don’t move,” Ric instructed. No one came back out of the door, not even the blonde. And, unless she was dead inside one of the stalls—he quickly scanned the bottom of each and decided that wasn’t likely—she was in on it. Ric pushed each door inward just to be certain, ready to fire if anyone moved.

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