only way out was across the bed, and she leaped onto it, listening intently for sounds behind her.
She knew he had finally gotten the rug off because his cursing was less muffled. She was almost to the edge of the mattress when he clamped his fingers around her ankle, preventing her from fleeing.
“You’re going to be sorry about this,” he growled as he pulled her across the bed.
She started kicking at him with her free leg, desperately trying to inflict damage while she struggled to get away.
When he whacked her shin with the side of the gun, she gritted her teeth and kept kicking.
The sound of pounding feet in the hall made them both look up.
Her back was to the door, but what the man saw made him turn her ankle loose and dodge back, aiming the gun at whoever was in the doorway.
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