by K M Gaffney
His eyes seemed to be searching hers, silently conveying the reflective nature of his thoughts.
“I really enjoy spending time with you and your boys,” he told her as he gently tugged her toward him, closing the distance between them.
All of the sudden, Olivia realized why she felt so nervous.
“Gavin,” she whispered.
Even as she spoke her next words there was a fierce internal battle waging inside her mind.
“I need some time to think, to process all that you’ve told me. I feel as though my marriage, or most likely the last five years of my marriage, was nothing but lies. Now I can understand why it had been slowly deteriorating and this afternoon, some of the guilt I’d been carrying over the last two years was lifted from my shoulders. But I still need time to process, perhaps, even grieve again.”
Gavin ran his hands down her arms to hold and stroke both of her hands. All she could think was how good it felt to be touched, held.
“Olivia, take all the time you need.” He leaned down to gently kiss her. Murmuring softly against her lips, he promised, “I’ll be nearby keeping an eye on you and your sons.”
He started to pull away so as to not overwhelm her, but she reached up and hungrily guided his mouth back down to hers. Gathering her up against him, he greedily relished her fervor. Then with considerable regret, Gavin ended the kiss. He smiled into her eyes and murmured against her ear.
“Good night, Olivia. I’ll see you soon.”
Chapter Eight
On Monday morning, Olivia awoke with a sick, heavy feeling lodged in the pit of her stomach. Still groggy from her second consecutive night of fitful, restless sleep, she initially believed she’d just experienced a terrible nightmare. But when her muddled thoughts began drifting to Gavin, she slowly smiled to herself.
No, she wasn’t awakening from a terrible nightmare or fantasizing about a wonderful dream, this was cold, hard reality. And I need to deal with all this new information about Tom, she firmly instructed herself before climbing out of bed.
The morning routine kept her mind occupied, which pleased her. As she got the kids ready for school, she intentionally suppressed the gnawing apprehension roiling angrily inside her belly. Her children were always her first priority; she needed to focus her attention on them.
“It snowed a bit last night,” Olivia called to the boys as they ran through the house hurriedly donning hats, coats, and gloves and then pulling on book bags. “I’ll drive you to the bus stop before I go into work for my half day.”
Being the exceptionally organized soul that she was, she planned on mentally tackling the Tom issue during her afternoon off. Until then, she’d keep it neatly packaged in the farthest recesses of her mind.
Once they were all piled into the SUV, Olivia waited for everyone to find their seats and buckle up, only half listening as the boys argued over who taken who’s seatbelt and who was leaning to close to another brother.
With an impatient sigh, she completely tuned them out. This was a daily event in their household.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, she watched as the garage door began slowly shuddering open and then looked around with a heart wrenching realization.
The entire perspective of my marriage has now been changed, forever, she acknowledged with regret. The way she would remember those final years with Tom was forever altered. It would be difficult to reminisce about her husband, her marriage as she’d done so recently on their wedding anniversary. The rose colored glasses had been wrenched away, leaving only gray bitterness.
After backing out, she started coasting down the driveway. At about fifty feet away from the garage, she remembered to close the door and hit the transmitter to do so. That’s why I’ve never liked parking in this blasted garage Tom just insisted we needed to add on, she silently griped and then continued down the drive into the bitter cold grayness of the early winter morning.
He’d been hiding out, freezing his ass off, in the frigid darkness for over an hour now. So when Olivia Jones pulled out of the garage and started down the driveway without immediately shutting the garage door, he could not believe his good fortune. She had inadvertently allowed him an extra few seconds to maneuver into a position that would make sliding under the closing garage door, even easier.
Slithering across the snow covered black top on his belly, he then log rolled the rest of the way in. He jumped to his feet and tried turning the door knob on the interior door that led from the garage to the kitchen. A sneer twisted his face when it rotated easily under his grip. She’s pretty much rolled out the red carpet for me, he thought as he confidently strode into the kitchen.
