“Collin, this is ridiculous. We haven’t heard a peep. He’s been scared off.”
“Two weeks of silence does not mean he’s given up. He’s out there. Waiting.”
“You are driving me insane. I love you. I do. But this constant hovering is too much. Please, give me some breathing room.”
“Not until I catch this asshole. And don’t ‘aw, Collin’ me.”
Brooke sighed, realizing that Francine’s description of Collin had been accurate. The man was like a pit-bull. He had his teeth sunk into a bone, and there was no way he would let go until he was damn good and ready. She was restless and in need of some fresh air, and he refused to even take her jogging in the morning… an activity she never believed she would miss until now.
She plopped into a chair with a huge scowl and made a face as he wagged his finger at her. “Watch it, kiddo. I am just looking out for you. Excuse me. Hey, Franko. Any leads?” he asked, putting the phone on speaker.
“Just one. Did your little buddy make a recent furniture purchase lately?”
“Yeah, but she used the channels for delivery.”
“Are you aware that she stole them from her ex? He filed a police report for the missing items. Apparently, someone forged a false will with a beneficiary.”
“Holy shit. Brooke!”
She winced, biting her lip as Collin’s face reddened with anger. She mouthed the word ‘sorry’ and watched as his palm twitched against his pant leg. She had learned that sign usually meant trouble for her bottom.
“Bet she is gonna get a good ass-whipping for this little stunt, huh?” Frank laughed.
“What are you talking about?” Collin growled into the phone as he pointed to the corner. Brooke rapidly scurried to put her nose into it.
“Oh, the security guys have heard what goes on in your house, buddy. They are great at hiding in shadows, you know. Betcha you never knew they’ve been around watching and listening to everything. I just never thought you would have such a kinky side. I’m impressed.”
“Let’s get something straight, Frank,” Collin said firmly, “You are supposed to be in charge of the security, which means a certain degree of professionalism is expected. Gossip is unacceptable. I want every one of those men removed from the detail and replaced with ones that can do their job without getting their jollies off with my personal business. Second, I am a firm believer in domestic discipline. I am not going to explain myself to you or anyone else, but I do suggest you do some research into the subject before you pass judgment. Got it?”
“Touchy, aren’t we? Are you fucking her too, Golde?”
“I am going by Doyle here, asshole. Lay off. I’m not going to tell you again,” Collin warned. He hung up the line and walked to stand by Brooke’s side. “Should I even ask what you were thinking, Brooke? And you lied to me on top of it.”
“I’m sorry, Collin! I really thought I had covered all the bases. I never figured the idiot would have called the cops.”
“Well, your little act of defiance provided our culprit a map to get to you.”
“But how, exactly? I mean, the trail is supposed to be hidden in the Bureau’s system. He had to have been given access to find the final destination, right?”
“Yes. That is what I am afraid of. “
“I’m in big trouble again, aren’t I?” Brooke asked nervously.
“Yes. Major trouble. Because the walls have ears, this punishment will happen after we catch the psycho. I don’t need Frank harassing me about this right now.”
“Can that jerk get you in trouble with your job?”
“Frank? He’s as dumb as a nail and all talk. Besides, I have enough material on him that would make what I do look like child’s play.”
“If you say so. Can I get out of the corner?”
“No.”
“Aw, Collin… Fine.”
* * *
The ensuing weeks were quiet, with no hide or hair from Brooke’s attacker. Collin continued to act as Brooke’s personal bodyguard around the clock, thoroughly convinced that the killer waited in the woods for her to go outside unattended. Even though the security detail remained hidden and out of sight, Collin reserved warming the woman’s bottom for when they would have privacy. Brooke found that she missed the contact of his hand against her bottom and the sense of security and caring that came with it. Her darkening moods coupled with her history of rebellion led Collin to take even greater and more stringent precautions to keep her safe.
Because Rolland and Francine had regular jobs in the tiny town, Brooke was either on full lock-down, with him guarding the door, or having to hide herself each time groceries and supplies were delivered. He heightened his efforts as the third Wednesday of the month approached, confining her to the bedroom and not permitting her to step on foot outside. Her frustration grew daily, and she became sullen and moodier than ever.
That third Wednesday brought forth the news that the monster had attacked another victim, clear across the country. As before, the victim was single and without any attachments. He was found in a high current river that fed into a reservoir on the outskirts of a small town near Boise, Idaho. Confident that the killer was a creature of habit, Brooke was able to justify her next move.
Desperate for sunshine, she snuck out of the house early the following morning, slipping from Collin’s sleeping form. She happily perused the yard and returned to the house an hour later. She walked into the living room and paused. The odor of sickly sweet cologne permeated the air. Brooke froze, terror seeping through her blood. He was here, in this house, and he had come for her. Trembling, she reached for the phone and picked up the receiver.
