52 Waratah Avenue

by Lynne Wilding

  ‘Damn you!’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘All right. You win.’ The pressure on her throat eased instantly.

  Blinking with shock, slowly, Lenny smiled a wide, triumphant smile. ‘Good. You’re as smart as I thought you were, Michaela, my love.’

  My love! The bastard. How could the creep use such words in conjunction with what he was about to perpetrate? Oh, he’d pay. Somehow she would make him pay, but now wasn’t the time to think about retribution. For the present, the best she could do was grin and pretend she liked it.

  She let him kiss her again and this time she responded, although she almost choked when his tongue made contact with her own. She forced out appropriate throaty moans as his hand took possession of her breast and kneaded it. All the while, as he touched her, caressed her, a cold fury was building inside her, but she knew she had to wait for an opportunity to arise before she could act.

  Without her noticing, he had worked her breasts free of her bra. His head dipped to suckle one, then the other. She writhed beneath him — not with passion — but with a kind of feverish despair. Lenny was forcing her to do what she desperately didn’t want to do. His touch, his breath on her face, the suggestive movements of his body against hers were repulsive in the extreme. She pretended otherwise.

  ‘That’s my good girl,’ he whispered, as if she were a child. ‘I said you’d like it, didn’t I?’

  Lenny could hardly believe his luck. She was going to let him do it to her. She was a sexy little tramp after all, like all the women he’d had over the years. She just disguised it better than most. All he’d done was to give her some rough play, yeah, that had probably turned her on! He chuckled as he leant back to look at her. Some foreplay and a little physical encouragement had done the trick. The rough stuff made it more exciting for him, too. Yeah, deep down she’d probably loved that. Women did, even though they pretended otherwise.

  He eased the pressure off her captured hands, giving her a warning glance. ‘No funny stuff now.’

  She smiled her acquiescence and flexed her fingers to get the blood pumping again. ‘You’re the boss,’ she said softly, as she brought her arms up and around his neck to run her fingers through his hair.

  The gleam in his eyes hardened. Sluts, they were all bloody sluts — even the woman he loved. That thought darkened his mood, and he barked an order at her. ‘Take your damn jeans off and let’s get on with it. I’ve waited long enough.’

  ‘Sure, Lenny.’ Her tone was submissive …

  Michaela glanced towards Fern as she made an effort to wriggle out of her jeans. Her niece was still unconscious and, thank God, wouldn’t witness what was going to happen. What was going to happen! The sentence drummed over and over inside her head. She didn’t look at him, but she could hear Lenny panting with anticipation as he waited on his knees, very close to her, watching her slide the stiff material down her slender legs. She tried to make the action look as sexy as she could to prolong things while she racked her brain, stretched her imagination to the very limits to come up with a workable plan. A plan to stop him from completing his intent would have to be drastic, extreme. What could she do?

  ‘And your briefs, quick now,’ he rasped at her.

  She made a snap decision. It had to be now. Her gaze remained downcast while she looked around for a weapon of some sort. If he were going to take her against her will, she would go down fighting, not submitting.

  ‘Why don’t you help me?’ she invited, faking a husky tone as she slid her panties off her hips, over her buttocks and along her thighs.

  ‘Yeah, baby,’ his tone was thick with desire, ‘that’s more like it.’

  He leant forward and began to yank her panties down the rest of her legs. Then his hands, damp with sweat, rose feverishly up her calves, over her knees, along the insides of her thighs, touching, caressing and, most of all, possessive. That’s when she saw the opportunity — the only chance available to her — as his mind and hands became engrossed in what he was doing. Half sitting up, she stretched an arm out as far as she could and managed to find a piece of kindling near the fire. Her fingers clasped around a short branch; it was a good thickness. And then her rage at the indignities he had forced on her bubbled over and out of control.

  Rape me, will you? With all the strength she had, she swung the branch around. It connected with a dull thud against the side of his head.

