Sam didn't slow down as Sean called to him, "Dad, there are coaches and football players parked on the other side of the building. She's not really …."
CHAPTER THREE
Brit was so tired she could hardly see straight. She stared toward the chalkboard, thankful she has saved one of the roll-away green boards when dry erase boards replaced the old-fashioned ones. The smells of chalk dust and pencil shavings usually made her feel at home. Some things didn't seem to change. But she'd swear Sam's spicy scent lingered. Her stomach churned.
"Guess I'm just too hungry. I should've gone to supper with Julie. She'd have waited 'til I finished my last conference," Brit mumbled. "A relaxing, cold Strawberry Daiquiri or two would taste wonderful, with extra whipped cream."
Julie was the reason they were teaching at the same school. Her best friend since childhood had drawn her from her depression. There hadn't been time to tell Julie about last night's call or even about Sean's dad following her home. Julie wouldn't believe the strange story about the gifts, or the obscene call, or about a man showing up on Brit's doorstep so late.
The last parent had been a My-kid-is-a-good-student-and-I-can't-believe-he's-failing parent. A look at her grade book and his most recent test score had made a small dent in the mother's superior attitude. The parent had left with a copy of the same list of assignments Brit had given each parent, with a deadline for completing the work for even partial credit. She closed her laptop and put into its carrying case.
At a sound in the hall Brit glanced up as Mr. James, the custodian, stuck his head in the doorway to warn her to wait for him to escort her from the building. She pulled the old window shades down to the lowest window, shutting out much of the parking lot light. Standing behind her desk, Brit lifted her purse from a cabinet drawer. After checking her desk drawers she glanced up as the lights went out, leaving her room almost dark. Who would've cut off the light when she was visible from the door? She glanced up to see the large silhouette of a man standing in the lit doorway.
"Mr. James? I'm in here and I still need the light, so could you please cut it back on for a minute?" Brit asked. The silhouette was silent, looming. "Wait – you're not Mr. James. Who are you?"
The dark figure moved silently toward Brit. She could read menace in his stance, the predatory way he moved. Her throat seemed to close for seconds as danger stared her in the eye. No one else should have been in the building this late.
"Who are you?" Brit repeated, her gut churning. She could see part of his harsh, handsome face but didn't recognize him. She glanced around the room. Not a weapon in sight. She tried to keep her voice calm and authoritative. "Look, you'll have to come back tomorrow if you need a conference. It's after hours."
"Don't you even know who I am?" a petulant, low-pitched voice murmured. "I'm disappointed, Sugar." He arched a bushy blond eyebrow.
His voice filled Brit with revulsion. Certain he was toying with her; she moved from behind her desk, grabbed her purse and tote bag. Please, God, let Mr. James be back soon. Would anyone hear her if she screamed or would it just make her tormentor angry? Show no fear. Show no fear. Her brothers had taught her to defend herself against stronger opponents. She could stall this man until she could get past him.
"After the gifts I sent you last night I expected a warmer welcome from you. I went through a lot of trouble to please you," he drawled. "You weren't very friendly." He crossed muscular arms across a broad chest.
"Why would you send me gifts? I don't know you." She tried to sound reasonable, struggled to control her breathing. If only she could get him to talk maybe he'd let her go. "Maybe if I could get to know you better?"
He shook his head. "You called your boyfriend and the cops on me. That wasn't nice. A woman should show appreciation when a man does romantic stuff. I'm here, ma belle donna, to collect."
There was no mistaking the threat in the term of endearment as the stranger moved closer. He didn't act like he'd heard what she said. She chewed her bottom lip so hard it hurt. He stopped in front of the desk. She eased away from the only protection in her room; certain he could read her mind. She needed to get around him to the door. He stared at her while he wrapped the end of a handkerchief around a large, hairy hand.
He was still too close for her to get to the door. Brit raised her voice and ordered, "Leave, or I'll call --"
"Don't bother, Sugar," the man purred. "We're alone at last. I can do all the things you've wanted me to do but were too shy to ask."
