by Angi Morgan
The house was empty. Still...it felt as if the walls were shaking. Impossible. It must be her insides.
Brian had been right. Now that she knew about the panic attacks, she could recognize the signs and try to prevent them. She peeked around the door. A creepy feeling hit her, like watching a scary movie where you knew someone was about to die. Creepier still...the shaking couldn’t be her imagination. Impossible. It must be her insides. She took a deep, deep breath and let it out slowly.
No shaking. No panic.
Entering the hallway, she ran her fingers along the wall to guide her. Something hit the other side...in her bedroom. “Brian?”
“Lindsey! Run!”
Chapter Eleven
The body slams, crashes and sounds of a fight grew louder as Lindsey ran straight to Brian’s voice. The dresser overturned, the mirror smashed in front of her at the door. She flipped the lights on. Glass and small objects had been knocked from the dresser and mixed with the blood on the bed.
Worrying about the dead woman’s body struck her as a bit bizarre. She watched a man dressed in a black jumpsuit wait for Brian’s attack near the closet. Brian swung, connected with the man’s ribs, spinning him sideways. But the man in black countered by slamming the back of Brian’s thigh, forcing his knee to the carpet.
Then the man in black lifted something shiny from the floor.
“He has a knife!”
“Get out of here, Lindsey!” Brian shouted between defensive grunts. “Now!”
Trying to help Brian didn’t make a lot of sense. She should run, but couldn’t. If no one heard the woman scream, they wouldn’t hear her either. He needed professional help—the police. Her phone was in the car. Frightened for them both, she released her grip on the door frame and turned. The bedsprings creaked and time slowed.
It was as though each second was recorded in her mind with an exclamation point. The creak made her look behind her.
The man leaped across the bed, stepping on the poor woman’s legs. His arm stretched toward her.
Two more steps and her body lurched in reverse, back into the bedroom. He jerked her hair, yanking while she screamed. She lost her footing, slamming to the floor. He was over her, the knife raised.
Even his eyes were distorted with thick, shaded glasses. The knife descended, she threw her hand up to deflect. Pain. Her own hiss and scream blocked out all the other sound. Where was Brian?
A deep shout, more of rage than warning, and the man in black disappeared from her view.
She rolled to her stomach and blinked away the automatic wetness in her eyes. The knife shot against the door, bouncing past her into the hall. The man kicked the side of Brian’s knee sending him to the floor. He jumped over her, scooped up his knife and ran.
“You okay?” Brian asked, pursuing him through the door.
“Catch him,” she gritted through her teeth.
Brian’s running steps vibrated the wood floor where she rested her cheek and sucked a few painful breaths through her teeth. She crawled to her feet, staggered to the hall bath, got a hand towel for her arm and locked the door.
If Brian didn’t return... He will.
The door shook with the pounding. “Lindsey!”
She trembled so badly it was hard to turn the knob to let him inside. Should she? Was he alone? Was there a knife to his throat forcing him to call out to her?
“He’s gone, honey. I saw him drive away. You all right?”
“I’m...I’m fine.” She twisted the knob and lurched backward as Brian stumbled into her. She tried to get past him. “Let’s get out of here.”
“That bastard cut you?”
“Let’s look at it later.” She turned her injured arm away from him, trying to shove the rock in front of her aside. “Did he hurt you?”
Brian used his calming gaze and gently prodded her to the sink. Looking into his face and feeling his soothing touch made her think everything would be okay.
“You’re going to need sutures. I’ll get the wound cleaned a bit, then get you to an E.R.” He turned the water on, ready to clean her cut. “This is going to hurt.”
“Later.” She jerked her arm to her side, blood oozing from the gash. He reached for her arm again and she turned from him, reapplying the towel. She moved away from his comforting arms. “No doctors. Please, just get me out of here.”
“We do this now, Lindsey, or I drive you straight to the hospital.”
Didn’t he know he was covered in blood? Was it his or the dead woman’s? She was beginning to gag at the thought.
“Please take that shirt off. Jeremy’s clothes are still in his room. I’ll rinse my arm while you get rid of it.”
From the corner of her eye she watched him in the mirror as he shoved away from the counter and jerked the T-shirt over his head. “I need to take care of this now.”
She closed her eyes. “Please change.”
She heard the running stride of his boots, then they disappeared on carpet.
Before she lost her courage, she quickly forced her arm under the running water, gritting her teeth in agony as the sink turned red below her. Queasy and surprised she hadn’t pulled out all her hair, she got a clean towel and put it on her arm.
Brian reappeared in a tight-fitting T-shirt Jeremy had worn all the time. “Got first-aid tape?”
“Maybe in the cabinet behind me.”
He looked at the wound, pulled the sides together and replaced the towel. “The closest hospital is on I-20. I can get us there in eight or nine minutes. They’ll take good care of you.”
“I’m staying with you.”
“That gash is deep enough to need sutures,” he said as he dropped the tape on the counter.
“You did your own.”