“Do you think I am stupid enough to let you call out?” a gravelly voice asked from behind as a hand clamped over her mouth. Brooke felt a sharp object press against her throat as her arms were yanked behind her back.
“Who are you?” Brooke gasped, her legs turning to rubber as he pulled her against him.
He ignored her question. “Did you like my little diversion, baby doll?” the man’s voice whispered in her ear. “It’s so easy to just hop on a plane and go anywhere you want as long as you have some bucks and an ID. You are so pretty now. Too bad I have to undo all that fancy work. What a pity.”
“Why are you doing this?” Brooke choked out, trying to stay calm as he backed her out. She eyed a clay vase near the doorway. “Please help me understand. What are you trying to get out of this?”
“Justice, pretty girl. You took someone important to me away, and now I am going to take what’s important to you. Your life.”
“If you had known me,” Brooke said as he inched closer to the vase, “you would have known that my life wasn’t important. What you did to me was a blessing, and I wanted to thank you.”
“What? You are a crazy bitch. Fuck!” he hissed as she knocked the vase over. It crashed into hundreds of pieces.
“Brooke?” Collin called.
“No! Don’t come down here! He’s—”
“Frank?” Collin froze halfway down the stairs, gun in hand. “Frank, what are you doing? Let her go.”
“She killed my kid brother. She killed my father and turned my mother into a whore and killed her too. She has to pay.”
“Put the gun down, Frank. What happened to your family?”
“I’m not playing this game. Especially with you. Since your life isn’t important to you,” Frank growled in Brooke’s ear, “maybe I should first take your happiness.”
“No!” Brooke screamed as Frank leveled the gun at Collin’s chest and pulled the trigger. Brooke stared in horror as Collin crumpled against the stairwell, blood pooling rapidly from his wound.
Brooke stared mutely at Collin’s broken body, helpless as his life drained from him. Where was security? Surely they heard gun fire! It dawned on her… Collin had said Frank was in charge of the security detail. Of course no one came to help. He did not want anyone else to know of their hiding place.
“Coll
in…” Brooke choked, trying to pull anyway from her assailant to go to the still man, “Collin, I am so sorry! I love you!”
“How touching. Don’t worry,” he bit her ear lobe, making Brooke shudder in disgust, “the pain of his death won’t last very long. You’ll be joining him pretty soon. I really wish I had some time to enjoy you before I finish my chore, but I really am not into sloppy seconds.”
Frank dragged the sobbing woman outside and to the boat house where the tiny row boat was already waiting. He tied her hands behind her back and stuffed a cloth drenched with his cheap cologne in her mouth. The stench made her gag, and her head swam with dizzying nausea as fear enveloped her. He chatted insipidly about the nice break in weather as he shoved Brooke to the bottom of the little boat. She cried out as her hip jammed against the corner of a metal box, sending shocks of biting pain down her leg.
The pain jarred her to reality. The metal container was Collin’s emergency box. Hope glimmered as she used her fingers to lift the lid and feel around. She urged the lighter into her hand and turned it to burn the ropes, praying that the smell of the pungent cologne mixed with the heavily scented sea water would disguise the odor of burning hemp. She also prayed for time.
Frank gleefully shared his story as he slowly rowed towards the center of the harbor, cursing as the waves hindered his speed and frequently pushed the little boat back towards the shoreline, delaying his goal. He informed Brooke that after she had testified during the Gardenia Killer trial and his half-brother was found guilty, Frank’s father drank himself to his grave. His mother, with no means of financial support, sold her body until she was found in the gutter one afternoon. Frank stated that he could have helped her financially, of course, but that was not his responsibility.
No, his parents’ situation was caused by the thoughtless convictions of the laughable jury and court practices. His brother had meant everything to them, and now, because of her irresponsible statements, he was left without a family. He stated that he really didn’t mind losing his brother, in fact, it was a blessing since that left Frank room to be the favorite son. But that did not occur as his parents’ grief hindered their ability to even notice him. He emphasized that things would have been different if Brooke and the other selfish individuals had kept silent. But they had insisted on taking the bait and believing the lies about his brother. Frank mused for a moment, admiring his own cleverness of adding a fishhook to his victims to symbolize how easily fooled one could be.
Frank then explained that the Gardenia Killer was justified in the murders he committed. Each person chosen had the potential to be evil and so his half-brother kindly replaced their wicked hearts with a flower. It was coincidental that the choice of gardenia was related to the bushes surrounding his parents’ home.
Brooke felt the cords loosen as the madman shared the joy of his brother’s execution, which had occurred on the third Wednesday of that particular month. His tone was serious as he stated it had been appropriate to commemorate that day with taking the lives of those who stole his own, potentially happy life. He laughed, explaining how their two souls merged together for vengeance. It had been easy to fool the Bureau, Frank said nonchalantly. He simply used a birth certificate and social security number that had belonged to an acquaintance of his—a drug user who had incidentally turned up missing and whose absence had never been reported.