Brit's pulse raced. She had to escape now, while she could. Oh, God, she had to get out of this!
He chuckled. "Nobody's gonna disturb us, now. That old man's not coming back for you. I saw to it. We got the place all to ourselves all night."
Brit screamed as she dashed toward the door. Pain shot through her left arm as a vise-like grip jerked her back. Her purse fell to the carpeted floor. She swung her tote toward his head but he snatched it and threw it across the room, spilling its contents. Now there was no way for her to get to her keys and use them as a weapon to draw blood.
"You aren't going anywhere until I'm done with you," the attacker snarled in her ear. His good guy mask back in place, he shook his head while he stroked the place he'd grabbed.
"Look what you made me do, Sugar. You shouldn't run from me. It brings out my mean side." His eyes narrowed, his kind expression changed. "Now why don't you shut the Hell up? Women who don't do as they are told make me hurt them. I can shut that smart mouth."
Pain clouded her vision. Should she beg? Should she pretend to go along with him, just 'til she could try to get away?
"Bet you're good with those luscious lips. Thinking about the things you could do to my cock with your tongue makes me harder than a rock."
Revulsion filled her as the assailant whirled her and yanked both hands behind her, pushing her trembling body flush with his. She knew the fear must show but she brazened it, she had to.
"Get your filthy hands off me!" Brit yelled in his face. She tried to twist away from his grasp, but was rewarded by a slap that left her head ringing. If she could push away enough to lift her knee to his crotch, she might be able to escape. God, the man was strong.
"I warned you! Don't cross me again," he sneered. "You can't get away from me." His fast breathing and the grinding of his erection against her belly sent a bolt of fear searing through Brit, fear like none she had ever known before. She tried to kick him.
He dodged her efforts like he knew where she'd aim. He laughed at her.
This cannot be happening to me. Things like this happen to other people in the news, to strangers. I'll wake up soon, wishing for dreams of protective Sam.
Her attacker's hateful voice broke through the protective fog in her brain. "Don't stop fighting me now, we're just beginning to have some real fun, teacher."
"No-o-o!" Brit screamed. She wanted to vomit from the humiliation and pain and pure fear. She had to get away!
Gripping her skirt waistband, he yanked, popping the front buttons loose and tearing buttonholes.
He pushed her down to the top of her desk, sending books and papers and her laptop case crashing to the floor.
She tried to kick him but his weight held her.
"Did you really think it would help to call the cops?"
She twisted beneath his weight and fought cruel hands yanking her blouse up, mauling her breasts. Holding her down with the weight of his sweaty body, he turned loose aching breasts to grab her hands. Stretching them above her head, he clamped them with one hand to give him freedom to run the other one over her body.
Bile rose in her throat, nearly choking her.
He released her wrists to grab her jaw as he lowered his face toward her mouth.
Grabbing the hair hanging over his forehead, Brit yanked.
He rewarded her with a blow to her head, knocking her to the floor. He was on her again before she caught her breath. If she could reach the case ....
She stretched one arm.
<
br /> He bellowed, "You don't learn! The teacher isn't so high and mighty now, is she?" He clamped a hand around her throat. His pale blue eyes gleamed with madness.
Though stunned, she would fight for her life as long as she was conscious. Her world dimmed around the edges while she tried to pull in oxygen.
Brit's flailing legs struck nothingness. She coughed. The body of the attacker rose and sailed through the air. Someone had turned on the lights.
"Help her, Son!" Sam, thank God.
Sam pounded the assailant with such force Brit thought he might kill him. Then his eyes softened in concern for a second before he was caught by surprise by the man he tried to subdue.
Two combatants scrambled when Sam tried to grab the escaping man. With the strength of desperation, the assailant fled Sam's grasp and stumbled to the door, then ran down the hall.
Following him to the door Sam looked back to see Sean covering Brit with his jacket. "Just get him!" Brit pleaded. "Go, Sam! Hurry!"
