Protective Instincts

by Mary Marvella

  "You said you and Angela are working on your project already?"

  "Yes, ma'am. We're writing a parody of Hamlet."

  "Excellent." Brit nodded.

  "We'll make it modern, or in America during the Civil War."

  "If you do that, you may be able to use the research for a history project, too, on the War of Northern Aggression."

  Conversation continued through dessert. When Sam gave up on the idea of having Brit to himself, he and Sean headed home.

  * * * *

  Douglas Drake sat in his room at a cheap, no-tell motel, lying low. As a rule, he didn't drink on the job. He crunched a beer can, then tossed it at the trashcan. Two points. Hell, most jobs didn't take this damned long. His cooler was only half-full. Popping the top of another cold one, he settled back against the wall at the head of the bed. Damned pillows weren't worth shit. Even three didn't cushion his back. The picture on the TV had ghosts and snow. There was no cable and the pay for movies box didn't work. He took a long swig of imported beer. Probably imported from Alabama. At least his small cooler kept the beer cold.

  Not one single television news report or paper had even mentioned an attack on a teacher in her classroom. Had no one reported it? Did he want someone to report it? An anonymous call could send someone to the police station to check out reports.

  He didn't think anyone knew who he was or where he lived, but he couldn't take the chance of going home. He'd thought the teacher's company would be around all night. There weren't a lot of places a man could hide to watch a house being watched by security folks. He'd spotted them way too easily.

  Another long draw emptied the can. Don't put much in these damned things. Like everything else worth having, the crooks shortchange a person, put in less and charge more. This job should've been easy. They'd removed his bugs from her house. Damn! Can't re-bug the place 'til Monday, if the teacher leaves the house to go to school. The security boyfriend made things difficult, but I'm a professional, a pro-fes-sion-al. I'll get back inside.

  He was being paid to kill one bothersome woman whose inquiries were making his employers antsy. Their source in the police station reported she wouldn't let the matter of her husband's accidental death rest.

  Now the teacher's got a damned dog, too.

  He popped another tab, well on his way to getting stinking drunk. What else was there to do? He'd rather spend time with the teacher's blonde friend. She'd been nice to him when they'd run across each other in the grocery store. What would she say if she knew he planned to kill her friend? He couldn't afford to get close to anyone, even for a prime piece of tail.

  * * * *

  It was only eight-thirty on a Friday and Sam was exhausted. He slept long and hard, dreaming about the lady who was the opposite of the women he usually chose.

  She wasn't tall and slim or blonde like Adrienne had been. She wasn't sleek, or sophisticated like most women he'd dated. She was vulnerable and almost innocent, as Adrienne had been when they'd fallen in love so long ago. She seemed unaware of her natural beauty. Though she used makeup, he'd seen her with none.

  She was the most trusting person he'd ever met. Who else would have assumed the phone calls were student pranks? Well, he remembered pulling his share of harmless pranks in his youth. Teach was just the right mix of innocence and mischief.

  Maybe he was just attracted to that innocence, to her need for his protection. Maybe the attraction would ease when she was no longer in danger. Brit and Adrienne were both career women, but he'd bet Brit would never give up family life for a job. She was older than Adrienne had been when she'd become a mother. It was his fault they'd married before she'd graduated from college, pregnant.

  What if he and Adrienne had been able to wait 'til after they'd married to start a family? Would they have stayed together? Would they have married at all? He wouldn't trade anything for Sean.

  In his fantasies, Brit was confident, alluring, and sexy as Hell. Her lips tasted of passion and need. They drove him to the edge of need, then pushed him over. He ached every place her body touched his, everywhere. He woke hot and aching, as he hadn't in more than fifteen years. Maybe his years of abstinence, since he'd decided to save sex for serious relationships, was responsible for his horny condition.

  * * * *

  Brit felt so much better by Sunday, she called her dad to take mama home. Julie spent the night at Brit's to keep her company. Brit was thankful her friend wasn't leaving her on her own just yet. There was little chance of that, with Sam calling every few hours to check on her. If Julie hadn't stayed, Sam would have or he'd have offered.

