by Jan Freed
Suddenly the thought of another tense walk, each of them avoiding the other’s eyes, became unbearable. Reaching for her purse, she checked his extension line, slipped off her pumps and padded down the tiled hall to the lobby. He’d be mad as hell when he discovered she’d left, but if she didn’t put some space between them, there was no telling how she might humiliate herself.
Easing out the front door, she closed it quietly and slid into her shoes. The carpet muffled her footsteps to the elevator. She pressed the Down button and watched the hallway for Alec until the motor whined to a stop. Rushing inside, she let out a grateful breath as the doors closed.
They opened with a soft swish onto the cavernous lobby. Laura stepped out and headed for the parking garage. Ficus, philodendron and dieffenbachia stood silhouetted in the dim light. Absolute quiet enfolded her. Even the maintenance crew had come and gone.
Digging among the debris in her purse, Laura produced her key chain and the palm-size container of mace she’d bought upon arriving in Houston. Thus prepared, she pressed the exit button and slipped out a side door into the clear summer night. Three steps down, a bricked walkway roofed with Plexiglas led to the garage. As she strode forward, a balmy breeze stirred the tendrils surrounding her face. She’d pinned her hair into a loose knot that morning in deference to the heat, but no telling what it looked like now.
Tonight, only a third of the stars visible at Brazos Bend State Park had managed to penetrate the city’s cloak of polluted air and electric lights. What a difference forty miles made! Jason and Alec’s awe over the jeweled sky had renewed her appreciation for something she’d taken for granted while growing up in the country.
If only she could share her knowledge of astronomy with the two of them. Wishful thinking, she knew. After their wonderful day together, Alec had become as distant as the planet Pluto.
She stepped off brick onto concrete and sighed. Only two more days until the weekend. She could last that long, surely. Tomorrow, she would— Oomph!
A beefy hand clamped over her nose and mouth, choking off her air supply and rising scream. Adrenaline blasted through her veins as she was dragged against a massive chest. Driving an elbow into barrel ribs, she rammed her two-inch heel down like a pike. The hand covering her nose slackened. She dragged in a ragged breath. A man’s howled obscenity filtered through the roar of blood in her ears.
This can’t be happening.
His hand clamped back down against her mouth. Sinking her teeth into flesh, she twisted sharply and raised her can of mace. In the split second before she sprayed, recognition dawned.
“Help!” she screamed, depressing the button.
Jack Brewster, the slime who’d nearly raped Brenda Lee three months ago, clutched his streaming left eye with a bloody hand and knocked her mace, purse and car keys aside with the other. Currents of white-hot agony shot up her arm. Heart slamming, she turned and lurched forward. She had to get back inside the office building. To Alec.
Her feet were cement blocks. Too slow. Too clumsy on the slick concrete.
“Come back here, you bitch!”
His tackle caught her ankles. She toppled forward and hit concrete with a teeth-jarring whoosh. Mouth working, she gasped silently for air. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs burned. Tears of pain and self-recrimination blurred her vision.
Why didn’t I wait for Alec?
Then her lungs inflated. Never had oil and gas fumes smelled so sweet. A dim part of her brain registered that the concrete beneath her stomach was moving. No, she was moving. Jack pulled her toward him hand over hand like an anchor.
“I was startin’ to think you never went nowheres without that tall fella doggin’ your tail. ‘Course, now I seen it up close, cain’t say as I blame’m none,” Jack said, snickering.
Alec wouldn’t save her. There was only herself to blame. Only herself to rely on.
“Know what I thought about waitin’ for my trial? I thought about what I was gonna do to you and that slut, Brenda Lee, when I got outta jail.”
The hands had slipped beneath her dress now. They grasped her thighs and pulled with the strength of a bull. She choked back a scream. He would enjoy knocking her senseless, and her only chance of escape was to remain alert.