Sam threw his jacket toward Sean and raced down the hall, shouting. "Don't let the son-of-a-bitch out the door! Stop him!"
Sean slid his dad's folded jacket under her head as a pillow, but Brit tried to rise. "Please don't move, ma'am," Sean whispered. His blue eyes were wide with shock and fear. He reached into his back pocket for his handkerchief. Awkward, he wiped blood left by the blow to her mouth. "Dad will get help."
"Thanks, Sean," she shakily clutched her blouse closed. "No broken bones. He didn't get the chance to h-h-hurt me m-much, thanks to you and your father," Brit reassured him.
She tried to rise, but stopped when the jacket Sean had placed on her lap slid to expose the lack of a skirt or slip. "Oh." She looked away in embarrassment to see a small pile of shiny fabric on the floor near her legs, her torn slip.
"Thanks, Sean."
"Dad!" Sean exclaimed, looking toward the doorway.
"Sam!" Brit was so relieved to see him back she almost cried, but she wouldn't let herself break down yet.
"Brit." Sam took Sean's place, sending him to watch for the police and the ambulance. "I didn't get him. Sorry! He was too damned fast. He pushed Mr. James into my path. I almost ran him down. Are you all right?"
While Sam rambled as though he didn't know what to say, Brit sensed his fear and anguish, his frustration at failing to catch her attacker!
"If he hurt you I'll kill him. Did he .... "
"I'm okay, I think. And no, he d-didn't." She took a deep calming breath. "You and Sean got here in time." She shook her head to clear it. "Why were you here at this hour?"
She interrupted before he could say the words that would make the experience too real. Her body shook. One more word and she'd be stuttering from delayed reaction.
Sam swore under his breath. If he'd answered her question, she missed the answer.
He sat down on the floor and took her in his arms, re-covering her with his jacket. "Teach, if anything had happened I would've ... Maybe I'll kill him anyway, dirty bastard!"
The comfort of Sam's arms around her all but stopped her trembling, replacing fear with the warmth of safety. Leaning her head against Sam's chest felt so good! .If she could stay here a minute she would be strong enough to face the questions the police would ask.
"Sam, how did you and Sean find me when you did?"
"We saw your car in the parking lot as we were leaving. Sean needed to get some book he had to borrow. I can't explain, but I got this strange feeling you were in danger."
She tilted her head to look into his eyes. "Like the ones you had last night?"
Sam nodded, rubbing her back. "Kinda. We didn't think you should be here alone so late. We didn't think about Mr. James waiting for you, and I'm glad we didn't. If we'd not come back, if we'd been a minute later. God knows, I don't want to think of the what-ifs!"
"Are you psychic, or something?"
"Or something." He shrugged. The friction of fabric against her cheek released his masculine scent.
"Sam! You didn't call an ambulance? I don't need --"
"Shush. You should be checked for injuries. Anyway, while I chased the son-of-a-bitch into the parking lot, Mr. James called 911. They're sending the police and an ambulance."
"But, Sam," Brit looked up to see two police officers, followed by two paramedics carrying a gurney.
"Sir? Ma'am?" Two policemen advanced, followed by a man and a woman in scrubs, and Sean, and Mr. James.
"Dad?" Sean blurted, startling Sam and Brit, as Sam started to rise, then thought better.
"Sir?" A policeman came forward, signaling behind to the two paramedics who advanced with the gurney and a blanket.
"Oh," Sam rose with Brit in his arms as though she weighed nothing and placed her on the gurney. In his arms, she felt safe. When he gently removed her arms encircling his neck, she wanted to keep them there. Keeping her hands in his, he held them, comforted her.
"Officer, could we get her to a hospital before we put her through questioning?" Sam asked.
"Please." She gripped his hands like a lifeline. "Officer, it was a harrowing experience but I'm not injured. I can answer questions and get them over." She hoped she told the truth. The shock could set in and blow any coherent thoughts from her head.
"Officer, she needs medical attention," Sam snapped. "You can question her after she gets care."