  All things considered, it hadn't been such a bad day, but Brit was tired and ready for her mother to stop fussing over her. Julie helped, but she didn't hover.

  Julie had made her smile with talk about a shy guy she'd talked to in the grocery store.

  "Tell me about him," Brit asked, as if Julie wouldn't if she had found him interesting.

  "Oh, he isn't really my type, but he was kinda cute. You know, short blond hair, blue eyes. I've seen him a couple of times. Usually he just nods at me. Today he asked questions about keeping lunchmeats and deli food fresh. Like he was looking for something to say."

  "Where does he live?"

  "I didn't ask. I think he's new in town. After all his questions, he bought beer and chips and crackers."

  "Not your type, huh?"

  * * * *

  Monday morning, Brit had to make herself get out of her Mustang in the parking lot at school. Though she and Julie had driven separate cars, they'd parked side-by-side. Together they started toward the doors into the building. Putting one foot in front of the other took every ounce of courage Brit could muster.

  Friendly faces greeted her, but she barely registered their identities. The walk to her classroom seemed to take an eternity. Once inside the room she choked up, amazed by the colorful posters on the walls. Someone had gone through a lot of trouble to change the room, had even rearranged the desks.

  Her own desk stood as a reminder of what had happened to her there. Her breath caught in her throat. Again, she felt the hard wooden edge digging into her back as she'd been pushed against it. She was once again prone on it, frightened. She couldn't breathe.

  "Mrs. Roberts, Mrs. Roberts?" She whirled around to see several students and the custodian standing just inside the door. Breathe slowly. Deep cleansing breaths. He's not here. It's broad daylight and you're not in danger. You are not in danger.

  "Do you like the changes?" Sean asked. "We all worked on 'em."

  "I painted the walls Saturday and I'm trying to get you a new desk," Mr. James said. "Hope you don't mind."

  "I thank you, all of you," Brit forced the words out.

  A bell rang, bringing in hordes of laughing teenagers.

  Teaching will get me past the nightmares. Her hand was less than steady when she wrote on the chalkboards. The in-box for late assignments filled as students brought in make-up work. She needed to reschedule the conferences she'd missed Thursday and Friday. She'd stay busy.

  "Could we get a better substitute teacher next time?" someone asked.

  "Shush!" The warnings stopped the banter that would have seemed normal on any other day.

  She welcomed the sounds of discussion as groups circled desks to read their essays from the weekend's homework. She seldom had to settle arguments about grammatical errors, punctuation rules, or form. Hearing her students so passionate about their work grabbed her teacher's heart. A few times she saw an error about to be accepted by the group as a whole. Those groups she had to guide a little.

  At the end of each class, she reminded everyone she expected to have all project final drafts on Tuesday.

  People stopped by to wave or to walk with Brit at breaks and on the way to lunch. No one mentioned the attack, thank God. At odd moments during the day, she thought she sensed Sam watching her from outside her door, but she refused to look.

  At other times, the air she breathed hurt
her lungs. Her head felt ready to explode. Nausea grabbed her stomach. The feeling of menace would pass.

  During her planning period, someone happened to bring cookies to share. They tasted like dust but she ate them and smiled.

  After school Sean and Angela brought notes on the project they were doing for her class. The two blonde heads were close an awful lot. They worked in a corner and asked her a few questions to make it seem less obvious they were baby-sitting her. Having company was good.

  The room became too quiet. Brit tried to grade papers. She could hear the ticking of the large clock over her desk. She sat at a student desk to grade papers. Not once had she sat at her own desk. She couldn't!

  A car backfired nearby and she barely suppressed a scream. She needed to go to the restroom but couldn't face the deserted halls alone. Her hands shook as she stuffed rubber-banded stacks of papers into her tote bag. Suddenly she had to get out of this room, out of this building, now.

  "Time to go, Ms. Roberts." Mr. James stuck his head in the room. "I'd like to walk you to your car, if that's okay."

  It was. "Ready," was all she could make herself say.