“I woulda waited long as it took. But my lawyer, he got me off on a technicality. Ain’t America great?” He laughed, an obnoxious donkey bray of sound, then hauled her across his lap. “I got me a van over there. You and me are gonna take a little ride in a minute and have a real good time now that you’re cooperatin’.” A callused hand slid up over her buttocks, alternately stroking and squeezing.
She closed her eyes and shuddered. If only she had a weapon. Her fingernails would have to do. If she left this garage with him, she was a dead woman.
“At first I was mad ‘cause Brenda Lee always had that guy with the glasses hangin’ around. Then I seen you up close, with all that wild hair around your face. Man, you were somethin’.”
Hair. Laura’s eyelids popped open. The ceiling whirled as she was flipped over and inspected hungrily.
“Hell, you’re classier ‘n that trash, Brenda Lee, and just as hot.” He licked thick lips and thrust out his hips. “I’m gonna show you what a real man feels like.”
With one eye swollen shut and a yellow leer on his broad flat face, he looked grotesque—as ugly as she remembered. She prayed he was also as stupid.
She reached up to pat her head in a coy gesture. “I must look terrible.”
His gaze latched onto her uplifted breast. The minute his hand followed, she frantically probed her tumbled hair knot. There! Yanking out a long pin, she looked away and stabbed the two-pronged weapon in the vicinity of his undamaged eye.
Bile rose in her throat as metal pierced something resilient. A high thin scream raised the hairs on her neck. She scrambled off his lap before the sound died.
“I’m gonna kill you, you goddamn bitch!” Virtually blinded, he swiped the air like a wounded grizzly.
Laura scuttled backward on hands and knees, panting in shallow breaths.
“You hear me, whore? I’m gonna make you wish you’d never been born a woman.” He lunged forward as she leapt up.
“Nooo!” she wailed, straining against the vise grip on her foot. Oh, God, he was too strong! She couldn’t resist much longer. What a senseless way to die. Alec would blame himself, and Jason...Jason would be devastated at losing another woman he loved.
In one final surge of defiance, she threw her full weight forward, stumbling to catch her balance when her foot jerked free. She glanced back in shock.
Jack sat holding her leather pump like some macabre Prince Charming from hell. She fought down an hysterical bubble of laughter, kicked off her other shoe and ran.
Pounding down the brick walkway, she tuned her senses behind her. Jack’s maddened roar of frustration curdled her blood. The entry door seemed miles away. Her muscles screamed in a hundred different places. Pebbles jabbed the soles of her feet. Her breath wheezed raggedly.
She leapt up the steps and hit the metal bar at full speed, recoiling in a daze of pain. Locked. A security panel to the right displayed rows of buttons, similar to a telephone. The code. What was the entry code? Numbers tumbled in her mind, none of them falling into place. She glanced wildly over her shoulder.
Jack was staggering toward her in a nightmarish parody of Frankenstein’s monster’s walk.
Laura spun back and stabbed five buttons. A red light winked mockingly. Jack was yelling, but she couldn’t make out his words over the jackhammer in her chest. What was it Alec had said about the code? Something about food. Remember Jason’s favorite food.
Pizza!
Punching the code with trembling fingers, Laura sobbed with relief when a green light flashed. She shoved her hip against the bar and burst inward, whirling to slam the door shut. The automatic door closer resisted her efforts to hurry. Come on, come on. She peered through the narrowing gap in horror as Jack groped his way up the
steps and launched himself toward the door. The blessed click of a lock sounded only an instant before a jarring crash shook the frame.
She was safe.
Sinking to the floor on rubbery legs, she stared vacantly into space. The bar outside the door rattled several times, then stopped.
Alec. She had to get to Alec. Her body felt boneless. Cold. She would never be able to stand, much less get to the seventeenth floor.
Setting her jaw, Laura pushed against the floor and slowly rose.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ALEC HUNG UP the phone, templed his fingers and smiled. Good thing Jason was on a camping trip with the Thompsons. Working late definitely had its advantages.
On a hunch, Alec had caught Daniel Merrick in his office at 7:30 a.m. London, England, time during the lull before the storm of a busy day. If their meeting next week went as well as the conversation they’d just had, Hayes and McDonald Advertising would take a giant leap in billings.
