by Cate Beauman
Ethan ran to the car, ground his teeth while he waited for Lil to limp to the passenger side.
As she shut her door, he peeled out of the lot and she squealed, “Slow down, young man.”
Ethan glanced over. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” He had to get to Sarah.
The ten-minute drive took five. When Ethan came to a screeching halt, Lil hit him with her purse. “You’re insane, absolutely insane.”
He ran from the car up to the front desk. “I need a ticket to L.A. for the next available flight.”
“You’re in luck. We have one seat left. Let’s hurry though. They’re boarding now.”
“Perfect.”
Fifteen minutes later, Ethan was in the air. He seethed inside, full of self-loathing, knowing this was his fault. Sarah wouldn’t have left if he’d stuck to his plan of walking the beach instead of going to the pool.
He remembered how she’d looked when their eyes met across the long bar. Surprise had quickly turned to shocked hurt. At the time it brought a quick moment of pleasure before her glass crashed to the ground and she’d hurried off.
He pressed his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. Fuck, why was he such an asshole? Why couldn’t he have let her explain? There was little doubt in his mind that she would’ve had a simple explanation.
Somewhere during his boring exchange with… What the hell was her name? Who cared? Somewhere during their conversation—if he wanted to call it that—he’d realized he’d been completely wrong. He’d been about to excuse himself from the bar and apologize when he got the call from Austin.
Sarah would never hurt him; not on purpose; not the way he’d hurt her.
If anything happened to her…
He fisted his hands in his lap. No, he couldn’t let himself believe that anything would. The cops would be there.
Sarah frowned when the taxi pulled into her driveway. Austin’s car wasn’t there. “Where is he?”
The cabbie looked in his rearview mirror. “Do you want me to wait?”
“Yes, please.” A few short weeks before, she never would’ve been afraid to stand alone outside her own home in the dark. She scanned her yard, the darkened windows, the light burning bright in her front entrance, and zeroed in on her door, relieved when she didn’t see blue roses waiting for her.
She spotted the police cruiser sitting down the road in the stream of the street lamp and smiled. “You know what? I think I’m all set.”
“You sure?”
“I am.” She slipped the cabbie an extra ten.
“Thanks, lady.”
Sarah pulled her suitcase out of the cab and walked to the door as the yellow car drove away. She let herself in the house, turned on a light, armed the panel, checking it three times. Because the cop was just down the street, she relaxed a little, but she would feel better when Austin arrived. She glanced at her watch. He would be pulling up with Hailey and her baby any minute.
Spooked by the silence, Sarah turned on the stereo. A jumpy Top-40 beat burst from the speakers and she sang along.
She’d shower first, then dig through the fridge to find something to make for everyone—or maybe they would just order out for pizza.
Sarah checked the panel on her way back through the living room, reassured by the red light blinking. She stepped into the bathroom, locked the door, turned on the water. Because the music was drowned out by the spray, she turned on the small radio she kept on the shelf above the sink. Undressed, she pulled her hair into a bun, stepped into the heat and steam, hoping to drown away her troubles.
It was fate, he was sure of it. She was home alone—finally. Zeke waited behind the pink rose bush, close to the officer’s body. The fucking pig should’ve stayed in the car.
He scooted closer to the window and watched her turn on the stereo. Her hips moved in time with the beat as she sang along. Look at that body. Oh, the things he planned to do to her. She gave a little shimmy as she wandered off to another room.
It was tradition to leave her flowers after he’d helped himself to a whore bitch, but traditions, like rules, were made to be broken—and he really liked to break them. Maybe he would just scratch his plans and have her right now. After all, she’d disappointed him, made him angry.
His beautiful Sarah wasn’t perfect anymore. She’d turned out to be a whore bitch too. She’d gone away but hadn’t brought her brat and the man and woman who were always fucking there. Her prince charming with his fancy Rover came and took her off somewhere. Well where the fuck was he now?
Zeke moved to the door, jiggled the knob. It held firm. Locked, of course. He peeked through the sheer curtain on the door, watched the red light flash on the home security keypad—his opponent for the next couple of minutes. He grinned, delighted with the challenge.