  The blow and its unexpectedness knocked Lenny off balance. He sprawled away from her and perilously close to the fire. She hit him again, on the back of the head, harder this time. Bastard. I will kill you. He deserved it. Scrambling to her feet — she had so much pent-up anger and energy inside her, she hit his left kneecap. That would make it hard for him to chase her, then the branch came down on his head again and again, until he lay still.

  Panting from her exertions, she stared at his prone figure. Had she killed him? Strangely, at this moment, she didn’t feel at all guilty if she had … Tentatively, though, she poked him with her bare foot and jumped back with fright when he gave an incoherent moan. She shook her head in amazement. God, Lenny Kovacs must have the thickest skull in the world!

  Chapter Twenty

  Michaela saw her jeans crumpled up on the grass and bent down to retrieve them. She kept her eyes on him as she hastily pulled them on. Her lips compressed with concentration, she watched him, her thoughts going in several different directions at once. Okay, she had stopped him from raping her and bashing his knee would slow him down but, when he regained consciousness, he was going to be madder than a rutting bull and, if he could, she knew he would hurt her. This time he’d really hurt her. It was imperative that she immobilise him, permanently. Otherwise, she wouldn’t feel safe and Fern mightn’t be safe, either.

  It took Michaela the best part of an hour to tie Lenny up properly with the insulated wire she’d found in the tail section of the plane. She had to drag him to the trunk of a tree, tie his hands behind his back, then his legs, and brace him to the tree, sitting upright against the trunk; that way he wouldn’t be able to crawl away. By the time she’d finished, he looked like a well-trussed turkey.

  Michaela kept busy. She checked on Fern; no change, no improvement. She stoked the fire, put three more branches onto its fading embers but, inside, she was shaking with relief and reaction. Although she had the upper hand, for now, she didn’t completely believe that he wouldn’t try something even though, bound as he was, she thought it would be almost impossible for him to. Twice she checked that she had tied him up securely — he’d have to be Houdini to get out of all the knots she’d used.

  God, but she was weary! Eventually, when she couldn’t think of anything else to do, she settled on the ground in the same spot she’d been in before he pounced on her. Tired as she was sleep did not come easily and, when it did, her dreams were fraught with replays of the Piper Cub crashing and Lenny’s hot, sweaty hands all over her …

  Lenny came to in the early hours of the morning. He had a monster headache to end all headaches. His left knee was aching like the devil but worse, he couldn’t move — because he’d been tied up, very professionally, too. His gaze rested on Michaela; she was sleeping on the other side of the fire, which was burning low now. He grunted. Christ, he had to give it to her, she was one hell of a woman.

  She had outwitted him, bested Mr Anonymous, the envy of the Sydney crime scene.

  His colleagues, but more particularly his enemies, were going to get a kick out of hearing this. And he, Lenny Kovacs, was now in a real fix. He had no doubt that when they were rescued, she would tell the authorities what he’d tried to do. Once the police suspected that he wasn’t the upright, successful businessman he pretended to be, there would be a whole chain reaction of questions … and charges! Grey eyes stared at the object of his affection across the fire and he wondered how it had all gone so wrong.

  He knew why. Christ Almighty, he never should have tried to force her … He shook his head regretfully, despite the fact that it made the pain i
n his head worse. Probably had a concussion, he reckoned, as well as a smashed kneecap. You are a bloody idiot, he berated himself. He’d let lust overtake good judgement and, in doing so, made a hash of everything.

  A muscle along the side of his jaw clenched in self-derision. Shit! He’d been so much in love with Michaela, wanted her so much, that he’d lost control and let his dick rule his head. Well, he was going to pay … The thought came to him and he grunted again as a blanket of depression settled over him … He’d pay in more ways than one …

  Joel knew something was wrong as soon as the Corvette snaked up the drive. Almost all the house lights were on, and it was close to midnight. Very unusual for a Sunday night at number fifty-two. Mum! Had something happened to her? He jerked the car to a stop outside the front steps, jumped out and raced into the house. In the living room he found Nick and Caroline sitting together on one sofa, surprisingly holding hands. Leith and Jeffrey were talking quietly in a corner near the window. He was relieved to see his mother sitting alone, her eyes closed.