Frank methodically explained how he had decided to best punish people who had left him alone in the world. They would never be missed, just like his family, and there was little left to identify them by appearance. It was no big deal, since no one cared that they were gone from this world anyway. Brooke, he commented, was the exception. She would have to understand that he was obligated to finish what he had started, which was why he did not wait another month to take her. He apologized profusely for not having access to a metal drum to lock her in this time around, and he also expressed his knowledge of how she would miss being sedated and listening to him bang on the drum to keep her awake.
Brooke’s hands were free, and she felt around for an object she could use to save herself. Her hand clasped around the air horn, while the other grabbed the small ‘steering’ oar that rested along the inside edge of the craft. Frank paused his boasting to look around for oncoming vessels, and Brooke seized her chance.
She pressed the air horn directly in his face, causing him to scream out as he grabbed his ears. Brooke grasped the oar and swung as hard as she could, cracking it against his head. He slumped unconsciously to the deck, his cracked skull pulsing with a trickle of blood. With shaking hands, Brooke used the gauze from the emergency kit to tightly bind his hands and feet and then soaked the cotton with salt water to add to the strength. Numbly, she lifted the flair gun to the air and released the three pellets.
She fainted in a lifeless heap as she heard the sirens of the harbor patrol approaching. Her nightmare was over.
But so was her hope. Collin was gone.
Chapter Eleven
Brooke stared blankly out the window of the patrol car. It had been three days since Frank had attacked her. Three days since… since Collin left her life. Rolland and Francine had been allowed to contact her the day she had been taken for evaluation at the hospital, and they had urged her to stay in Stockton Springs now that she was free. They assured her she had a home there and that they would care for her. But what was a home without Collin?
“Congratulations, Mrs. Doyle, you left your attacker both deaf and blind on one side. Remind me not to cross you if you have an oar in your hand,” the police officer said following her questioning and brief hospitalization. Frank was wheelchair bound with severe brain injuries, and his trial was set one month away.
Denise had arrived at the hospital, fussing over the woman and ensuring that her mental health was stabilized. Her testimony had been recorded, freeing her from having to appear and face her attacker a second time. She had Denise to thank for that, for the physician insisted that the trauma of being in the same room with him again would be devastating. But she was grief-stricken, stunned by the fact that Denise did not even mention Collin or her feelings about his death. How could this woman who had known him for so long now pretend that the man had never existed? Brooke bit back tears. Indeed, it was easier not to love. There was no pain that way.
The patrol car pulled into the driveway where Francine was waiting. The older woman embraced Brooke, holding her so tightly that Brooke was unable to breath.
“Oh, honey, are you alright? They wouldn’t let us talk with you, and—”
“Francine, I need some time alone. I appreciate—”
“Let’s get you settled in,” Francine announced. “Dinner is all ready for you. That chicken and stuffing recipe you like.”
“That was Collin’s recipe. I can’t eat it without thinking of him. And thinking of him hurts too much.”
“I thought you liked that recipe.” Francine looked confused. “You have to eat, honey. Come inside.”
“I really appreciate your intent, but I’m sick to my stomach,” Brooke said, following her inside.
“Why? Because I still owe you a spanking for the furniture fiasco? Plus one for sneaking out after I specifically forbade it. Do you have anything to say for yourself, kiddo?”
Brooke froze mid-step to stare at the tall man with his left arm bound in a sling. She cried out, flinging herself into his arms and covering him with kisses and happy tears.
“You’re alive! I thought he killed you! You went down, and—”
“Shhh, I’m fine. He caught me in the shoulder, just missing my artery. It’s gonna take a while to get this wing flying again, but that’s won’t make a difference since I am right-handed.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I don’t need my left hand to spank you, silly girl. And that is exactly what I intend to do once our guests leave.”
“Aw, Collin,” she kissed him. “Do you have to?”
The End
Stormy Nigh
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More Stormy Night Books by Breanna Hayse
Cowboys Know Best
As the only daughter of a powerful mafia Don, Perlita Moretti is accustomed to a life of pampered luxury, but on the evening of her nineteenth birthday, the family home is brutally attacked by another mob boss, her father is killed, and her entire life is forever changed.
Saved from the carnage by her beloved uncle, she flees for her life. She quickly discovers that the world outside her Long Island mansion is quite different and much larger than she had expected. She soon finds herself lost and very much alone somewhere in western Pennsylvania.
At a small diner, a desperate, terrified Perl runs into Henry ‘Hank’ Billings, a cowboy from a small Texas town who is finishing up some personal business in the region. After a rocky introduction, Hank comes to her rescue when mob goons show up.
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