He owed Sam a big one. Over the years, the hotelier had made a point to cultivate relationships with the more prominent businessmen frequenting Regency Hotels. And Daniel certainly qualified.
When Sam had casually mentioned he’d referred Hayes and McDonald Advertising to the vice-president of Littlefield, Ltd., Alec had been thrilled, but cautious. The London-based company was an international retail giant, way out of league for a midsize agency. But it seemed the company was seeking four American regional agencies to coordinate efforts with its London agency of record. Hayes and McDonald Advertising was now in contention for handling the Southwest region. Alec would call a staff meeting tomorrow and—
A door clattered open. He shot to his feet. “Laura?”
Silence.
Checking his watch, he frowned. The cleaning crew had finished hours ago. He entered the hallway, trotted past Jim’s and Harold’s offices and stopped at the next doorway. Damn.
“Laura?” he called louder.
A small choked sound from the reception area tunneled straight to his heart, stopping it cold. Panic jump started the muscle into overdrive. He ran up the hall and paused, bracing one hand against the curved archway as the blood drained from his face.
“Laura?” he whispered.
She stood swaying on shoeless feet, in the middle of the lobby. Black oily stains smeared the front of her dress from collar to hem. The remains of a loosely wound bun sagged drunkenly over one ear, the majority of hair having slipped free to tangle about her shoulders. Her huge golden eyes, stark with shock, stared above cheeks blanched of any color save streaks of drying blood.
Blood. Alec fought a wave of dizziness and stared, numb with horror and guilt. Blood again. The women in his life seemed destined to wear it.
Laura’s knees sagged.
Shaking off his paralysis, he rushed forward and crushed her against his chest. “What in God’s name happened?”
A small whimper escaped her throat.
He stroked her back. “Shh. It’s all right. You’re safe.”
Tremors rippled through her body. Her ribs rose and fell with her quick panting breaths.
His mouth tightened. “What happened?”
She burrowed her face into his shoulder and shook her head.
“Laura, I’ve got to know what happened so I can help you.” He pulled back and rubbed his thumbs against her forearms. “Take a deep breath. There, that’s it. Now, one word at a time.”
“I wa...wa...was...” Her chin quivered between stammers. “A...t-t-tacked!” She doubled over, fist to her mouth, obviously fighting off nausea.
He massaged her shoulders and helped her straighten, a terrible coldness lending calm to his voice.
“You were attacked by a man?” At her mute nod, the ice inside him broke, shattered by a burst of hot violent fury unlike any he’d felt before. “Did he hurt you?”
Her shrug and half sob could have meant anything.
He unclenched his jaw. “Did you see who it was?”
She nodded. “J-Jack B-B-Brewster.” Her eyes reflected inner revulsion. “He was h-hiding in the g-ga-rage.”
Alec spun around and slammed his fist on the reception desk. “Damn it! I thought that slime bucket was behind bars.” The idea of the big ugly brute touching Laura—or worse—hazed his vision. He picked up the phone receiver and started to dial.
Laura stumbled forward and clutched his arm. “No police! N-not yet.”
The haze lifted and hovered, waiting to drift back and enfold him completely. “I have to call, Laura. He’ll get away.”
“He can’t s-see. I s-stabbed him. In the eye. W-with my hairpin.”
Alec stared in amazement. She’d defeated a man twice her size with only her wits and courage. Even so, she shook so hard he heard her teeth rattle.
Without a word, he swung her into his arms, carried her to the couch and settled her on the soft leather. When he tried to straighten, she clung to his neck.
“D-don’t call the police. Don’t leave me. Promise,” she begged.
“I promise,” he said, removing her hands with a reassuring squeeze. “Lie still. I’ll be right back.”
Alec raced down the hallway to the small kitchen. As he gathered the items he needed, his mind prioritized actions. The police would have to be called, but first he would make Laura as comfortable as possible and determine the extent of her injuries. If she’d been raped, he’d bypass the cops altogether and go after the son of a bitch himself.
