If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

by Walker, Shiloh

  Certain he would never sleep, Ezra glanced over at the clock. Then he closed his eyes and swore. Not even eleven. Shit. Not even a fucking hour of sleep. He’d been so tired, he’d crashed and burned just a little before nine and now he’d be paying for that, probably sleepless the rest of the night.

  Except he doubted he’d really want to sleep anyway. Not after the dream. Maybe in a few hours … after he leveled out.

  Yawning, he climbed out of bed. The shorts he’d worn the day before were draped over the footboard and he grabbed them. After dragging them on over naked hips, he headed downstairs. The muscles in his right leg knotted in warning. Almost in afterthought, he detoured by the bathroom and grabbed the bottle of Vicodin just in case. That ache could go from mild to holy shit in no time flat.

  He crashed on the couch. The plan was to watch some TV, veg out. He might not sleep, but he could shut his brain down. Avoid thinking about Mac.

  If he could manage to do that, he’d make it through the night okay.

  Fifteen minutes after he made it downstairs, his leg let him know in no uncertain terms that he wouldn’t be making it through the night without some pharmaceutical help. When he could, he tried to just deal with the pain. But he’d heaped too much abuse on the healing muscles. He washed the pill down with a Diet Coke and remained on the couch, watching the TV and stubbornly refusing to think.

  Life was so much easier when he just didn’t think.

  It took another thirty minutes before he was floating comfortably in a mind-numbed haze.

  He might have even made it to sleep.

  If it wasn’t for the damned four-wheelers.

  He hit the front door just in time to see the back end of the last one before it shot off into the dark night.

  “Son of a bitch.” He stormed outside, the first edge of anger burning through his sleepy brain.

  They’d trashed the flowerbeds. Reckless, idiotic kids. They’d been ripping through the back of his property off and on for the past few weeks, but this was the first time they’d ever gotten this close to his house, and they’d never actually done any damage.

  Damn it, damn it, damn it.

  Squinting in the dim light, he stared down at the flowerbeds his grandmother had lovingly tended. A rainbow of petals littered the ground, muddied and mangled.

  For some reason, he found himself oddly mesmerized by the sight of the broken and ruined blooms.

  Her name was Jolene Hollister.

  She was twenty-nine, engaged to be married.

  One week ago, she’d been on top of the world, living her life to the fullest.

  Now, she was in the lowest level of hell, and she’d begun to pray for death.

  In some part of her mind, she thought she should feel guilty for that but she didn’t. She knew she should want to fight for her life, for the life she should have had with her fiancé, but she hurt so badly and she was so tired …

  Death would be an escape. From him.

  But as much as she might pray for death, when Jolene realized how loose her restraints had become, she worked them even looser. When she managed to free herself, she crouched in the corner and hid, her hands gripping a metal bar. It had leather cuffs on it and her mind tried to shut down when she remembered what he’d done with that bar.

  It didn’t matter now. It didn’t matter that it had been stained with her blood. Now that bar was a weapon in her hands and she’d use it against him.

  But she was so weak.

  When he came inside, she swung it at his head. It connected and he went down, but she knew she hadn’t hit him hard enough.

  Still, she ran.

  She’d get away, or die trying.

  She only hoped …

  That had been her only thought and now that thought mocked her. She wouldn’t get away and his mocking laughter infuriated her as she thrashed through the woods, struggling to get away from him.

  Laughing—the bastard was laughing at her.

  Laughing at her while she ran.

  Laughing.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was furious.

  The sick, perverted fuck was laughing.

  The rage tried to take control, but the fear wouldn’t let it. She had to run. He was coming after her and she had to get away, get help before he caught her.

  He’s going to catch me … I’m not going to get away from him. Despair whispered in her ear, dark and cloying. She tried to shove it aside. She could get away—she’d gotten outside, right? She could get away.

  A sob burned inside her abused throat, threatening to choke her. She could hear him, trailing behind her, chuckling as she ran.

  She thought she could even hear the sound of his feet on the hard-packed, uneven forest floor. Above her own breaths, harsh and ragged, she could hear him as she pushed through the night-dark forest.

  Or maybe it was just her heart.

  She hurt. She hadn’t thought it was possible to hurt like this, hurt so that every breath, every move was sheer agony. All she wanted to do was huddle into a ball and whimper from the pain, but she couldn’t—couldn’t stop running, couldn’t stop.

  There were lights ahead. She could just barely make out the faint golden glow.

  Lights—lights could mean a house. Could mean help. Safety—

  Wide-eyed, Jolene looked back over her shoulder and darted off to the left, desperate to put more distance between them. Desperate to get to those golden lights ahead.

  She suspected she was going to die tonight, but that didn’t mean she was going to give up. Not without a fight.

  Her name was Jolene Hollister.

  Unconcerned, the man trailed along behind her, a dark, shadowy presence that moved through the forest with ease. He knew the forest, knew it well, knew all the paths, knew where fallen tree limbs or exposed roots waited to trip up the unwary. He’d been walking these paths for years—some of his fondest memories had taken place in these woods.