  "We're going, too." Sean and Angela stood quickly. Sean was barely taller than Angela, but she looked so dainty beside him. "Thanks for the help." They left just ahead of their teacher.

  Her Mustang looked so alone in the parking lot. Mr. James waited until she was inside with the doors locked, then waved her on. "Home, baby, let's go home."

  Sean drove Angela home, by way of Brit's. He didn't even pretend he wasn't following her.

  * * * *

  Douglas was not happy. He'd watched the teacher for so long he felt he knew when she farted. His listening equipment wasn't great, but he knew an awful lot about her habits. Planting listening devices in her schoolroom, the teachers' lounge, and the ladies' room had been almost fun. He'd walked into the school dressed like a maintenance worker, and he'd done his work. Planting cameras would have pushed his luck. The gray beard and shaggy wig were a touch of genius. No one had even asked to see his forged paperwork.

  His mother had been wrong when she'd said he would never make anything of himself. He had enough money in the bank to keep the old lady in a good nursing home. Too bad, he had her in a cheap one. She'd cuffed him enough when she was spouting her scriptures about the wages of sin, though she'd spread her legs for the preacher. Bitch!

  The teacher had to die soon. She was turning into her driveway. There he had cameras. The one he'd mounted on a telephone pole gave him a good view into several windows. The security system and the big dog posed problems with getting inside but he'd just have to get around them. He'd never met a security system he couldn't by-pass with a little studying.

  * * * *

  Brit's footsteps echoed inside her house. The daylight reassured her. Her devoted guard dog greeted her at the front door with so much affection she ended up on the floor laughing and hugging him. For a short while, she forgot to be afraid. Maybe after she changed into jogging clothes she'd let Monster take her for a walk.

  Her house was the same but it wasn't. She must be paranoid. There was no way anyone could be in here. She still checked in closets and under beds.

  Around four thirty Brit snapped Monster's leash to his collar. Her doorbell rang. Monster strained toward the door.

  "Gotta look through the peephole." Monster seemed excited, like the ringer was someone he knew.

  "Just Sam." No wonder Monster acted excited.

  She opened the door. Sam's face lit with his sexy smile. His bedroom eyes threw her. He probably looked that way at all women. He'd certainly charmed her mother and Julie.

  "Gonna walk Monster?"

  "I think he's gonna walk me."

  Monster gave Sam a welcoming hand lick and nudge, then strained toward the sidewalk.

  "Mind if I walk with you?"

  "Ask Monster." Brit laughed when her guard pet pulled her down the sidewalk. "I don't think he'll mind. He likes you."

  Tempted as he was to follow Brit so he could watch her cute backside, Sam set his stride to bring him even with her. He took the leash handle she held in both hands. He still had a hand free to grasp one of hers. She didn't object. Holding her hand made him feel strong and humble at the same time.

  When Monster finally slowed to investigate flowers Sam faced Brit. "So, how did it go today?"

  "Okay. I did all right, mostly."

  "I'm glad. I stopped by the school a couple of times. I kept getting funny feelings, like something wasn't right."

  "Oh?"

  "Not as strong as before. I …. "

  Sam touched the yellowing bruise on her cheek. He felt her wince beneath his fingers. "Does it still hurt?"

  "Not so much now."

  Conversation halted when Monster tugged at his leash, ready to walk Sam and Brit again.

  She looked good, relaxed. Maybe his being there helped.

  They had to persuade Monster to head back home. Sam had worked up a sweat and he could hear Brit's raspy, open-mouthed breathing.

  "Julie will be home soon. Would you like to come in for a while? I have some of Mama's cookies left."

  "Sure, Teach, love to."

  Once they were inside, Monster headed for his water. Sam had worked up an appetite. He settled for cookies and coffee.

  Just as he and Brit sat down to a cup of coffee, Julie breezed in with news of a therapy group she wanted Brit to check out. That discussion occupied the women so much that Sam had no more private time with Brit. Modern men discussed relationships and feelings with women. He wanted to be a modern man and let her know how much he cared for her. He wanted to give her a chance to tell him what she felt. But it wouldn't happen tonight. He checked his watch. Time to head home.

