by Amy Olle
On her hands and knees, she scrambled away, but with a grunt, he lunged and his large hand clamped around her ankle. With a hard jerk, he dragged her toward him. The skin on her knees and thighs scraped across the wood floor and she twisted onto her back.
Her body worked without her conscious choice. She kicked and punched, screaming until her vocal cords burned. When her heel caught his chin, his arm came up to cover his head.
She kept kicking, fighting through pain and exhaustion. More grunts and curses sputtered from him. Suddenly, he lifted his head and turned. Then he was retreating.
Darkness hovered at the edges of her vision when she touched the searing pain in her side. Wetness seeped through her T-shirt to drench her hand, and she pressed her palm over the wound.
When she rolled to her stomach, the pain wrenched another cry from her. The room spun as she raised up on her haunches. On the coffee table, she spotted her cell phone. Her fingers fumbled with the device, dropping it once before she managed to bring up the number pad to make an outgoing call.
Blackness invaded the edges of her vision, and she stabbed blindly at the screen where she hoped the digits 911 would be located. But before she’d punched the last number, ringing sounded on the other end.
The tunnel around her line of sight closed tighter, and the device slipped from her trembling hands.
One more ring reverberated in the dark silence before she collapsed to the floor.
Chapter Eight
Leo had intended to leave town that morning. Instead, he made the visit he’d dreaded making since his return to Boston. After he left the cemetery, rather than hit the road as planned, he’d gone back to his hotel room and gotten shitfaced drunk.
Sometime in the early afternoon, he’d passed out, and he didn’t wake again until the sound of his cell phone roused him from sleep.
In the dark hotel room, he fumbled for the device on the bedside table and tipped it so he could read the display.
Seeing her name, he shot upright and swung his legs off the bed as he connected the call. “Prue?”
Silence on the other end drove him to his feet. “Prue, are you there?”
The clock on the nightstand screamed the time in bloodred digits: 2:17 a.m.
He closed his eyes, listening. Something, someone, was there. He could just make out the faintest of sounds. Soft, rattling breaths.
It was her, he knew it.
The phone pressed to his ear, he yanked on a pair of blue jeans. “Prue, if you can hear me, hang on. I’m coming.”
He plucked his backpack off the floor at the end of the bed, which he’d crammed with his belongings the night before in preparation for his morning departure, and burst through the door. At a full sprint, he careened down the long, empty corridor.
In the parking ramp, he vaulted behind the wheel and jammed the keys in the ignition. He refused to disconnect Prue’s call, switching to speakerphone before he laid the device on the dashboard. The engine roared to life and the tires screeched when he punched the accelerator.
His heartbeat hammered inside his skull with sickening thuds. This couldn’t be happening. Not again.
In case she could hear him, he talked to her while he sped along the narrow city streets, which were mostly quiet at the late hour. He broke several traffic laws to arrive at the Victorian home in half the normal time, then he parked illegally in front of the house and darted up the front steps two at a time.
As he approached the front door, he reached for his gun, which of course, he wasn’t wearing. Just one more way in which he’d struggled to adjust to civilian life. He slipped inside the building.
Head up, he hugged the wall and scaled both flights of stairs. On the landing, he crept toward her apartment door. It stood open, the interior dark and quiet.
Just then, a door across the hall creaked open and a woman’s head poked through the crack. When her gaze landed on him, he froze. Her eyes went wide and she whisked the door closed.
Through the door, her muffled voice possessed a shaky warning. “I—I’ve called the police.”
Silently, Leo stole inside Prue’s apartment. He crouched with his back to the wall and waited while his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Soon, he could make out a form heaped on the floor.
Nausea twisted his gut and he expelled a slow breath as he moved toward it. Relying on his memory of the room’s layout, he found the table lamp and flipped it on. Soft light flooded the space and confirmed his worst fear. She appeared unconscious, and dark red stained the nightshirt over her stomach.
A curse shot from him and he hurled toward her, falling to his knees as he reached her side. “Prue?” He smoothed his palm across her cheek. “Oh shit, Prue. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Her eyes blinked open. Glazed with panic, they fastened on his face. “Leo?”
“Where are you hurt?” he asked, even as his hands searched her body.
She winced and lifted a hand to touch her side. “Here.”
“Who did this?”
She sucked in a sharp breath when he pulled the fabric from her skin. “I don’t know him. A man….”
Leo’s gaze swept the room. “Is he still here?”
“I don’t think so.”
With the outer edge of his own T-shirt, he gently wiped the blood away from the spot of the wound, trying to assess the damage.
Another curse ripped from him. “He had a knife?”
This was his fault. He was the reason this had happened to her. Once again, his failure caused others to suffer.
“I don’t…. It was dark. I couldn’t see….”
When he’d cleaned away enough blood to examine the cut, relief flooded him.
“It isn’t bad. He just caught the surface.” But there was so much blood. He rechecked the wound. “Did you fight him?”
If she’d struggled, that might explain the amount of blood.
“I was trying to get away, but he kept coming.”