  She was pretty, this new girl. Pretty, quick, not quite so easily broken. Even after a week, she tried to fight. Tried to struggle. Even tried to run, and she ran well, her nude legs muscled and strong. Very strong—he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, feeling the open wound where his teeth had sliced him open when she smashed her head into his mouth just a few days earlier.

  He’d seen to it that she drank, that she ate, although he had to force it on her. Letting her get too weak from hunger or dehydration was such a waste. Although now he had to admit, if she hadn’t been so strong, she wouldn’t have slipped away from him, wouldn’t even now be running through the woods, screaming.

  He hadn’t broken her and that was what gave her the strength to run.

  Still, although this was making more work for him, it was fun. A lot of fun. His blood pounded hot in his veins and his dick was so hard, so ready, he ached. He was going to have even more fun with her tonight.

  Ahead of him, she screamed.

  “Help me!”

  He laughed, listening as she struggled through the undergrowth. Most likely she was trying to get to the house ahead. From time to time, he caught a glimpse of the porch lights before a bend in the path once more hid it from view. It was still some distance away. He would catch her before she got much closer. He would have to, after all. He liked his games too much to risk them.

  As he passed a tree, something glinted on the ground and he glanced down, frowning when he saw the silvery moonlight reflecting off the necklace there.

  He’d seen that delicate gold chain before—it belonged to his girl. It was his girl’s.

  Scooping it up, he tucked it in his pocket and bit back the angry snarl that tried to rise in his throat. It wouldn’t have been good if that had been left here. Not good at all.

  He’d have to teach her a lesson for that.

  Once their game was over. And speaking of games, it must be time for a new one.

  It had gone quiet. Cocking his head, he listened for the sounds of her running through the fore
st, branches breaking, leaves crunching underfoot.

  But there was nothing.

  She’d gone completely and utterly silent.

  “Are we going to hide now?” he asked, stopping in his tracks and turning in a slow circle. “If I find you, does that mean I win?”

  A sound caught his ear. Cocking his head, he listened. It was faint, that low, soft moan. The erratic gasps as she struggled to breathe. Quiet, but not quiet enough.

  Laughing, he followed the sound.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are …”

  He hadn’t ever realized how much fun it would be to chase them.

  Such possibilities …

  The voice of reason advised caution, though. Wouldn’t be wise to make such a drastic change in his game plan, not now.

  Lena was dreaming.

  She knew it and she had to admit, it was one damn fine dream.

  In the dream, she could see. She had vivid memories from back before she’d gone completely blind and sometimes, those dreams taunted her.

  This dream wasn’t so bad, though.

  She was outside and the sun shone down on her, a brilliant burst of light and warmth raining down on her. Tipping her face to it, she stared into the sun until her eyes watered and burned.

  “You shouldn’t stare at the sun.”

  The voice was low, rough … sexy. And familiar.

  Ezra. Damn him.

  Couldn’t he leave her in peace, even in her dreams?

  Lena was a sucker for a sexy voice and he had such a fine one. Hands came up from behind, rested on her waist, and then slid around her, pulling her back against a hard, strong body.

  “I don’t want to dream about you,” she said, but she didn’t pull away from him. No, she rested her head against his chest and continued to stare at the golden-white burn of the sun.

  “I told you that you shouldn’t look at the sun,” he murmured, stroking one hand up and cupping her breast. Something hot and liquid flared to life inside her.

  “It doesn’t matter if I look at it or not. Not now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m just dreaming. Those pesky UV rays can’t hurt me here.” As much as she hated to look away from the sun, she did, turning in his embrace to study his face. She wanted to see him, too. See what subconscious image she had cooked up to go with that sexy voice.

  And damn, her subconscious had delivered just fine.

  Although sometimes she suspected her sighted memories weren’t as clear as they could have been, she wasn’t going to complain. He looked just fine to her.

  Right now, she could see …

  Right now, she could touch.

  And more … she could be touched. Touched by somebody who wasn’t moved by curiosity or pity, or even worse, some fucked-up male desire to get a unique score he could tell a bunch of his loser friends about over a beer.

  No, she was being touched by somebody who very obviously wanted to touch her right back. So what if it was only in a dream? At least here he couldn’t disappoint her by saying he’d call and then not follow through.

  As he ran his hands down over her body, stripping away her clothes, Lena lifted her eyes upward and stared at the sun again.

  Lost herself in the warm golden glow and the feel of a man’s hands on her body.

  She could see … see his face as he guided her to the ground and knelt between her thighs.

  She could touch … touch his shoulders and fist her hands in his hair as he lowered his mouth to her aching core and licked her.

  She could feel … feel the fiery hot pleasure blistering through her as he levered up over her and pushed inside, one deep, smooth thrust that stretched her in the sweetest damn way.

  She could hear—

  “Help me!”

  Lena came awake with a gasp. Her heart knocked against her ribs and she shivered as cool air danced over her sweat-slicked body. A breeze drifted in through the open window.

  It was cool … not cold. But she was freezing.

  Hearing one low, questioning yip, she held out her hand. Puck pressed his nose against her palm and she heaved out a breath. The dog’s body was tense—all over tense and he had his hackles up.

  “Sorry, boy. Just had a bad dream,” she muttered. She’d gone and freaked her dog out.