He was cold, wet, and hungry which made his discovery of the warm, leftover coffee in the carafe, even better. After helping himself to a cup of it, he rummaged through the kitchen pantry and selected a box of sugary cereal. It was devoured within minutes.
Drowsy from his breakfast, he decided to go upstairs and take a nap. After all, he’d needed to get up early this morning to be here on time. He made his way up the stairs, smiling luridly as he entered Olivia’s bedroom. Inhaling deeply, he breathed in the feminine scent of her room, it stirred his blood.
I might as well make myself at home; he decided and stretched out across the bed to await her return.
Olivia breezed through her morning at the office, grateful for the temporary diversion. Although as soon as she departed, she was again deeply mired within her restless thoughts. As she drove, she kept yawning, repeatedly.
Last night, sleep had evaded her for multiple reasons.
First of all, she was downright furious with Thomas Michael Jones.
How dare he lie and manipulate her all those years. I’d loved him and I grieved over his death, she recalled with anguish. Despair gripped her fiercely. How could it be I’d never had any suspicions about Tom?
Now she felt like a fool. A scared fool, she thought miserably as she drove home. How far would this ex- accomplice be willing to go to obtain this supposed information? Now she had the added bonus of the unsettling realization that her children might not be safe. However, as nerve wracking as Tom’s “accomplice” was, she had to admit, the newly developing relationship with Gavin was what currently rattled her the most.
The devastating knowledge of never even really knowing the man who’d been her husband for twelve years, made Olivia seriously doubt her ability to gauge other people. Even Gavin Rafferty, she decided and then corrected herself, especially Gavin Rafferty.
I’d already decided to never to have a relationship while my boys were young, she recalled, trying to reestablish the walls he’d begun breaking down around her heart. I need to be able to focus my sole attention on raising them. For goodness sake, if Tom and I had trouble maintaining a marriage, then attempting a relationship with a man who’s not even their father would be nearly impossible.
She stopped reprimanding herself long enough to swing the SUV into the end of her driveway, unbuckle her seatbelt and step out to get the mail.
Gavin Rafferty definitely isn’t marriage material. He’s probably just looking for some short term, illicit affair. I’ll bet he’s assumed since my husband has been dead for the last two years that I ought to be easy to get into bed. Well, that man has another thing coming, she fumed.
Angrily tossing the mail onto the passenger seat, she climbed back into the SUV and started up the driveway. Deeply engrossed in her assumptions about Gavin’s intentions, she never even noticed the footsteps or body impressions scattered throughout the tire tracks, in the snow covering the driveway.
The sound of the garage door opening woke him from his nap. He blinked open his eyes, performing a quick visual sweep around Olivia’s bedroom. A vile grin spread across his face once he decided emerging from her bedroom closet would be the best way to greet her.
“I’m going to give that man a call and inform him of his serious judgment in error,” Olivia muttered as she entered her kitchen.
; She dropped the mail upon the kitchen counter and picked up her telephone, anxious for the opportunity to ream the second man, who’d dare to take advantage of her. But after glancing down at her spattered scrubs she decided to get changed first. So she laid the phone down, close to the scattered mail and began exiting the kitchen. She caught a quick glimpse of the used coffee mug and cereal encrusted bowl, sitting in her kitchen sink, and thought it was odd. Incensed over Gavin, it barely made her radar which spoke volumes to her degree of agitation. Dirty dishes left lying about were a big no-no in her house, often reminding the boys their hands weren’t broken and they knew how to open a dishwasher.
Preoccupied, Olivia stomped up the staircase and stalked into her bedroom, concentrating on exactly what she’d tell Gavin Rafferty when he answered the phone. So she didn’t notice the rumpled quilt on her bed or the disordered, flattened pillows as she sat down to remove her shoes. Toeing off her sneakers, she stood up again to remove her scrub top. Just as she began tugging it over her head, her face disappearing inside the fabric, a squeaking door hinge caught her attention. Alarmed, Olivia slowly drew the top off and then whipped around.