Leo squeezed his eyes shut briefly. The struggle might explain the amount of blood, but knowing that did nothing to calm the fear that choked him.
With the tips of his fingers, he touched her cheek. “You fought well.”
Her chin quivered and her eyes shimmered. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
A lump lodged in his throat. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“I didn’t call you.” Her tone held a defiant ring.
He peered into her eyes, checking her pupils for symmetry. “Maybe you don’t remember.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to call you. I said I wouldn’t and I didn’t.” A frown puckered the spot between her brows. “But you came anyway.”
At the softness in her voice, the lump sitting inside his throat swelled. “Do you have a first-aid kit?”
“In the bathroom.”
He did a quick sweep of the apartment to make certain the attacker had fled before he returned to her side with a wet, warm towel and the kit.
He’d cleaned the wound and was dressing it when two policemen appeared at the apartment door he’d left open.
Prue dragged her gaze from the officers at the door back to him. “That’s who I was trying to call.”
Leo pulled the hem of her nightshirt down to cover her and, with a hand under her arm, helped her sit. She took a moment, and once steady, climbed slowly to her feet. He refused to let go of her arm until she was safely seated on the couch.
Sitting on the solid wood coffee table, he listened as she relayed to the officers the details of the incident. When she stated that she’d woken up to find a man standing in her bedroom, and described how he’d hunted her throughout the apartment in a prolonged assault, the room started to spin around him.
Guilt and fear threatened to swallow him. He should’ve taken her protection more seriously. After he found out about the car break-in, he never should have left her alone. He didn’t know who was after her, or why, but at this point he had to assume her attacker would be back.
Clearly he couldn’t protect her and he had no business pretending that he could. So what could he do? Ask the cops to lock her in a jail cell where no one could get near her?
The hand he hauled through his hair stilled when a thought struck. He might not be able to lock her away, but he could hide her. Just until they figured out what the hell was going on.
While the officers set about their work of fingerprinting and combing for evidence, his mind raced to fill in the details of a hazy plan.
He twisted on the table to face her. “I think we should get you out of town for a few days while we sort this all out. What do you think?”
She frowned. “Where would I go?”
“I don’t know.” He grimaced with the admission. “Right now, I think any place might be safer for you than this town. Why don’t you pack a few things while I finish up with the officers?”
Leo gave his cell phone number to the cops and explained he’d be taking Prue out of town for a few days. In exchange, they left him with their contact information and a promise to call him if they discovered the identity of Prue’s attacker.
While he waited for Prue, he moved through the apartment, closing up and securing every window and the terrace door, which she’d left open to let in the cooler night air. When she reappeared, he plucked the suitcase from her grip and opened the apartment door for her.
But at the doorway, she hesitated. “Is it all right if I bring Arlo?”
He frowned. “Who’s Arlo?”
“My kitten. He’s kind of dependent on me, and if anyone tries to break in again….”
With a sigh, he jerked his chin at her. “Get the cat.”
She found the fur ball under her bed and, amid his mewing protests, dragged him into her arms. Once there, the little beast quieted and settled in the cradle of her breasts. Lucky bastard.
Downstairs, Leo’s car remained in the illegal parking zone, hazards blinking. He held open the passenger side door while Prue climbed gingerly into the cab and cuddled Arlo in her lap.
Sunrise still a couple of hours away, the city streets remained free of traffic and light rolled through the car’s interior in a steady pattern as they passed under the streetlamps.
“Where are we going?”
At the lack of strength in her voice, a frown pulled at his features. “Someplace safe.”
It wasn’t an answer, but he wasn’t yet prepared to commit to his plan. Not when he still had several hundred miles to come up with an alternative.
She laid her head on the headrest. “I’ve never been to the Caribbean.” The tinge of humor in her voice did much to soothe the soreness in his chest.
“Did you happen to grab your passport on the way out?”
She shook her head. “I think it’s expired anyway.”
“It’s fine. We don’t need to leave the country.” Yet.
“Hawaii?”
“No way are we getting on a plane.” He glanced over his shoulder before easing the car into the other lane.
“Why not?”
“Makes it too easy to track our movements.”
Her brow puckered. “Is that legal?”
“No.”
A hiss of air escaped her, and he looked over to see her biting down on her bottom lip. She pushed out a long, steadying breath.
“We should get you to a hospital.” He reached for his cell phone to look up the nearest location.
Her fingers brushed his hand. “Oh please no. We’d be there for hours. I’m fine. I just forgot and moved too fast.”
He refused to relinquish his phone.
“If it’s still bothering me when we get wherever we’re going, I’ll go. I promise.”
He returned his hand to the steering wheel and immediately mourned the loss of her touch.
“So, you still haven’t said where it is we’re going.”
Dread tasted bitter in his throat. “Michigan.”
“What’s in Michigan?”
“No bad guys.”
“I’m going to hide out there? In Michigan?”
He shot her a sidelong look. “You sound skeptical.”