The system would put him to the test, but he could beat it. It was going to be close, which made it all the more exciting. He gloved-up, cut a circle in the glass, reached in, unlocked the door. Stepping inside, Zeke smiled, closing his eyes, savoring the scent of Sarah. The house smelled as pretty as she was. Flowers, she smelled of valley flowers. Yes, indeed this was fate.
With the thirty seconds he knew he had, he jammed the cellular alarm system with the small device he made at home. See, it paid to be fucking brilliant. The red light still blinked, but he only smiled. God, this was fun. The sneaky bastards thought they could outmaneuver him by installing multiple systems. He ran outside to the phone lines close to the body he left behind, took out his Swiss Army knife.
Zeke waited until he had two seconds to spare before he severed the wire. He jogged back, snickering. The lights on the panel were dark. The fuckers had nothing on him. Oh, how the kids had laughed all those years, calling him ‘Zeke the Geek’—but who was laughing now? He was about to have everything he ever wanted.
He couldn’t hear Sarah with the volume of the stereo so high, but it made it like a game of cat and mouse. He loved a good game. Forgetting himself, he swore. The flowers. He almost forgot the flowers. He left again, quickly gathering the precious blue roses he brought along.
Finally ready to begin, he closed the door and held the bouquet in front of him, proud that he would hand them to her face to face. After all, he’d grown them just for her.
Zeke roamed the house, touching things he knew she’d touched. If only he could take off his gloves. As he walked down the hallway, he heard her voice, her beautiful voice, singing along with the radio. His own angel.
Water ran behind the closed door. Oh, how perfect. He grew rock hard, imagining her wet and naked, imagining all the glorious things they would do together. It would be his honor to be her angel too, her angel of death.
Zeke gripped the bouquet tighter, struggling to keep his hands off his dick. He needed relief from his own fantasies. He smiled. They were about to be his reality.
His hand was on the knob as a phone rang in some distant room in the house. What the fuck? He’d just cut the line, hadn’t he? He moved away from the bathroom door, following the incessant shrill that pissed him off with every step.
He’d made a mistake and he never made mistakes. It was all Sarah’s fault. If she hadn’t danced around like a little bitch in heat, he wouldn’t have missed the other line.
He found the phone in Sarah’s spacious office area. A studio with various lights and other photographer’s equipment filled the orderly space. Pictures framed her walls, most of which were of her daughter.
“Thank you for calling Sarah Johnson Photography. I’m sorry I missed your call. Please leave a name and number, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
“Sarah, it’s Ethan. Goddamnit, please pick up the phone. Please. I’m about three minutes out, five at the most. I’ll be right there.” The phone clicked off, and the dial tone filled the office.
Zeke’s heart pounded. “I’m going to fucking kill you, Ethan. You won’t ruin this for me.” Spit flew from his mouth as he spoke, as he shook with rage. “Oh, yes, Ethan, you’l
l have to die.”
Time slowed to a crawl on the drive from the airport. Ethan maneuvered around cars like a madman on a racetrack. He punched in his buddy’s number on the police force and relaxed, fractionally, when Tucker told him an officer had been sent to Sarah’s house.
As he exited the freeway his phone rang, and the same friend told him the officer wasn’t responding to dispatch. Ethan pressed his foot to the floor, caring very little that he was well over the speed limit.
He tried Sarah’s main line over and over, but she didn’t answer. When the rapid busy signal pulsed in his ear, he knew the fucker had gotten past the alarm and into the house. His heart pounded. His fingers jittered against the steering wheel as terror tore at his soul. He couldn’t lose her.
Ethan called her business line next, fighting to stay in control of his racing mind. It continued to ring. He left a message after the tone. If the bastard had Sarah, he might not hurt her if he knew he didn’t have enough time. He pressed on the tiny latch well under his seat and grabbed his gun.