The shock of finding a greasy, pock faced man, standing just outside the closet door, paralyzed her. She completely forgot about the scrub top, lying in a heap at her feet on the floor, leaving her bare to his leering gaze. Transfixed, she could only stare at stranger who stood about her height, looking ready to pounce.
“Well, now what do we have here?” he drawled, taking menacing steps toward her.
Her self imposed immobility shattered upon his approach. Gathering her wits, Olivia tried darting past him, into the hallway.
Intent on capturing his prey, he lunged forward. Gripping her upper arms, he imprisoned her with bony fingers.
“You’re not going anywhere, Mrs. Jones.” He flashed his signature sleazy smile. “We’d never had the pleasure to meet and I for one would like to become better acquainted.” Tightening his grip, his beady gaze shifted lower, pausing on the curves of Olivia’s shirtless torso.
“But first, I need to acquire the computer files and insurance policies, your husband hid somewhere in this house.”
As he traced an icy finger over the soft, exposed flesh overflowing the satin of her bra, he grinned.
“After you give me what I want, I’ll be sure to give you want you want,” he sneered. “I know Tom wouldn’t have minded sharing you. After all, we are or shall I say we were, old friends.”
Fear had temporarily paralyzed her ability to speak, but at the use of Tom’s name Olivia finally found her voice.
“Let go of me,” she hissed, bringing her free hand up to strike at him as she struggled to pull away.
He managed to gain better control of her by digging both sets of long manicured finger nails into her arms, leaving bloody, crescent moon shapes gauged into her skin.
His soulless black eyes were immediately drawn to her chest.
“Now, now, Olivia! I’m not ready for you to put on a show quite yet.”
He gave her a violent shake, rattling her teeth. “Where in the hell are those policies?”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” she gasped, biting back a whimper as his fingers pierced even deeper into her flesh.
“Then I guess I’m going to have to help you to understand.”
Rearing back his hand, he slapped Olivia with all his might. The impact made the right side of her face feel like it was going to explode. She stumbled, landing painfully on her knees, near the wicker chair outside the bathroom doorway. Her face was on fire. The throbbing flesh underneath her eye was already beginning to swell as he dragged her back onto her feet. Wrapping one thick arm around her neck, to hold her still, his other free hand began traveling downward, toward her hips. Instead of hitting her again, his exploration moved up, squeezing her, fondling her skin.
His violent strike against her had caused his blood to heat.
“Maybe I am ready for my show,” he whispered against her ear.
With revulsion threatening to gag her, Olivia bit down as hard as she could on the sweatshirt material covering the imprisoning forearm.
The painful sting of her bite partially loosened his grip, enabling her to elbow him, hard, in the stomach.
Then she ran.
She’d only made it to the hall landing before he recovered enough to follow her. Adrenaline pumping, she barely felt his hand grip her left shoulder or his nails tear into her bare skin. Desperate, she dropped to her bottom and slid all the way down the staircase. As soon as she hit the first floor, she scrambled onto her feet and ran into the kitchen. She grabbed a butcher knife out of the wooden knife block with one hand and swiped up the phone she’d left on the counter with the other. Even as she dialed 911, Olivia heard his final threat as he flung open her front door.
I’m going to kill you when I return,” he furiously roared before fleeing her property.
Chapter Nine
Officer Ron Barton had just returned to the precinct after resolving another domestic dispute on Maple Lane when dispatch diverted him to Olivia Jones’s address. After the dispatcher relayed the nature of Olivia’s frantic call, Ron paused only long enough to contact Gavin, and then sprinted back out to his cruiser. He sped down familiar back roads, covering the short distance in record time. As Ron raced toward the narrow entrance to Olivia’s driveway, he cursed a blue streak, slamming on his brakes in order to prevent a near collision with Gavin’s cruiser.