“I am,” she stated matter-of-factly. She turned her face to the window and gazed out at the scenery for a time. “I’ve never been to Michigan.”
When he’d left his brother’s place the week prior, he hadn’t planned on returning so soon. As hard as it was to witness his brother’s wedded bliss and impending fatherhood, the test that awaited Leo now would challenge everything in him.
“So no tropical island getaway, then, huh?”
Though she tried to inject her words with a lighthearted tint, he could hear the fear in the vulnerable catch of her voice and see it in her trembling hands. In her sky-blue eyes, he could all but touch it.
“Well,” he said lightly, “it’s an island, anyway.”
Chapter Nine
The soft sway of the vehicle wrung the adrenaline from Prue’s body. She wanted to know more about where Leo was taking her, and if he intended to stay there with her or not, but exhaustion dragged at her and she couldn’t muster the wherewithal to question him further. Soon, she dropped into the shelter of sleep.
Sometime later, her attacker returned to haunt her dreams. His cold eyes ravaged her. The crushing weight of his body on hers revolted her.
She jolted from sleep, frightened and disoriented.
The first thing she saw was Leo, alert and focused on the road before them. Her panic eased immediately. As long as she gazed at him, the grip of fear around her heart and lungs steadily weakened. She studied his steady profile, and his hands on the steering wheel, sure and strong. The way the muscles in his forearms and biceps reacted with his movements set off a whisper of flutters in her stomach while the artistry of the small shamrock tattooed on the inside of his left wrist delivered a faint smile to her lips.
Watching him, her eyelids grew heavy. She dozed again, but restful sleep proved elusive. Every time she opened her eyes, Leo was there, calm and vigilant. Constant.
When she next awoke, they were parked in front of a gas station and bright sunlight blanketed the earth.
Leo wasn’t in the driver seat beside her.
Her heart lurched, but before panic took hold, she spotted him through the car’s windshield, leaning against the hood with his cell phone pressed to his ear.
When she climbed from the vehicle, the midday air was thick with heat and humidity. She lifted her arm to shield her eyes from the glaring sun as he disconnected his call.
His gaze swept over her. “How are you? You doing okay?”
“I’m okay.” She leaned against the car beside him and tried to convince herself that the tenderness in his tone didn’t mean anything.
He gestured with his phone. “I talked to your dad.”
Surprise flew through her. “What did you say?”
“I told him that Owen asked me to get you out of town for a few days. I wanted him to know that you’re with me now, and that you’re safe.”
Was she safe? She wanted to believe him, but the aching knot in the pit of her stomach doubted if she’d ever feel safe again.
“I should call my work,” she said. “They’re probably wondering where I am.”
“I already called them.”
“You called my work?” Sweet relief swooped through her. Then she stole a look at him. “What did you tell them?”
“I talked to… Amanda, is it?” He scratched his jaw, which had darkened with the shadow of fresh beard growth. “I told her you had a family emergency and you’d call her when you know more.”
“Wow. You’re a good liar.”
An odd expression chased across his features, which he quickly concealed. “Can I get you anything from inside? You want something to eat?”
With the churning in her stomach, she didn’t feel like eating. But when she considered that he’d go into the store without her and she’d be left outside, alone, a punch of anxiety slammed into her.
She be
rated herself for her ridiculousness even as she tripped forward. “I’ll come with you.”
Hauling open the car door, she reached for her purse on the floor but started when Arlo’s tiny head peeked out from inside the roomy handbag. She snatched them both up and followed Leo into the store.
She trailed close behind him as he moved down one aisle, drawn to his solid strength as though she were a flimsy piece of scrap metal and he a potent magnet. He walked with a slight hitch in his gait and seeing it, she frowned. That night at the bar, she’d assumed the alcohol had caused his uneven stride. Maybe it was simply stiffness from the hours he’d spent sitting in the car, but the slight limp reminded her of the jagged scar on his hip.
Beneath the restroom sign, she hesitated.
Leo turned, a quizzical look lifting one eyebrow.
She pointed to the sign above his head. “I gotta pee.”
A smile might have teased the corner of his mouth when she slipped past him and pushed open the door to the women’s restroom, but it vanished so swiftly she couldn’t be sure.
Aside from hurting, the wound in her side made her movements slow and awkward. She fumbled through, and when she reemerged, he was waiting for her.
She resisted the urge to nestle into his side, but stayed close as he navigated the aisles, accepting a bottle of water, a sandwich, and a protein bar when he handed them to her. Then he snagged a first-aid kit off the shelf and headed toward the checkout.
She dumped her purchases on the store counter and dug through her purse for her wallet, but when she slid her bank card from its slot, Leo’s hand covered hers.
“I got it,” he said easily, then passed a bill to the cashier.
Returning the card to its spot, she followed him outside and found a patch of grass behind the building for Arlo to explore and do his business. Back at the car, Leo helped her inside before walking around to the driver side door.
He wrestled the first-aid kit from the shopping bag and ripped into the plastic covering. Popping open the white case, he selected a small packet and tore it in two.
