Page 41 of A Spy is Born
I try to scramble away but she leaps on top of me, a fist hitting my chin so hard that stars dance in front of my eyes. The side of my head hits the floor, and she rolls me over, grabbing for my purse.She wants the pen.
Let her have it,a weak part of me suggests.
If you let them take one thing, they will take everything, my grandmother's voice reminds me.
I grip the bag and try to roll away with it, but Red has got her legs on either side of me. She yanks it back.
The scent of her is all around me—floral perfume, fresh sweat, and the soap from the dispenser by the sink. She takes a hand off the purse, bringing it up, telegraphing another punch. I bring my arms up to cover my face, and she strikes my chest instead.
I can’t breathe.
Red again yanks at my bag, and I almost lose hold of it.
My lungs are not working.
Spots dance in front of my eyes.
Red rips the bag from my quickly numbing fingers.
She stands up, staring down at me for a moment. I'm lying on the bathroom floor, wheezing…a small sip of air gets through, clearing my vision enough for me to see her rear back. I try to roll away, but she kicks me in the side, pain lighting through my ribs.
Another sip of air makes it through as she turns and starts for the exit.
No!
Barely any oxygen in my body, spots of darkness swirling, I lunge for her, grabbing an ankle right above that sharp, dangerous heel.
Red falls forward, her hands coming out and hitting the wall. I pull off her shoe, that sharp weapon now mine. She looks over her shoulder at me and sneers. Air whooshes back as I bring the heel around and drive it into her calf.
She gives a sharp cry and kicks out with her other foot, the stiletto catching me in the shoulder and shooting pain down my arm. My fingers lose their hold on the shoe, and I fall back.
Red pulls the stiletto from her calf and brandishes it like a knife, my purse in her other fist. I scramble to my feet and drop back into my fighting pose. "Give it back," I pant.
She doesn't waste her breath on words, instead kicking out with her bare foot. It's my turn to grab it and twist. She grunts and turns the way I’m twisting, keeping hold of the purse. The shoe, with its sharp, blood-stained heel, skitters across the floor, stopping when it hits the door.
Dropping my hold on the ankle, I jump onto Red’s back. She’s warm between my thighs, her waist narrow and hard.The woman is made of muscle.I grab a fistful of curls and, yanking hard, force her into a backbend before slamming her face into the tile floor.
Blood explodes from her nose, flowering across the white tile, and she goes still. Where electric energy raged seconds ago now is dead space… like when the lights go out on a stage: brightness to blackness in a split second.
I grab my bag from her loose fingers and stand up, my feet on either side of her waist, my breath coming in heaving pants.She’s not moving at all.
I use my sneaker to roll her over. A shiver of disgust races over me, and my stomach flips. Her eyes are open, staring up at me, unseeing.
I killed her.
Chapter Ten
My eyes jumpfrom Red’s destroyed face, hopping around the room like terrified bunnies. They land on a maintenance room door and freeze.
Put her in the closet and get out. Now.
What about the blood?
One step at a time.
I cross to the closet door and rip it open.Brooms, mops, extra paper towels and toilet paper. A sign that reads “Closed for cleaning” in several languages.
I pull that out first and step to the entrance door.It’s locked.Red must have done that when she came in. My hands shake as I open it. A breath of fresh air flows in. Smelling of carpeting and normal life, it brings tears to my eyes.