Gavin never slowed down and just continued fish tailing around the corner into the driveway, arriving at Olivia’s house first. After skidding to a stop, he cut the motor and raced up the steps, two at a time.
The front door was wide open as Ron paused, weapon drawn, and called into the house.
“Olivia, it’s Officer Barton!”
Disregarding all protocol, his fool friend had already barreled through the open door.
“Olivia, where are you?” Gavin was shouting as he frantically swept down the hallway, scouting out each room as he went.
Not finding her, Gavin exploded as Ron crossed the threshold. “Where the hell is she?”
Just as he and Ron burst into the kitchen, a slight almost imperceptible movement caught Gavin’s attention. Spinning around, he spied Olivia huddled by the back door. Shaking uncontrollably, she was wearing only a bra and scrub bottoms while desperately clenching a butcher knife.
Obviously in shock, she hadn’t even looked up when the two men had stormed into the kitchen.
“Oh Livvie!” Ron gasped, hurrying toward her.
Gavin stopped him.
“Get out of here, Barton,” he growled, launching his partner halfway across the room with a violent shove to the chest. Then he rushed over and crouched down beside her, whispering her name.
Groggy, Olivia lifted her eyes to focus on Gavin’s familiar face and immediately recognized a hard look of fury. Harnessing his rage, knowing Olivia didn’t need his anger, he gently ran his fingertips over her swollen right eye and noted the bloody gashes on her bare shoulder.
“I think I’m okay,” she whispered, offering him a weak attempt at a smile.
“The hell you are,” he growled then leaned forward and carefully lifted her into his arms. Long, angry strides carried her out of the kitchen and half way down the hall before Ron stopped Gavin with a firm grip on his shoulder.
“She just seems really shook up. She’s gonna be alright. We need to …”
“Get the hell out of my way, Ron,” Gavin ordered his tone lethal.
He started stomping up the staircase, careful not to cause Olivia anymore undue discomfort than necessary. Safe within his arms, she rested her bruised face against the solid strength of his hard chest.
I’m going to kill whoever did this to her, he silently vowed as he glanced down at the woman in his arms. Appalled to see the numerous bruises and bleeding claw marks on her skin, he instinctively held her closer.
Cautiously, Ol
ivia lifted her eyes to meet his and shuddered. The unmistakable look of murder was raging furiously within those cold, blue eyes.
“What are you doing?” Ron called out after him, incredulously.
“I’m taking her with me,” Gavin ground out. “You can talk to her later. Call Maddy,” were the last words out of his mouth.
As he reached the top step, he looked down at her again and breathed out, “Dear God, Olivia.”
“I am able to walk,” she murmured.
“Not right now you won’t,” he said, turning in the direction of her bedroom.
He felt her body flinch within his arms.
“Not my room. I’m not ready to go back into my room yet,” she whispered and then gestured across the hall. “Please, take me over there, to the guest room.”
Gavin strode through the guest room doorway and gingerly placed her down upon the bed. A quick hard tug on the dark blue comforter enabled him to swiftly draw it up, covering her naked shoulders.
He paused then and studied her for a long, silent moment. Ever so carefully, Olivia swept her own fingers up to lightly examine the tender swollen bruise around her eye. Sheesh, the way he’s staring, I must look absolutely terrible.
Self conscious, she dropped her hands and her gaze.
“It’s hurting you”.
It wasn’t a question, just a statement of fact.
He then stalked over to the window and stared out at the haphazardly parked police cars. Recognizing the uncontrollable fury threatening to erupt, Gavin knew he desperately needed to remain in control of his temper, for Olivia’s sake.
He needed a few minutes to pull himself together.
“I’m going down to the kitchen to get some ice for your face. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Within the blink of an eye, he was gone.
She stared after him, for just a few seconds, before staggering over to collapse into the black Windsor chair nestled between the guestroom windows.