Tires screeched as he whipped around the corner of Seacoast Drive. He pulled into Sarah’s driveway, put the Rover in neutral, tugged on the emergency break. The vehicle came to a jerking stop. Three police cars descended on the house as he yanked his door open and sprinted into her house, through the wide open door. Music pumped through the speakers. Forgetting himself, he shouted her name over and over as he scanned each room instead of entering silently.
“Sarah! Sarah!” He crashed through her bedroom door, and she whirled with a piercing scream. He moved forward, yanking her robe-clad body against him. Heart jack hammering, body shaking, Ethan pulled her back again, brushing trembling fingers through her hair. “Oh, God, Sarah. Oh, thank God.”
“What are you doing besides scaring me half to death?” She tried to shove away. “I left a note with Morgan and Hunter telling them to go ahead and stay—that meant you too. Austin should be here any minute.”
He couldn’t let her go. “Just let me hold on for another second.” He kissed her hair.
“Stop it.” She pulled free. “You don’t get to walk in here and act like you weren’t incredibly cruel. You’ve hurt me. I’m very angry with—”
Two policemen entered the room with guns drawn and Sarah screamed again.
Instinct kicked in and Ethan whirled, pulling his gun from his waistband, pointing at the officers before it registered who they were.
“Drop your weapon and get on the ground, now!” an officer yelled.
Ethan let his gun fall from his hand, laced his fingers behind his head, got on the floor. It would really ruin his day if they put a bullet in his chest. “I’m Ethan Cooke, CEO of Ethan Cooke Security. Your dispatch knew I was on my way. My ID is in my wallet—back left pocket.”
One of the officers moved behind him, grabbed his wallet while the other continued to hold him at gunpoint. The man spoke to dispatch and seconds later, the cop helped Ethan off the floor, handed him back his gun. “Sorry about that.”
“I would’ve done the same thing.”
Arms folded, Sarah looked at each of the men. “What is going on around here? Why would you call the police? There’s already a cop out front. I made arrangements with Austin to meet me here. I’m being cautious, Ethan. I have no intention of taking any risks.”
“Ms. Johnson, your security system was disabled. When we arrived, Mr. Cooke ran through an open door.”
Her knuckles whitened; her eyes grew wide with terror. “He was here? That man was here?”
“We believe so.”
“Officer down! Officer down! 555 Seacoast Drive,” the radio belched, “I need an ambulance, immediately.”
The policemen ran from Sarah’s room and she followed.
Ethan caught her three steps into the hallway. “Throw on some clothes first, Sarah.”
As she dashed back in, she tossed her robe to the floor.
He turned away from her stunning naked body as she snapped a bra in place, yanked a t-shirt over her head and jeans up her legs.
“I need to see, Ethan. I need to help.”
He met her eyes and nodded before they hurried outside.
Three officers surrounded a uniformed man lying on the ground. His bloodied, purple face swelled as they watched. “Pulse is thready. Hang on there, Steve. Help is coming.”
“That poor man.” Sarah struggled against Ethan. “Let me go help them, damn it!” She tried to yank free.
He held her close. “The best thing we can do is stay out of the way.”
“At least let me get him a blanket.” Sarah dashed toward the house and he followed. She grabbed the soft, creamy afghan from her couch and ran outside again. Handing it off to one of the officers, she stepped back.
The ambulance arrived moments later, backing into her yard. As the paramedics jumped from the cab, a crime scene unit pulled up. An officer cordoned off her driveway and yard with yellow tape. More officers went in Sarah’s home.
Sarah covered her mouth with her trembling hand.
Ethan wrapped an arm around her stiff shoulders. “Let’s see if we can get some of your stuff and we’ll get you out of here.”
“Okay.” She glanced back at the wounded officer, shook her head. “I need to check on Kylee.”
“Kylee’s fine. Austin has her. Let’s go.” He tugged on her hand.
As they moved forward, a man in jeans and a t-shirt walked toward them. Plain clothes, Ethan knew.
“Ms. Johnson? I’m Detective Chris Allen. I need to ask you some questions.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
A crime scene cop wearing vinyl marker boots and gloves stuck his head out the door. “Detective, you’re going to want to see this.”