  ‘What’s going on? What’s happened?’

  Nick was first to speak. ‘You’d better sit down, mate. There’s been an accident. Authorities believe that Michaela’s plane has crashed, somewhere near Coffs Harbour. It happened just on dusk, so an air search won’t begin till morning.’

  ‘Is Fern with her?’ Joel wanted to know. Absorbing the shock of Nick’s words, he collapsed onto the sofa close to his mother, as Nick and Leith filled him in with what information they had.

  ‘Yes,’ Caroline added, her tone subdued. ‘We don’t really know anything. Whether they’ve survived or …’ She bit her lip, shook her head and couldn’t continue.

  Laura opened her eyes and looked at her son. ‘Joel.’ She held out her hand and he took it. ‘It’s going to be okay.’ Her tone was positive. ‘They’re both going to be all right.’

  ‘How can you say that, Mum, you have no idea …?’

  Laura looked at Caroline, her eyes softened with compassion. ‘I don’t know how I know, I just know.’

  Before Joel came in, she had been dreaming — or was it dozing? — only half listening to the conversations around her. In the dream she had seen Michaela in a darkened flat area. All around her it was dark, except for a speck of light. She had seen that her daughter was unharmed, but she hadn’t found Fern in her brief dream. That worried her. Her precious granddaughter. Please God, don’t take her away from me. You have taken so many, including my Jack. Let me keep Fern, please. Sitting there, very still, Laura decided not to tell any of them about her dream, for fear that they would dismiss it as an old woman’s ramblings.

  ‘We should all try to get some rest,’ Laura suggested instead. ‘We’ll have to be up early tomorrow.’

  Nick looked at Caroline. Her mouth was tight, the expression in her blue eyes strained. He knew she was hurting, as was he. Not knowing one way or the other was taking a huge toll. He slid an arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. She didn’t pull away from him — he didn’t think she had the energy to.

  ‘Laura’s right. Tomorrow could be tough,’ Nick agreed.

  ‘Do you really think we’ll get much sleep?’ Caroline asked quietly. ‘I don’t think I will.’

  ‘Probably none of us will, but we should try to,’ Nick replied. He helped her up off the sofa and led her towards the living room door.

  Lenny couldn’t sleep. He was tied too tight and, besides, the headache and the pain in his knee made rest impossible. Instead he watched Michaela and noted that her hand still held the branch she’d used to club him. He thought she was asleep but he couldn’t be sure, because occasionally she moved trying to find a more comfortable position on the hard ground. For a while he let his gaze run over her, studying the majestic features, the long, slender body. Fool, you let your lust take over and now you’ve lost her forever.

  An ache began deep inside him. He knew it would never completely go away because it could never be appeased. He loved her, in spite of his stupid actions of a few hours ago, and he had failed to win her love. A fatalist, Lenny could accept that and, in spite of those feelings, now what consumed him more than his need for her was survival. When the rescue team found them he would be charged and arrested, as well as hospitalised for the damage she’d wrought upon his knee, which was aching almost unbearably.

  First thing to do, though, was to get free. He wriggled and squirmed, using his arm muscles to push against the bonds. Damn, she’d done a good job for an amateur. An hour later he was still as trussed up as he’d been before, his attempts to wriggle free of his bonds having been fruitless. The pain from the wounded knee was receding to a dull ache, especially if he didn’t move, but his headache was worse and his vision was blurring too.

  Sighing with defeat, he leant his head back against the tree trunk and tried to think of what he was going to tell the blue-shirted pigs when they arrived. As stories went, it would have to be good, damned good. Slowly his eyelids drooped and closed …

  The wake-up call of two kookaburras on the branch of a gum tree that leant over the crash site roused Michaela from her slumber. For maybe half a minute her eyes remained closed, simply because they refused to open. She rubbed her lids until they opened. She felt stiff and sore from the events of last night and the hard ground beneath her. As memories flooded back, her spine straightened and she sat up. She looked at Fern. No change. Oh, God! Her head turned to where she’d left Lenny tied to the tree. He was still there, staring balefully at her. She ignored him and got up to check on Fern.

