Chapter 513
Sheridan never imagined that even with booze and whatever drugs she’d been dosed with, a woman could still put up such a brutal fight. He lunged, tearing at Katrina ’s shirt, but before he could react, she bit down hard on his ear.
Pain exploded through his head. He howled, grabbing a fistful of Katrina’s hair and yanking her away, then smacked her across the face. The fight drained right out of Katrina. The dizziness from the alcohol and the strange, burning heat spreading through her body blurred her world into a haze. Her vision swam; everything felt unreal.
“What are you standing there for? Strip her!” Sheridan snapped at Emma , pressing a bloody hand to his ear, his face twisted with rage.
Emma snapped out of her daze, but the memory of Katrina vomiting all over her moments ago filled her with disgust. She hesitated, unwilling to get close.
“What? You want a beating too?”
Sheridan’s menacing glare made her flinch. She gave in, stepping forward to fumble at Katrina’s jeans. This time, Katrina didn’t resist.
But just as Emma tugged Katrina’s jeans down, a sudden, violent pounding erupted at the door. Emma jumped, spinning around, her eyes wide with terror. “Who is it? Who’s out there?”
Sheridan, too focused on punishing Katrina, spat a curse. “Who the hell cares? That bitch isn’t getting out of here alive!” He turned, yanking his belt from his pants, then straddled Katrina on the bed, pinning her down. He began binding Katrina’s wrists with the belt, rough and careless.
Katrina struggled, but she barely had any strength left. The effort made her retch again, and it was clear she was about to throw up. Sure enough, Sheridan had barely finished tying her wrists when Katrina gagged and vomited—all over the pillow this time, unable to move.
Chapter 513 (Continued)
The stench made Sheridan nearly gag himself. He didn’t even have time to hurl an insult before the door shuddered under a furious kick.
“Open up! Emma, I know you and Sheridan are in there! You’re committing a crime—let Katrina go, now!”
Emma’s face went white. She called to Sheridan, panic rising in her voice. “Someone’s here! What do we do?” She had no idea who was outside or whose voice it was.
Sheridan was thrown, too, but before he could answer, more footsteps thundered in the hallway, accompanied by urgent, overlapping voices. He and Emma exchanged panicked glances.
Out in the hall, Jamison and Ivy had arrived—along with the hotel manager, clutching a key card. With a beep and a crash, the door swung open.
Four, maybe five figures burst into the room.
Sheridan, astride Katrina, stared at the sudden intruders—Jamison and his crew—shock and fury warring on his face. Emma recoiled instinctively, backing away from the bed, bewildered at how Ivy had found them so quickly.
“Katrina!” Ivy’s voice cracked as she saw her friend, disheveled and exposed. She rushed forward, frantic.
“Ivy!” Jamison was right behind her.
Naylor followed close, his expression thunderous. He was no saint, but he prided himself on being a gentleman; he’d never forced himself on anyone. Every girl he’d ever dated or left had always had kind words for him. He’d long despised Sheridan’s predatory ways. Now he lunged, grabbing Sheridan and dragging him off Katrina, driving his fists into the man’s face—once, twice, hard.
Ivy didn’t spare Sheridan a glance. Her heart broke at the sight of her friend. She yanked the blanket up, covering Katrina’s trembling body.
“Jamison! Quick—” She cradled Katrina’s head, her voice hoarse and frantic, desperate for her husband to help.
Jamison was already there, gently checking Katrina over.
Meanwhile, Emma tried to slip away in the chaos, but two men in black suits—hotel security, watching her from the hallway—blocked her path.
“How is she? Is Katrina okay?” Ivy’s voice shook, but she forced herself to keep calm, lowering her voice so as not to break Jamison’s concentration.
“Vitals are stable, no serious injury—just some bruises,” Jamison said briskly, lifting the blanket to check Katrina, unfazed by the situation. He glanced up at Ivy, giving a small shake of his head. “Don’t worry. We got here in time. She wasn’t assaulted.” Jamison’s gaze shifted to the water stains on the nightstand, then to the puddle on the floor. He picked up a glass and sniffed it, brow furrowing.
Something was off.
“Naylor.” His voice was cold, slicing through the room. “What did you give her?” He glared at Sheridan, still struggling on the floor, his face bloody and wild.
Sheridan spat blood, eyes wild with defiance. “Aren’t you the doctor? Aren’t you supposed to be so damn clever? Why don’t you take a guess?”
Just then, the two security guards marched Emma back into the room, holding her by the elbows.
Ivy’s glare sharpened as she focused on Emma. “What did you give her?”
Emma gave a cold, bitter laugh. “Oh, we gave her something real nice. Ivy, she’s suffering because of you. Hate me for it if you want. Go ahead! Ha! Ha ha ha—”