Rage flared in Gilbert’s chest. Instead of letting go, he tightened his arm and pulled Sherilyn hard against him, holding her in a fierce embrace.
We’re engaged. The wedding’s already being planned… Can’t I hold you?
He didn’t know it, but that hug was the final straw for Sherilyn’s fraying nerves.
Aaah!
With a shrill, almost whistling scream, Sherilyn snatched up the lamp from the nightstand.
Without a second thought, she swung it hard at Gilbert.
Sherilyn?!
Gilbert’s reflexes were quick; he jerked his head aside as the lamp came crashing down. Still, the force of the blow knocked him backward, and Sherilyn tumbled on top of him.
For a brief, breathless moment, their eyes locked. In Sherilyn’s gaze, he saw a wild, furious red-pure murderous intent.
She was fighting him with everything she had.
In a flash, memories flickered through Gilbert’s mind…
A long time ago, at the Neon Nights Bar, when Fred Miller had tried to take advantage of her…
That meeting with an investor, when Vincent had gotten handsy while she was with Caleb…
And the time a reporter chased her down, making her feel threatened and cornered…
Every time, she’d fought back like this—reckless, desperate, as if her only goal was to destroy her attacker.
Go to hell! Just die!
Sherilyn’s scream snapped him out of his daze.
Sensing real danger, Gilbert shot up his arm and locked his hand around Sherilyn’s wrist.
A split second later, with a loud crash, the lamp tumbled from her grasp and smashed to pieces on the hardwood floor.
Gilbert gasped for breath, shaken to the core. He couldn’t even bear to imagine- if that lamp had landed on his head, his skull would’ve been split wide open
before that damned blood clot inside him ever had a chance to burst.
But before he could recover, a sudden, crushing pressure seized his throat.
Sherilyn’s hands-she was choking him.
Sherilyn…
Gilbert’s eyes flew wide in shock and disbelief. He struggled for air, mouth open, but the only sound was a raspy whisper lost in the chaos.
Sherilyn, let go!
She didn’t hear a word. Her grip only tightened around his neck. For someone so slight, her strength was terrifying-and it was growing.
If he didn’t do something, Gilbert knew he’d die right here, right now, at her hands.
He raised his arm and, with one swift motion, chopped down on the back of Sherilyn’s neck.
Her hands released at once. Her eyelids fluttered, and she collapsed limply onto his chest.
Ah…
The pressure on his throat disappeared. Gilbert coughed and drew in huge, ragged breaths.
He caught Sherilyn’s unconscious
body, making sure she lay securely in his arms, not rolling to the side
among the shards of broken glass
thank
the floor.
Sherilyn hated pain-hated the sight of blood. If she got cut and ended up with a scar, it would be even worse.
Gilbert lay there for a moment,
།
catching his breath. Then, not daring to waste any more time, he carefully got to his feet, cradling Sherilyn against him, and carried her out of the room.
Somebody, clean up this mess!
And get the car ready-we’re going to the hospital!”
…
Hospital.
Sherilyn was rushed straight to the ER.
It was early morning, and Joyce Cooper was still on her night shift.
What happened? What’s wrong with Sherilyn?
Dr. Cooper!
Gilbert’s brow was furrowed with
worry. I don’t know the details
myself. Since you’re here,
please—can I count on
vel
notake
care of her?
Of course! Don’t worry!
Gilbert waited anxiously outside the ER, calling Charles over.
He pulled a crumpled tissue from his pocket and handed it over. There’s half a pill
inside. Get it tested-I want to know exactly what it is.
Yes, Mr. Gilbert. Charles took the tissue and hurried off to handle it.