What the …?
Matthew flung open the door and dropped the bouquet when he saw a man dressed all in black trying to drag Grace to the window.
To her credit, she wasn’t going quietly.
The man—who had to be Emmanuel, anything else would be way too big of a coincidence—had his hand around her throat but she was fighting him.
He crossed the small room in three strides, but in that time, Grace rammed her knee up into her assailant’s groin then followed up with a palm strike to his nose.
The man granted and released her then looked up and registered Matthew’s presence.
He would have bet anything that he was about to wrap this case up right here and now. Emmanuel’s obsession with Grace was going to be his downfall. He’d get the guy in cuffs, read him his rights, call back up, make sure Grace was okay, get this guy to the station and interview him then have him locked away for the rest of his life.
That wasn’t what happened.
Emmanuel took one look at him, swore, then bolted for the window.
With a last look over his shoulder at Grace, he picked up the chair, slammed it into the window and jumped.
Matthew also swore then bolted to the shattered window. On the concrete beneath Emmanuel staggered to his feet, injured but capable of moving if the way he swayed and limped as he ran off was any indication. Matthew briefly thought of calling out to the people below to stop the man, but Emmanuel was likely to kill anyone who got in his way, and he wouldn’t risk innocent bystanders.
Swinging a leg over the ledge he was about to risk the same jump Emmanuel had just taken when small hands curled into his shirt.
“Don’t, please. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Grace’s words stopped him, and he climbed back inside and turned to find her staring up at him. There was uncharacteristic vulnerability in her gaze, and he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. She was trembling and came willingly, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face against his chest. While she didn't shed a tear, she did cling to him, and he felt that all the way down to his soul. She was putting her trust in him, allowing him to hold her, allowing herself to seek comfort from him, and that act of trust cut a huge sliver out of the wall he’d built around his heart to protect himself from more pain.
There was no doubt in his mind that Grace was worth the risk.
When he felt her stop shaking, he gently grasped her shoulders and eased her back just enough that he could see her. The first thing he noticed was the blood staining the front of his white shirt.
“You’re hurt,” he said, wincing internally when he heard the words come out somewhat accusingly. It wasn’t her fault Emmanuel had attacked her and he certainly didn't blame her for it.
She looked from his blood-stained shirt to her hands and shook her head. “It wasn’t Emmanuel. I was thinking earlier, and I accidentally dug my nails into my palms a little too deeply. It’s nothing. I’d cleaned them up, but they must have started bleeding again when I fought Emmanuel.” A spark flickered in her deep blue eyes as she obviously realized that she had just fought for her life and won again, only this time it was against her tormentor.
“Let me see.” Circling her wrists, he lifted her hands and beneath the blood smudges he could see four small crescent-shaped cuts on each palm. Reaching for the tissues on the tray table, Matthew carefully blotted away the blood. Grace watched his every move, but when he reached out to palm her cheek her gaze lifted. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you anywhere else?”
“No,” she replied softly. “He grabbed me as I came out of the bathroom, put his hand around my throat, and shoved me up against the wall.” He still held one of her wrists, but her other hand lifted, her fingertips stroking along the red marks on her neck. Matthew took her hand, stilled it, and entwined their fingers. “He started pulling me toward the window but I wasn’t going with him. If he wanted me, he was going to have to fight for me.”
He grinned in spite of the fear still lodged in his chest. “That’s my girl.”
Her eyes widened at his words, but instead of withdrawing a small smile curled up one corner of her mouth. “I'm not going to be a victim ever again.”
“You did good, Grace.”
She nodded. “He’ll be back though.”
“Did he say that?”
“He told me not to fight him. He said that he helped me, taught me, saved me, and that I couldn’t live without him.”
No doubt it was part of Emmanuel’s delusion that he believed he was somehow helping the women he abducted with his crazy fable games, but he couldn’t help but feel like maybe there was something specific the man believed he had saved these women from. Something he’d have to talk to Grace about later. He also had to call in what had happened, let Rylla know and call Grace’s family. Get a doctor in here to check her out, have CSU come and examine the room, make sure Grace was settled somewhere else tonight, and post a guard on her door.
So many things to do, but instead of doing any of them he reached for Grace again and pulled her into his arms, needing to hold her.
* * * * *
7:27 P.M.