“Shhh!” I hissed, covering her mouth with my hand. “Into the bathroom! Quick!” I whispered before I threw myself off her, grabbed her hand, and hauled her after me.
She thumped to the floor, and I grimaced with the noise. I shoved her toward the bathroom as I lunged for the dresser and my weapon. I followed her into the bathroom before shoving her deeper into the room so we’d be out of sight of the bedroom door. I held my finger to my lips in the universal symbol of silence as I steered her into the tiny alcove that housed the toilet, positioning her out of sight and as far from danger as I could. Her eyes were wide in the gloom as I held my hand up in command for her to stay where she was, and then hurried to the closet.
I slowly twisted the knob and opened the door, holding up on the doorknob to try to quieten the door in case it squeaked, and then slipped inside. I left the closet door cracked enough that I could use the mirror over the sink to see back into the bedroom, and luckily, the door into the bedroom itself. I’d barely gotten the door closed when I saw a shadowy figure creep into the bedroom. The goon stopped just inside the door and then backed out, only to return a long moment later. Staying close to the wall, the shadow made his way silently toward the bath. It was clear from his crouched movements he knew where we were. He paused at the door, wary of a trap. I needed him to come into the bathroom. The closet door opened the wrong way and would block my shot until he was past me and in the room. I could shoot through the door, but I wouldn’t be able to aim, and if I did hit him, it would be nothing but luck. I couldn’t take the chance of missing and being shot myself. If he gunned me down, Willow was a dead woman.
He took a slow step into the room, his silenced pistol at the ready. He took another, and I stiffened, preparing to pounce. One more step and he’d be far enough into the room. He jerked, turning quickly toward Willow and the toilet. I cursed myself. I hadn’t thought about the mirror, and since I hadn’t shut the alcove’s door, Willow’s reflection was clearly visible in the dim lights from her backyard and the street. I exploded from the closet before the man could move, banging him in the back with the door as I raised my weapon to bring it down hard on his head. Given a choice, I’d have shot the fucker in the back, but I was afraid at such close range, even if I hit the bastard, my 9mm would pass right through him and hit Willow.
Forgetting about Willow, the gunman stumbled from the unexpected blow to his back before he began to pivot to face me. I grabbed the thug’s wrist, forcing his weapon skyward as I tried to open his skull with my own. Unfortunately, the goon wasn’t incompetent and seized my wrist as I swung. He couldn’t stop the blow, but he was able to deflect it enough that I hit him on the shoulder, doing little to no damage.
The man wasn’t much taller than Willow, so I had reach on him, but he was bult like a bulldog, hugely muscled and strong as shit. We strained against each other in silence for a moment before I realized I wasn’t strong enough to overpower him. I relaxed my grip on his weapon, the sudden absence of resistance causing his arm to quickly swing down. I increased the downward momentum by adding my own strength. His hand banged hard against the corner of the sink, causing the man to roar in pain as his pistol clattered to the floor.
Now that the goon was disarmed, I could go on the offensive, but before I could do anything, the thug wrenched his hand free and grabbed my pistol, trying to tear it from my grip. I screamed as he twisted the weapon. He was simply too strong, he had leverage, and he was about to break my wrist and fingers. I let the gun go to protect my wrist, knowing if he disabled me, Willow and I were both dead.
The man backpedaled, trying to gain some distance as he began turning my weapon against me, but since he was holding it by the barrel, it took him a moment to change his grip. I powered in, grabbed his wrist with both hands, and slammed the pistol into my leg once, twice, and then a third time. The steel of the pistol slamming against my leg hurt like a bitch, but the third impact finally succeeded in twisting the weapon from his grip.
As my weapon bounced and slid on the tile floor, the intruder tried to free his wrist from my grip while diving for the gun. I hauled on the wrist, turning him toward me and upright. Still holding his wrist with one hand, I fired the hardest left I could into his face. The thug staggered back, and I released his wrist as I turned for the weapon. Realizing I wouldn’t be able to reach the gun before he was on me, I pivoted to meet the man’s charge.
With a roar, he drove me backward into the shower door, tearing the frame down and smashing the glass into thousands of tiny fragments as we fell into the enclosure. With glass cutting into my back, we struggled in the shower, half in and half out, as we clawed at each other. I wrapped the man with my legs, trying to tie him up so that Willow could escape. She popped out of the alcove and bent, going for the gun, but in our frantic struggle, the goon knocked it away with his leg.
The thug bellowed with rage and effort, his hand on my face as he twisted it sideway in an attempt to break my neck, but then he was gone, breaking free of my embrace as he scrambled to his feet and turned for Willow. I scrabbled to my own feet as she picked up the gun. She was bringing the gun up and turning toward us when I seized the thug by the neck, roaring in rage, pain, and fear as I hauled his ass back into the shower to keep him away from Willow.
I was trying to choke him out, but he was so fucking strong, it was all I could do to maintain my grip as he slammed me against the wall of the shower once, twice, and then a third time. The pistol was pointed at us, Willow waiting for her shot as I was slammed against the wall a fourth time.
With another roar, the thug tried to power out of the enclosure, clearly thinking of going for Willow and the gun, banking on the fact she wouldn’t shoot him with me behind him. As he flailed, his feet tangling in the shower frame door and slipping on the shattered glass in the bottom of the shower, he grabbed the faucet for balance or leverage. I ignored the cold stream of water as I tried to maintain my grip, but then the thug and I screamed as one as the water began to steam. I couldn’t take the agony of the scalding water and we lunged from the shower, tumbling to the floor, the impact breaking us apart.
We scrambled to our feet, the wet tiles making our footing unsure. We lunged at each other, slamming together and then instantly crashing to the floor again as we lost our footing. Because I was on top, I tried to escape so that I could use my longer reach to my advantage, but the thug grabbed me by the hair before punching me in the face, wanting to keep us in a down and dirty ground and pound where he was more than a match for me.