  "Teach, Julie, gotta go. Sean's fixing supper and he hates for the sandwiches to get cold."

  "Aw, Sam, I'll bet Sean is a good cook." Brit laughed.

  "Yeah, he makes great sandwiches." Sam placed a light kiss on her soft cheek.

  "My turn, hero." Julie stood on her tiptoes and gave him a sweet friendly kiss.

  "You ladies be careful." He opened the front door and walked out.

  Only after he heard the click of the lock did he leave the porch. Something about the attack and the phone calls hovered at the back of his mind as he drove home. He couldn't put his finger on it. He'd call Drew. Having an Atlanta undercover cop for a brother had advantages.

  * * * *

  Julie spent the night there, as planned. Their time grading papers and watching sit-coms together seemed deceptively casual, like it was a normal thing, like it was just one more pajama party.

  "Julie," Brit looked around the room, shivering, "am I being paranoid to feel like someone is watching me?"

  "I think it's natural after what happened to you."

  "I can't shake the feeling that someone sees too much. I'm almost afraid to go to the bathroom alone." Brit banded a set of graded papers and put them into her tote, her hands unsteady.

  Julie's fingers stopped tapping the keys on her calculator.

  "I know what you mean. That's something you should mention at the group therapy session. Maybe talking to other victims can help you get over that concern. I think it's just a normal reaction."

  Julie's room across from Brit's had its own bathroom. Both bedroom doors stayed open. When the women went to bed, Monster slept on a quilt beside Brit's bed.

  It had taken forever for Brit to get to sleep. Now she tossed and twisted to escape the huge hands mauling her. A rough hand covered her mouth. The hand grabbing her between her thighs hurt.

  "Not again!" She tried to scream. She tried to bite the hand hurting her mouth. She twisted from hands grabbing her.

  "You want it," the gruff voice growled. "You all want it!"

  "No!" She clutched desperately at the cruel hands, scratching, trying to bite them.

  Brit heard Julie's voice. "It's just a nightmare, Brit. It's just a nightmare. You're safe." Julie patted
Brit's back, crooning words of comfort as her sobbing finally slowed. "No one's gonna hurt you. Sam and I won't let anyone hurt you."

  Sweet Monster licked her hand.

  * * * *

  Sitting in his hotel room alone, Douglas rubbed his crotch. Two half-naked broads in bed together. He'd enjoyed the fear causing the nightmare for his target. He could terrify her without even being there. He planned to terrify her more when he got her alone again.

  The blonde, Julie, had a body that made a man ache. Her breasts were large and her waist small. She'd be so hot. Such a sweet ache. Too bad, there wouldn't be a real show. Hell, he could've sold the tapes if the teachers hadn't been straight.

  So the math teacher thought he wasn't her type, huh. He hadn't meant to be noticed. He'd learned a lot though. Maybe when his job was over he'd dress like his real self, put on some attitude, and give her another chance. Or maybe not.

  Shit. A man with his looks and money shouldn't have to jack off in a cheap hotel alone. He couldn't risk having a woman recognize him later. Maybe he could wear a disguise? Nah, he didn't screw around during a job, unless it was part of the job. He'd had his heart, such as it was, set on raping this woman and killing her.

  Too many beers and too much hiding time made him crazy. His stupid employers hadn't been pleased when he reported he hadn't killed the woman yet. They were in trouble neither their hired cop nor their mouthpiece could fix. Their attempts to expand outside of their little town had brought them to the notice of the big boys. Organized crime in Atlanta could buy better cops and bigger trouble.

  The teacher kept asking too many questions about her lawyer husband's accidental death. His employers' dirty cop had threatened to off Douglas and then her. Like that dope could kill him.

  The teacher's husband had been the best at lawyering but hadn't been for sale. The lawyers these small town crooks hired now could be bought but weren't so good. This would be his last job. He'd take his money and go where the weather stayed warm and the women wore little clothing and were willing to accommodate a man with money.

  The problem was that Douglas had taken money for a job he hadn't done. Now it wasn't just the money. His pride demanded he finish the job. He wouldn't go out as a failure.