See what? What had that asshole done?
Moments later, Ethan stepped away from Sarah as the detective walked back. “I want to know what’s going on.”
“This is official police business, Mr.—”
“Cooke. Ethan Cooke, of Ethan Cooke Security. I’m in charge of Ms. Johnson’s protection. I’ve kept in contact with Detective Tucker Campbell during this entire investigation. You can tell me now, or I’ll call him and find out myself. I can’t keep Ms. Johnson safe if I don’t know what’s coming at her.”
The cop’s eyes cooled. “A bouquet of flowers was found on the kitchen table—five blue roses wrapped with a white ribbon. The card attached read ‘Soon, whore bitch, very, very soon’ in bold red ink.
“Oh my God.” Sarah’s voice trembled. Color drained from her face as she gripped her hands together. “That monster was in my home? He got into my house? I know my system was disabled, but I didn’t realize he’d actually made it in.” She shuddered. “I was in the shower just before Ethan barged in.”
Ethan took her shoulders. “Sarah—”
She broke free, running to Hunter as he stepped up to the officer guarding the scene, showing his ID, and ducked under the tape. She wrapped herself in his arms and stabbed Ethan in the heart.
They walked back with Hunter still holding her close. They moved out of the way as the ambulance pulled away with its lights flashing, its siren screaming.
“Let’s get her out of here, Cooke,” Hunter said, stopping in front of him.
“I have questions for Ms. Johnson.”
Hunter flicked a glance at the man standing next to Ethan. “You can ask them at my house or tomorrow. I’ll leave it up to you.” Dismissing the detective, Hunter spoke to Ethan. “Austin picked us up at the airport for a fucking tight squeeze of a ride home. He dropped me off and took Morgan, Hailey, and Kylee to the house. I want us back ASAP.” He glanced at Sarah. “You’ll stay with Morgan and me until we have to leave for D.C. next week.”
She freed herself of his hold. “Absolutely not. I’m not about to put you and Morgan in any danger. You didn’t see the officer they wheeled out of my backyard.” Her voice broke. “He was here to help me, and now he might die.”
Hunter brushed his thumb across h
er cheek, catching a tear.
She sniffled, shook her head. “I’m all right, Hunter. I want you to reconsider. I couldn’t live with myself if this sicko hurt Morgan because of me.”
Ethan watched her struggle to hold herself together while Hunter hugged her. He should’ve been doing that, always had. He wanted to take her and Kylee home with him, but he didn’t think she would be open to that right now.
Needing to touch her, Ethan ran his finger down her arm. “Austin and Hunter are going to cover you, Kylee, and Morgan. It’s the safest option at this point.”
Sarah looked up, eyes on his, and nodded. “Okay. Can we get out of here?”
Late that night, Ethan sat at Hunter’s dining room table with a cup of cold coffee at his elbow. They both stared at the surveillance footage from the cameras at Sarah’s house.
The tape showed the cop wander around her yard, shining his flashlight among the bushes set back from her patio by the bedroom, before he fell to the ground statue stiff.
“The fucker fucking tased him,” Hunter said as he rewound the disc, letting the video play back in slow-motion.
“There.” Ethan pointed to the flash of explosion when the taser dart left the gun.
Hunter let the disc play again.
As the officer lay stiff, a masked man dressed in black came into range on the camera. He smashed the officer over the head with one of Sarah’s small concrete planters.
Ethan winced. “Goddamn.”
The man in black followed the first hit with a second blow to the head, followed by several punches with vinyl-gloved hands. He kicked the officer once in the stomach, twice in the kidneys before he dragged him back to the shrubbery. The man crouched by the bushes and waited.
Ethan pushed fast forward on the laptop. Fifteen minutes of video time flashed by before he stopped it again. Sarah stepped from the taxi, pulling her suitcase with her. She unlocked the door, shut it.
Camera four caught a movement and took over, showing the man in black walk along the side of the house until he crouched in front of the living room window.
