Part 7 (1/2)

Moaning, she forced herself to climb out of bed. She unb.u.t.toned her jeans as she crossed the dark room, and was pulling the zipper down when her boot stopped in mid-stride.

Oh, yeah.

The trip cord.

Oh, s.h.i.+t.

Her other foot flew forward to catch her, but the cord hooked it back.

Both feet snagged, she yelped and threw out her arms as she dived through the doorway. The far wall of the corridor pounded a forearm aside and smashed the top of her head.

Stars. A galaxy. Whirling bright.

Ringing. Pen heard ringing.

I'd better get the phone.

But somebody was digging a fork into her brain through a neat round hole in her skull. Prodding around, prying out bite-size chunks of gray matter.

I'd better get the phone while I still have enough brains left toa Wait. I killed the phones.

Him.

How does he make the phones ring when they're not plugged in?

It's not the phones, it's the doorbell.

Her stomach clenched. Her heart hammered, shooting bolts of pain through her head.

Groaning, she clutched the top of her head.

No hole there. A tender lump the size of a split golf ball.

The ringing stopped.

Pen opened her eyes. The hallway was dim with the vague blue-gray gloom of early morning.

She was sprawled belly-down on the floor, her cheek itchy against the carpet. She pushed herself up to her hands and knees, squeezing her eyes tight as pain surged through her head.

You're lucky you didn't kill yourself, the waya Sounds from the front door. Someone trying the k.n.o.b? A sc.r.a.pe and click of metal against metal.

Pen unhooked her feet from the trip cord and thrust herself up. She leaped it, rushed across her room and s.n.a.t.c.hed the knife off the nightstand. Her head pounded. The back of her neck had burning steel rods that rammed into the base of her brain with each step as she ran, jumped the cord, and sprinted down the corridor to the living room.

The front door was open!

Only a few inches, but enough to admit the hand.

The hand was clutching the back of the chair, shaking it, trying to work it out from under the k.n.o.b.

CHAPTER SIX.

'Hurry!'

'I'm trying.'

'Let me try.'

'I'm getting it.'

'Come on.'

With his left hand on the outside k.n.o.b, Bodie pulled the door tight against his right arm. The chair inside slipped down a bit. He tugged at it. He was pretty sure he could get it out of the way, but he wondered what Melanie would ask him to do about the security chain. Kick the door open and rip its mounting from the wall?

Then came a thud of footfalls. Someone charging toward the other side of the door.

'You b.a.s.t.a.r.d!'

He lurched back against Melanie, jerked his arm from the gap. A long blade jabbed out. He stumbled backward as fast as the blade approached him. Almost. Its point nicked his side.

His feet tangled with Melanie's. He fell against her. The. bars of the balcony's guard rail rang as Melanie hit them.

An arm in the blue sleeve of a sweats.h.i.+rt waved the knife, blindly slicing the air.

'Pen!' Melanie blurted.

The arm stopped. The blade tilted upward. The arm withdrew from the opening. A moment later, half a face appeared in the gap, a single eye staring out through strands of blond hair. And lower, one breast in the same blue sweats.h.i.+rt worn by the knife-wielding arm.

'Melanie?'

The half-face and breast went away. The door shut. Bodie heard the chair b.u.mp the door, heard the security chain rattle. Then the door swung open wide.

This is the Playmate of the Year? Bodie thought. This is the Weird Sister. Double, double toil and troublea At least she had put down the knife. Trembling fingers parted the hair away from her face. She muttered, 'My G.o.d, I could've killed you.'

'Just a flesh wound, ma'am,' he drawled. Holding his side, he got to his feet.

Pen bent forward and looked around as if to see whether anyone had witnessed the a.s.sault. 'Come in,' she whispered.

Bodie held back and let Melanie enter first. Pen shut the door behind him. She leaned against it. She looked haggard, distracted. 'I don'ta I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say.'

'What's going on?' Melanie asked.

She shrugged. Her jeans were open, smooth skin showing above a triangle of white panties. She seemed to realize this at the same moment as Bodie. She raised the zipper and b.u.t.toned the waist. 'I had some trouble,' she murmured. She rubbed the back of her neck. 'Come on, we'd better get a bandage.'

They followed her into a short corridor. Pa.s.sing a bedroom, Bodie saw an electrical cord stretched across the bottom of the doorway.

What the h.e.l.l is going on? he thought.