"Sir, we need to know what happened so we can begin our investigation immediately." He held a small, black notebook open. His partner had taken out a small tape recorder and inclined his head toward her in question. When she nodded, he pushed the button.
Brit began. "I had completed my last conference and was preparing to leave ..." Her voice, strong at first, wavered as her fear was relived. Sam's arm slipped around her shoulder, his eyes glaring at the men for putting her through the torture of re-living the near rape. She continued, " … I t-tried to outrun him .... "
When Brit paused to take slow breaths to regain her composure, one paramedic entered with a glass of water and handed it to her.
She could feel Sam's concern when Sean left the room but he didn't leave her. For now, she needed his support.
After several swallows of water she continued. "Poor Sean," she whispered, then tried to continue, "He slapped me and .... " Brit swallowed convulsively and turned her face against Sam. If she could just burrow in and hide!
"Ms. Roberts, please describe your assailant? Distinguishing features?" Officer Smythe was business-like but kind.
"He's over six feet. Blond hair, icy blue eyes." Brit shuddered. "He is m-muscular, has a strong drawl."
"Had you ever seen him before, maybe hanging around here?"
"No, Officer, he did mention he'd changed my order for flowers and a takeout meal last night."
Officer Smythe looked puzzled. Had she explained about last night? She did well to remember what she had to tell him about what she had just experienced. Her eyes hurt with unshed tears. She took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, trying for calm.
"B-b-bastard has seen my tub, my robe, God knows w-what else."
* * * *
Sam broke into the questioning, his voice impatient. "Officers, I can tell you about the attacker's invasion of her privacy and telephone harassment and his obscene phone call last night."
Their puzzled expressions said they hadn't learned of last night's incident.
"We reported the incident then but she had no police protection from the bastard. I'll also tell you what I saw when I arrived, but this injured woman really must have medical attention!" He had to be reasonable but he seethed inside. Brit had called for help but none arrived.
Blood had dried on her lips where she'd been hit. Scrapes and fresh bruises marred her cheeks. Sam opened and closed his fists at his sides. The urge to slam his fists into something made his hands ache.
Sam turned to the woman paramedic.
The tall paramedic, who seemed to be in charge, turned toward the policemen and nodded. The other paramedic, who returned
with a white-faced Sean, signaled his partner.
The other man moved toward Brit on the gurney.
Sam waved the man away. He placed his arms under her arms and knees, ignoring the gurney and the hands extended to help. Sam carried his precious bundle from the room down to the ambulance.
Sam put Brit on the gurney in the ambulance before turning to look out the door. Sean looked up at his dad with a timid smile. "I can drive your truck to the hospital. You should ride with Ms. Roberts. She probably needs a familiar face and a hand to hold."
Sam pitched his keys to his son. "Damn, that's one great kid," Sam said to the young EMT cleaning the blood from Brit's lip. He turned to the woman who would need someone she knew to hold her and let her cry or even give in to hysteria, if she needed to.
* * * *
Well, shit! Douglas Drake never failed. Shit! Shit! Shit! He'd had his hands on the damned teacher. He'd been hard, ready to stick it to her.
This time had been different. Something had taken control of the calm, cool killer. He'd become the rapist he'd planned to make people think was responsible. He'd enjoyed the attack too much to kill her quickly. He had taken too long and been caught before he finished his job. He'd been seen with little to disguise him. Fortunately, there would be no mug shots and no way to match his prints, if there were any.
Damn! It would've been over if the man and the boy hadn't shown-up. The days of watching the woman had gone to waste.
He'd set the scene so carefully with the food and the flowers last night. The teacher had been scared, the way he liked his victims. He liked the taste and scent of fear. Just listening to her reaction to the hang-up calls was enough to get him hot. With the hearing devices he'd planted in her house, he'd listened to her report to the police last night. He'd scared her good when he'd let her know he'd been inside her house.
In the weeks he watched the woman, he'd never seen the man with her. Who the Hell is he? There had been the kid, too. Now I'll have to wait 'til things die down to get at her again.
Protective Instincts Page 4