He squeezed a dishcloth in his hands, wishing it was Jack’s neck. One way or another, Alec would make sure the bastard never hurt another woman again.
* * *
LAURA OPENED her eyes at Alec’s approach and struggled to sit up. He set a loaded plastic tray on the coffee table and sat beside her, studying her with brittle intensity.
“Some of your color is back. Feeling better?”
“A little.” She tried to smile and winced at the sharp stab of pain in her head.
He reached over and uncapped the bottle of Chivas Regal sitting on the tray. Splashing an inch of Scotch into a small juice glass, he held the liquor under her nose. “Drink this. I personally guarantee it will put roses in your cheeks—or hair on your chest.”
This time she managed a tiny smile. As she took the glass, her fingers brushed his. The odd little catch in her heart had nothing to do with lingering fear and everything to do with Alec’s worried regard. She knocked back the liquid fire in one swallow, then shuddered.
“Tastes like turpentine.”
He set her glass on the tray, picked up the wet dishcloth and began cleaning her face. “John Bates insisted I learn to tolerate the stuff. Said it was a man’s drink, and together with playing golf, indispensable to doing business. After a while, I learned to like it.” He snorted. “Drinking Scotch, that is.”
She let her eyes drift shut and hugged her stomach. The liquor hadn’t vanquished her terrible chill.
“You’re going to have a hell of a bruise here tomorrow,” Alec said after a moment, dabbing gently at the lump on her forehead.
Numb, she barely noticed the pain.
“Want to tell me now how you got it?”
“P-probably when he tackled me.” Her teeth chattered intermittently. She felt so cold. So violated. Felt huge paws grasping her ankles, pulling her backward into terror....
Alec dropped the cloth and grabbed her hands. “Hang in there, Laura. We’ve got to call the police, but I need to know whether to ask for medical assistance. Do you understand?”
She flushed, but held his gaze. “Yes. I’m a little bruised, but he didn’t rape me. Jack could use a good doctor, though.” Memory of the nightmarish struggle came surging back, swamping her in horror. “Oh, Alec, it was so awful.”
In one smooth motion, he pulled her forward and hitched her onto his lap. She curled one arm around his neck and snuggled her cheek against his heart. Toying with the buttons of his shirt, she sighed. If only she could stay here forever, his hard muscles cradling her, his heat
surrounding her, his end-of-day scent more man than cologne. If only she could stay, she would ask nothing more from life.
His arms tightened. “What happened, honey?”
The endearment unraveled her. Haltingly, she recounted her experience from the time she’d left the building to the impact of Jack’s body against the locked door. By the time she finished, the contrast between remembered terror and the safety of Alec’s arms shattered her calm.
“It’s time to call in the hounds,” Alec pronounced, his voice hard and clipped. He sat forward and prepared to slide her off of his lap.
Laura wound her other arm around his neck and clung. What did her pride matter, when life could be snuffed out in an instant? Each moment was a gift. She was in the arms of the man she loved. And she needed to feel alive. Needed desperately to replace the feel of Jack’s touch with Alec’s.
“All I could think about all the time I thought I might die was getting to you,” she whispered in his ear. Taking the lobe of his ear in her mouth, she nibbled the soft skin.
“What are you doing?”
She trailed kisses down his neck, pulling his starched collar away with one finger to give her better access. His pulse throbbed hotly against her mouth. She flicked his skin with her tongue and thrilled at the corresponding surge beneath her thighs.
“Jeez, Laura. What’s gotten into you?” His voice sounded strangled. He clutched a fistful of her hair and tipped her head back.
Neck arched, she watched him under lowered lashes. “Nothing...yet. I’m hoping you’ll change that.”
As awareness dawned, his fingers loosened. It was all the invitation Laura needed. She was beyond shyness, beyond anything but the swollen heat, the musky smell, the leashed power of Alec. Her hands reached for the top button of his shirt. He intercepted them by grasping her wrists.
