Run! Get away!
The man’s hands bit into Amanda Vanderbilt’s upper arms as she struggled and spat at his face, to no avail. The man wore a ski mask, but the opening around his eyes let her see the shape and color of them and how his thick, black eyebrows met above the bridge of his nose.
“Shut up and come with me,” her attacker growled. Her face stung where he’d hit her.
At the back of the garden, no one at the party would hear her. To scream was useless. Tears of frustration ran down her face as dance music floated on the wind.
“Let me go,” she yelled in desperation. What else could she do? She’d tried all the defensive moves she knew—kicking, biting, spitting, and there was only one thing left. She would have to hurt him.
She lifted her knee high and hard. The man fell like a stone, groaning and holding himself. Her blouse ripped as he grabbed at her on his way down.
“I’ll find you, Amanda. You can’t hide. I know where you and the doctor lived and I know you are living with your mother now,” he yelled.
The light from a street lamp shone through a gap in the hedge. She dove and crawled through the hole on hands and knees. Branches scraped her arms as dew from the grass ruined her clothes. She hobbled out of the hedge and struggled to cross the dark lawn on her broken shoe.
Was he coming? The hedge shook behind her. She gained her balance and hobbled on.