“But—”
“You said this killer won’t stop until I’m dead. All the reasons we weren’t going to the police still apply.” She tapped her finger against his chest. She knew he agreed with her when his brows drew into as straight a line as his lips. “I’m sticking with you until we catch this son of a bitch.”
Chapter Twelve
“Choose a bed, Goldilocks.” Brian set her suitcase down next to the bathroom and tugged her cousin’s shirt over his head.
Wicked-tight jeans drew her attention to his bare lower back and then up to his sculpted shoulder blades. He put water on to boil. She was either completely woozy from the cut and car ride or the attraction was growing so strong she couldn’t stop thinking of running her fingers over his strong shoulders again.
Then he faced her and she noticed the tint of his skin was pink from the blood-soaked shirt he’d left at Jeremy’s.
“I’ll get my sewing kit.” His long stride took him into the bedroom faster than she had time to react.
She knew what the water and kit were for. Cleaning her arm and his scrapes. There would be no complaints from her. Complaints would land her dropped off at an emergency room. The last thing she wanted was to be separated from this man she’d come to trust so quickly.
Convincing the authorities she was in danger would be very difficult without evidence. This murderer couldn’t be infallible. Somewhere, at some time, he had to have made a mistake. And she was going to find it.
“You weren’t kidding about beds and nothing else,” she said, loud enough he could hear her in the bedroom. With a stiff upper lip, she peeled off the packing tape Brian had used to hold the towel in place. She tried not to dislodge the towel, afraid it would start bleeding. If it hadn’t stopped, Brian swore they’d be on their way to the hospital.
“Kick your high heels off and get comfy,” he said from behind the closed door.
The place was tiny but open. There was a futon on one wall folded as a couch, with the sheets folded on the end. She sat facin
g the television, leaning back to get rid of the wooziness in her stomach.
“This place is surprisingly clean. Are you sure it’s six men sharing? I expected a lot worse.”
“Yeah. Six males, but I’ll admit that one of the guys pays Debbi—she lives down the hall—to pick up, do the dishes and the laundry.”
“Now the cleanliness makes sense.” She had the tape off by the time Brian returned without the pink-stained chest.
“I pick up after myself,” he said, swiping his chest dry. “I do let her wash my towels and sheets since we all share them.”
She closed her eyes, unable to watch as he peeled back the makeshift bandage. He wore gloves, and had gauze pads ready to replace the dish towel on her forearm.
“You ready?” he asked with a steady voice.
She nodded, her mouth suddenly dry, silently praying it wasn’t as deep as he’d thought. But behind her closed lids, she fell onto a carpeted hallway, a man with bottle glasses and a large knife headed for her. She jumped when Brian touched her arm.
“You drifted a minute. I’m ready to give this a shot. Are you certain?”
“It was just the gloves. They reminded me of the attack.”
Brian’s finger touched her chin, coaxing her to look into his rich brown eyes. “This is really going to hurt, Lindsey.”
“Is this normal practice for paramedics? To scare their patients before beginning?” His eyes soothed her as much as the gentle touch he had through his gloved fingers. “Did you learn how to stitch people up in paramedic school?”
“Taught myself for the horses. Cheaper than a vet coming out when one of ’em got sliced.” He went into the kitchen.
“You mean—”
“Drink this.” He set a tea glass full of her favorite deep, dark merlot onto the side table.
“If I consume all that on an empty, woozy stomach, I’ll be drunk. I may even throw up.”
“Something important for me to remember—the lady can’t hold her liquor.” He sat on a chair he’d brought from the card table in the kitchen. “I’m serious. I need you relaxed. I can’t deaden it and it’ll hurt worse if you’re jerking your arm.”
When he picked up the needle and wet thread, she picked up the wine, squeezed her eyes shut and guzzled. She concentrated on a picture of his jeans and tapered waist. The muscles in his back. The picture of him was so vibrant there was actually a catch in her breathing.
“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing,” he soothed.
Her imagination didn’t prepare her for the level of pain that a tiny needle created when punched under her skin. But his voice assured her through everything he did, every step of the way, no surprises. Once he was done, she saw six neat stitches before he covered her entire upper arm with a bandage.”
“Think you have enough tape?” she asked remembering some of the images she’d concentrated on of him in those tight-fitting jeans. She’d drunk the wine much too fast and was definitely tipsy.
“If you won’t let me take you to the hospital for antibiotics or... Yeah, you’re keeping the bandage. First sign of infection and there won’t be any talking me out of a real doctor. Got it?”
“I agree. No arguing.” She carefully formed her words so they wouldn’t slur. “Thanks for doing...well, for everything, Brian.”
She’d been a flirt since the second grade and Ronnie Willhite had told her she was pretty and wanted to kiss her. She wanted to crawl onto Brian’s lap, wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him until his vision was as blurred as hers. But she slumped back against the cushion instead.
One short nod and he put away his equipment. “Showers and then some shut-eye, unless you feel like eating.”
The thought of food made her head swim. “I don’t know how you expect to sleep while that murdering serial killer is still out there.”
“I plan on relaxing and closing my eyes.”
