When Perfect Meets Crazy novel Chapter 46

I turned back, ready to return to the audience when a dark figure filled my field of vision, a hand clamping down on my mouth before I could scream. Fear like never before exploded in my chest. Even worse than when my dad was in one of his moods.

Unthinkingly, I swung my fist out, aiming for the throat. Never had I been gladder for muscle memory and adrenaline induced clear headedness. Even as terror choked me, I found myself objectively itemizing perceived weaknesses and attack points.

My hand curved in a perfect arc heading for his throat. He released me in favor of blocking the blow. It was expected but a part of me was still shocked it had worked.

Before my hand even connected with his raised forearms, I began executing my next move. My leg swung out, catching his side less than a second later. Parker would’ve been so proud of me.

The assailant cursed under his breath and made another grab for me.

I was ready this time. I jabbed my elbow in his armpit. It wasn’t a calculated move and as soon as I did it, I wanted to slap myself. Parker would not have approved of such a clumsy tactic.

It had barely been a second since my elbow made contact but my mind was on an adrenaline high and processing things a mile a second. I readied myself to take whatever hit would come next.

But nothing came.

My terror abated a little when his grimace finally registered in my brain. I saw, more than heard, the pained grunts escaping from his lips. My ears were filled with white noise. I couldn’t hear anything over it. Not even sounds of impact from our scuffle.

I finally noticed he was awkwardly cradling the arm of the armpit I had hit to his torso, shooting me a look that promised pain in my immediate future if he got his way.

I must’ve hit a funny bone.

I sent up a quick prayer of gratitude for the lucky accident. There was no conscious decision. No weighing my options. My brain wasn’t even processing options. Only one thing popped into my head; run.

My fist made contact with his nose while he was still distracted by the effects of the armpit hit. It didn’t break but I was willing to bet it still hurt immensely. I turned on my heel ready to bolt regardless of the direction.

“Shit,” he cursed softly behind me. “Little bitch. Ian conveniently did not mention that.”

I stopped on my tracks. Froze was more like it.

“Who are you?” I fell into a defensive stance as I turned around.

“Did your dad teach you that move?” He grunted, slowly righting himself.

The way he said it sent shivers down my spine. It wasn’t particularly malicious but the thought that he knew my dad was chilling.

“Who are you?” I swallowed.

He inclined his head as though taunting me; guess. I drew in a shaky breath, my hands clenching into fists as a warning.

“Give it your best shot.” His expression was condescending even as his eyes hardened to glaciers.

He knew me. Knew Ian. Knew my dad was the sheriff and was confident enough to not care.

“Town?” I asked, suspicion coloring my tone.

I refrained from saying his full name in case I was wrong and it wasn’t Agent Townsend. If it was him, that should be enough of a hint for him to know that I knew and if it wasn’t him, whoever it was wouldn’t be able to claim the identity and pretend to be him.

“That little bastard.” He hissed, eyes narrowing in distaste. “He told you about me too.”

Relief spread through my lungs. It was him.

“I figured it out.” I hissed back, still maintaining my defensive stance. “What were you trying to do just now?”

“Well, I wa--” He frowned, abruptly stopping.

His gaze met mine, distrust mirroring in both.

“What are you doing here?” His tone was just as suspicious as mine. “According to Ian, you’d never voluntarily step foot in this place.”

“I would not,” I agreed and straightened up. Something about his response set me at ease. Reminded me he was one of the good guys. “We shouldn’t be here. We should talk somewhere else.”

He nodded, understanding filled his gaze as it flitted down the corridor. It was too open and conspicuous. Anyone, precisely the people I had been following, could walk back any second.

“Fine. Follow me.”

He led me in the opposite direction, down a series of corridors I didn’t recognize. Distrustfully eyeing the back of his head, I palmed the taser in my pocket, silently reassuring myself of its presence.

He kept going, deeper and deeper into the heart of the building. Just as I began seriously contemplating whether or not to tase him and make a run for it, we finally turned into a hallway I recognized. It was the one that led me to Ian’s dressing room last time.

I sighed in relief, grateful that I wouldn’t have to resort to attacking a federal agent. Well, any more than I already had.

With two sharp raps of his knuckle, the door swung open to reveal an anxious Ian.

“Were you able to loose Con?” he asked immediately, not noticing me behind Townsend’s bulky frame.

“Yes. I didn’t make it back in time though,” Townsend answered. “Next time.”

It was a promise that had me shivering lightly. Ian heaved a sigh, disappointment clear on his features. He pushed the door open wide and walked back into the room, to sit down.

I interpreted what I had heard and decided they was referring to the men I followed in some way. It would explain why Townsend was in that corridor. If this Con was the lookout, then it explained why I didn’t get caught. Con must have been preoccupied keeping Townsend away. Hence why I was able to slip through. No wonder it seemed too easy.

Townsend shuffled inside and I followed behind him, shutting the door in our wake.