Furious Jeffrey Higgins (english love story books TXT) 📖

six days per week and toned my body, but I did not lift weights and possessed little upper-body strength. I was no match for a muscular man.

To survive, I had to use my mind as a weapon.

Brad pounded on the door, his growls reverberating behind the companionway, as if the ship itself was growling. Wood splintered.

I climbed onto the bed and stood on my toes, my stitches pulling against my wound. I lifted my leg and balanced on my good foot. I grabbed the plastic hatch handle, pressed the release button, and turned it counterclockwise to break the seal. I pushed the plexiglass hatch open and salty air blew in my face. Brad would break free from the engine compartment at any moment.

I held onto the hatch and waited.

Wood splintered in the stern and Brad’s feet pounded on the deck. He had escaped. A door slammed open, probably the head inside the berth, then his footsteps thumped across the salon. He banged into the stateroom door, kicking and punching it, as if blinded by rage.

I tossed my knife through the open hatch onto the deck. I pushed off the bed and pulled myself through. It took all of my effort to get my weight over the lip of the hatch. I squeezed myself through the small opening and climbed on deck. I closed the hatch behind me.

I grabbed the knife and stared through the plexiglass. The stateroom door burst open and Brad ran into the room—a feral predator in search of prey. He slobbered like a dog, spraying saliva and turning the yacht into a biohazard. His eyes darted around the room—wild, inhuman. He kicked open the bathroom door and dove inside. He crashed against the sink, knocking the soap and toothbrushes onto the floor.

Brad bounded out of the bathroom and across the room. He yelped when he stepped on broken shards of glass, but the pain did not slow him. He threw open the cabinet doors and whirled around looking confused. Brad turned and stared at the bed.

The wind whistled through the unsealed hatch. Brad lifted his gaze toward the sound and his eyes met mine. A grin spread against his face and he bit the air between us.

He jumped on the bed and reached for me, but his hands slammed against the plexiglass and he fell back on the bed. He scurried to his feet and jumped again, grabbing the lip and pulling himself up into the hatch.

I ran as fast as I could along the gunwale to the stern. I hesitated at the cockpit to make sure he was coming. His upper body slid through the hatch opening and he staggered to his knees on the deck. I jumped into the cockpit and hurried down the stairs. I missed the last step and landed hard on the lower deck, twisting my ankle. I crashed to the ground in pain and the knife slid across the deck.

I clambered to my feet. My laceration burned and my ankle throbbed. I hobbled across the floor, grabbed the knife, and limped into the stateroom.

Brad’s footsteps pounding overhead as he ran the length of the deck.

I climbed onto the bed and tossed my weapon through the hatch, and it clattered on the deck. I jumped for the hatch but missed and fell back onto the bed. My legs had weakened. Behind me, Brad banged down the companionway. He would be on me in seconds, and I was injured and unarmed.

I bent my knees and catapulted myself into the air. I caught the lip of the hatch and pulled with all my strength. My waist cleared the hatch and my upper body lurched onto the deck, but my legs dangled inside the stateroom.

Brad dove for me and his hand collided with my thigh. I twisted my body, and he sailed by.

I pulled myself through the hatch and watched. Brad picked himself off the floor and climbed onto the bed. I gasped for air, my heart pounded, and my foot and ankle screamed for relief. My body craved nourishment and my strength waned. I could not keep this game of cat-and-mouse going for long. He would catch me this time for sure.

I slammed the hatch shut as Brad dove for it, and his hands banged against the plexiglass. He howled in pain.

I hefted the knife, but it would not be enough. He was stronger, wild, unstoppable. I had to evade him. It was my only hope. My eyes darted around, desperate for escape. I could jump into the sea, but that meant certain death. My eyes scanned the deck for something I could use against him.

Brad jumped and shoved the hatch open, knocking me off balance.

I fell to the deck.

His hands came through the hatch.

I stomped on the glass and knocked him back down. Any minute he would realize he could use the stairs to come on deck and finish me. I could drop into the cabin, but I would not have the power to climb back up. The end drew near.

Brad pushed the hatch open again. I slashed his hand with the knife, and he screamed and fell into the cabin. Blood dripped off the blade’s edge. I had to get away, but where could I hide on a yacht? I looked over my shoulder at the bow. The bow line was coiled near the bowsprit.

That’s it.

The best place to hide on a sailboat was not on the sailboat at all. I sprinted for the bow.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

I stuck the knife handle in my mouth, snatched the coiled line off the deck, and shook the end loose. I formed a two-foot-long loop and double-knotted it, the way I tied my running shoes. I yanked eight feet of line free of the coil, wrapped it around a metal cleat, and pulled it tight.

The hatch crashed open behind me and Brad’s hands clawed at the deck.

I tossed the line off the bow and peered over the side. The loop hung two feet over