  As she started to lie back down, she heard it.

  A voice.

  “… help me …”

  Puck growled.

  Jerking back up, she turned her head toward the window, tried to breathe past the knot in her chest. “What in the hell …?” She closed her eyes, listened. Concentrated.

  Puck growled again, louder this time, his voice rough, full of menace, full of warning. Lena shushed him, her voice sharp, her own fear edging its way in.

  Through the window, she could hear … something. Thrashing in the forest that bordered the western edge of her property. The western edge … the woods. That strip of land where lately, her dog didn’t like to go. Not for the past few months.

  “Somebody, please help me!”

  The sound of the woman’s screams, raw and agonized, sent a shudder racing down Lena’s spine.

  “Oh, God,” Lena whispered. Her heart slammed against her rib cage as she reached for the phone by her bed.

  There was another scream and she dropped the phone. Swearing, she crawled out of the bed, patting around on the floor. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.” Icy, cold sweat dripped along her spine as she listened through the window.

  Branches snapping. A ragged moan. Then all was silent.

  Where’s the fricking phone??

  Making a sound halfway between a sob and a growl, she stuck her hand under the bed and heaved out a sigh of relief as her fingers brushed plastic. Scuttling across the floor, she pressed her back to the wall and listened, phone clutched in her hand.

  Call 911, damn it! She tried to get her fingers to move but terror made them clumsy.

  Outside, she heard nothing. She didn’t hear anything … wait. Yes, yes, she heard something now, but it was quiet … somebody, moving quietly and softly through the trees.

  If her room had been any farther away from the woods, if she had lived any closer to town … hell, if she’d had the radio playing, she never would have heard it. So, so quiet …

  There was another short, sharp scream—one that ended all too abruptly. The sound of it was enough to get her frozen fingers to move and she dialed 911.

  Puck made a rough sound low in his throat and nosed her leg. She patted the space next to her and as he pressed his big, furry body against her leg, she wrapped an arm around him.

  “Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

  “I … I hear a woman screaming. She’s screaming for help.”

  It only took minutes. Maybe ten. Logically, she knew not much time had passed before she heard the sirens, but it seemed like an eternity. Too long. Too much time.

  She hadn’t heard the woman again … what if it was too late?

  They could have been there for thirty minutes. They could have been there for three hours.

  Lena suspected it was somewhere in between, but she wasn’t sure.

  She was having a damned hard time concentrating.

  Nobody screaming for help.

  No woman.

  No abandoned cars on the side of the road, no wrecks.

  Nothing.

  They hadn’t seen a soul, hadn’t found a damn thing.

  But she’d heard somebody.

  “Ms. Riddle.”

  Lena folded her fingers around the cup of coffee. “Sergeant … Jennings, is that right?” She gave him a faint smile. “I guess you’re related to half the town, then.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m Keith Jennings, if that helps any.”

  The quiet humor she heard in his voice made her smile. “A bit.” She sighed and pushed a hand through her hair. “When half the county is named Jennings, even a bit of help is nice.”

  “Well, to be honest, I t
hink it’s only a quarter … and I’m a pretty distant cousin.”

  He was smiling a little. She could hear it in his voice. “You mean there are people here who aren’t distant cousins?” The Jennings family practically owned Ash, it seemed.

  “Well, you’re not.”

  “True.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed. “Did you … um … was there anybody …”

  “I’m sorry, but we couldn’t find anything.” He was silent for a second and then cleared his throat. “Would it be okay if I sat down?”

  “Oh, of course. I’m sorry. I …”

  “It’s okay. It’s late and all.”

  She heard the other rocking chair creak as he sat down.

  “That sure is a fine dog you’ve got there, Ms. Riddle. What was his name again?”

  “Puck.”

  “Nice dog.”

  She heard him snap his fingers and it made her smile. Keeping her hand on the dog’s harness, she said, “He won’t come to you while he’s on his leash. He’s working.” She adjusted the dark glasses she wore.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

  He chuckled and said, “I guess people do that a lot.”

  “Some.” Lena shrugged. “Not so much around here, though. At least not now. They’re getting to know him.” She grimaced. “It does happen a lot when I go into Lexington or Louisville.”

  “People see a pretty dog, they want to pet it.”

  Lena smiled. “Yes.” Puck was a beautiful dog, twenty-eight inches at the shoulder, well-behaved, and although she couldn’t see his golden coat, she knew it was shiny and clean. Jennings spoke the truth—Puck was a pretty dog and people like to pet pretty dogs.

  But as pretty as Puck was, he was also a working dog. Plus, he was her dog. He liked people well enough, but he preferred her over other people. He wasn’t just her dog—he was a friend. It was more than a pet/owner relationship. With a guide dog, it had to be.

  Silence fell, stretching out for nearly a minute before Sgt. Jennings broke it with a question. “So, can you tell me more about what happened?”

  “Screaming,” she whispered quietly, turning her head to the wooded area that bordered the western part of her property. A knot settled in her throat and she had to clear her throat twice before she could manage to speak. Fear tore into her, brutal and sharp. “Somebody was in the woods. I could hear her screaming … screaming for help.”