  Kneeling beside Fern, she felt her forehead and noted that the young girl was abnormally cold, even with the jackets draped over her. Her pallor was worse, too, almost as white as the T-shirt she wore, and her breathing wasn’t as even as it had been last night. She sat back on her haunches and began to rock back and forth.

  Please, Fern, don’t die. I couldn’t bear it if you died. It would be her fault, and how could she ever look Nick or Caroline in the eye again? For a while she succumbed to tears, all the while holding her niece’s hand. Then, angry with herself for her weakness, she brushed the trickles of moisture from her cheeks and stood up.

  The signal fire. Get cracking, girl. It won’t do Fern any good or make her better to cry the morning away. Michaela lifted her face towards the sky. The clouds were breaking up and beyond lay a clear blue sky. It would be a good day for flying. Resolutely, and knowing that she dared not free Lenny to help, she put her joggers on. She squared her shoulders and walked towards the bushes to look for suitable firewood.

  The phone rang. Leith was the closest to it in the breakfast room, where everyone had been sitting since waking just before dawn. He picked up the handset. ‘Hello, Leith Danvers speaking.’

  ‘It’s Constable Sutherland, sir. Just ringing to let you know about the air search. Coffs Harbour police and airport personnel are coordinating the search from their end and will advise us as the search progresses. They’ve marshalled one helicopter and three light aircraft, which all took off at first light, ten minutes ago. They will search for Miss Beaumont’s plane using a standard grid pattern search method.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Leith felt every person’s eyes on him. ‘How often will they report in?’

  ‘Each time they complete a grid area search, I believe.’

  ‘You’ll keep us advised.’

  ‘Of course, sir. How is everyone … er … handling the situation? Do you need someone with counselling experience to come to the home?’

  ‘Thank you, no. We’re managing, for the time being.’

  ‘I’ll be in touch regularly, sir,’ Constable Sutherland reiterated as he hung up.

  Leith replaced the handset. ‘The planes are in the air, they’ve got four up. Evidently they have a set pattern of searching, and they’ll give us updates as often as they can.’

  Caroline got up from the table jerkily. Her hand to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears, she rushed into the kitchen. Then everyone heard the back d
oor slam shut as she went out to the garden.

  Laura looked at her stepson. ‘Go to her, Nick. She needs you.’

  Nick nodded and left the room. He found Caro by the swimming pool, staring into the water.

  She saw him approach and tried to get her emotions under control. Fear for Fern was eating her up inside, paralysing her. Through the long, sleepless night she had been imagining the worst. Picturing her daughter lying in a twisted, smoking fuselage, hurt, unable to move. Michaela, too. Her very capable, feisty sister, her body mangled, blood everywhere. Oh, Holy Mother of God, she was going to make herself sick if she didn’t stop having these thoughts … The trouble was, she couldn’t stop. And she wanted to be strong, for her mother, for Joel too, but strength-wise, she was running on empty. Where was the calm, the serenity, the ability to endure that everyone thought she had?

  ‘You okay?’

  She rounded on him. ‘No, I’m not bloody okay. How can I be okay, not knowing if Fern or Michaela’s all right? How can you ask such a dumb question?’

  Her anger stopped him for a moment, until he realised how out of control she was. He kept moving towards her and, when he got close enough, he pulled her into his arms and held her tight. ‘I know. I’m not okay either,’ he whispered. He felt her body shudder as she collapsed against his chest.

  ‘If anything has … if she’s …’ she sobbed into his shirt. ‘Oh, Nick, what will we do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ His throat tightened as his own fears took hold. What words of comfort could he give to Caro when he was out of his mind with worry himself? He continued to hold her, one hand massaging her stiff back while the other smoothed her fair hair. In a flash of perception, the anxieties he’d had about Caro’s new career moved into perspective. None of that mattered against what they were going through now. If they lost Fern … No! He wasn’t going to let that thought take hold, and he wouldn’t let Caro think it either.