“But—” He handed her a second glass of wine.
“I can’t drink that. The room’s already spinning.”
“Good. You need some shut-eye.” He set the glass on the table next to her.
When he smiled, she wanted to forget everything except the kiss they’d shared that morning. She wanted to be back in front of the barn with her legs wrapped tight around his waist. Or maybe sitting on his lap again, even with a snake slithering in the corner. It beat having a serial killer slither free outside their door.
“We can’t stay here. It can’t possibly be safe.”
“We weren’t followed, and a former Navy SEAL and former Marine will be outside watching the place very shortly.”
“You forgot to explain.”
“I sent a message to my brother. He got in touch with one of his buddies. We’ll get some rest, and as soon as the cops show up at the ranch, he’ll take the Camaro home, leaving us Mabel’s sedan. For the moment, we’re safe enough for you to get some rest. You’re going to need it.”
She lifted the glass and he clanked it, following a salute with his beer bottle. He walked to the window covered in thick black curtains, lifting the edge to take a look at the street below.
“A Marine and a SEAL?”
“That’s right. John’s calling a buddy. One’ll be out front and the other ’round back. That should make you feel safer than a police squad car. Mac’s already here.” He disappeared into the bedroom, continuing his explanation. “He’ll have a phone for us. If you want on the Net, codes are taped to the side of the TV. Bolt this thing behind me. Or you could fall asleep. I’ve got a key.”
He ran out the door, pulling a T-shirt on, hiding the handgun stuffed in his pants, and she was alone. She should be upset that he’d made the arrangements without telling her. Or maybe she wasn’t because she was relaxed enough not to care. Either way, she would not be falling asleep anytime soon.
Not even with guards to protect her and being slightly drunk. But she could begin searching Jeremy’s laptop and powered it up. Most everything she did on the internet for the past four months had been on her phone. She’d lost most of her web clients after her cousin’s death because she’d been dealing with his affairs and getting into the habit of working somewhere every day again.
Now she was glad she hadn’t given away any of her cousin’s things. Even his clothes hung in his closet. It was time to give it all to charity. The idea of being so alone no one else would want anything you left behind made her so sad. But there wasn’t anyone left.
She was alone.
All because of a horrible man targeting their entire family. “Why? Why us?” The laptop didn’t power up correctly. It was trying to open nonexistent files on a memory stick Jeremy had left plugged in. She removed it and dropped it back in the bag. When everything was booted and signed on, she skimmed one file, then another. Brian walked in, moved the merlot closer to her fingertips and she sipped.
“Should I tell someone I won’t be coming into work tomorrow?” She sipped again, the merlot warming her shakes away. “Beth will probably stop by Jeremy’s after work tonight to see if I’m okay.”
“They might get a call before they close. Homicide arrived at your house shortly after we left.”
“How would they know where I work?”
“Paystubs? Did you ever sell a phone to a neighbor? Anybody around there know where you work?” He walked to the window again.
“Oh, I guess they do. It’s more likely that they remember Jeremy managed that store.”
“That’s good.” Then back to the kitchen, where he put some of the food she’d taken from the house into the refrigerator.
“Oh, my gosh. You want the police to think that dead woman is me?”
“For a couple of days. Long enough to find out why this guy wants you dead. He’s obsessed with your family. There has to be a reason.”
She set the laptop on the futon and quickly stood. She probably would have fallen straight off her high heels she’d been wearing all day. She was shaky even on bare feet. “Brian, did that woman look a lot like me?”
He encircled her within his arms and she knew the answer before he said, “Yes.”
“That’s the reason he did those things to her face?”
He nodded, holding her tighter. “He also burned her fingerprints away.”
“That’s horrible. She died because of me. How can I live with that? No one else can die, Brian.” Her fingers curled into a ball around his shirt. “Who’s to say my life was worth more than hers?”
“Me, for one. Not more, but just as important. And I think your cousin would want you to live.” He kissed her forehead, keeping her safe in his embrace.
“You don’t know me.” She tilted her face to look at him.
“Then that’s something we’ll have to change.”
Brian delivered a trail of hot kisses down the side of her face. His short, practical fingernails gently gathered her hair as his lips continued a path back up to her forehead. Lindsey turned her mouth into his path, and the fireworks were as explosive as the kiss earlier that morning.
Their tongues danced and explored. His fingers barely grazed her waist and then she felt a tug on both sides of her shirt. Brian backed away, leaving her lips cold and desperate for more of him.
“As much as I’d like to keep on with this—” he dropped another kiss on her cheek “—I’m dead on my feet and heading to bed.” He stood and stretched his arms high, raising his shirt to expose an inch of his flat belly. “And no, that’s not an invitation, unless you want to curl up in my arms. Our first time is not going to be when we could be interrupted at any moment by my brother.”
She stood there with her mouth open at the audacity of his words. Our first time? If she hadn’t agreed with him, she’d be insulted at his assumption. But she was super attracted to him and wanted to explore more of those abs she’d caught a glimpse of.
