How could a best friend not notice how excited Julie was about the prospect of a date with a man who seemed to respect her, unlike Julie's last boyfriend who'd cheated on her? Saturday morning Julie was out by ten o'clock, in Jesse's shining, red Porsche, headed for a secret destination. Brit could putter around in her house alone.
The phone rang. She had forgotten about the hang up calls. The long silence reminded her. "Look, you, if you need help finding out which number you need, look it up, or write it down. How hard can it be to dial a phone number correctly?" The caller seemed to stay on the line longer than usual. "You could at least apologize." She slammed the receiver when the dial tone sounded in her ear. "Jerk!"
She recorded the number on her caller ID, probably another payphone like the last two.
CHAPTER SIX
It had been two weeks since Brit's life had been turned upside down. Some nights she still woke up in a cold sweat. She could almost smell the ludicrous flower arrangement and feel the choking sensation she'd experienced when she'd learned someone had been in her house.
Julie had awakened her at least once each night when her attacker had invaded her dreams. Thank God Julie had offered to spend her nights with Brit until she felt safer alone.
Monster's barking reminded her he'd been outside long enough. In the past two weeks, Sam and Monster had become part of her everyday life. The man invaded her daydreams, and dominated her thoughts, and confused her with memories she couldn't be sure were real. The endearments and promises must've been her imagination.
Brit was rubbing Monster's tummy when the ringing telephone broke into her reverie. Now who?
"Hello."
"This is Sean, could you use some help working on your Mustang? I can change the oil and Bondo rust spots."
"Sean, how thoughtful." Relieved, Brit wound the cord around her finger. "Rust spots on my car? They're all that's holding it together." She laughed, then paused. "Did your father put you up to this? He has taken over as my guardian angel."
"Uh, no, ma'am. Uh, Angie and I wanted to know if we could come to your house to work on our project. We can't work at her house 'cause her parents won't be there for the afternoon. They don't want her at home alone after ... you know .... They don't want us alone. Oh, I didn't think to ask if you had plans."
"No, I don't have plans. Come on. Any time after two will be fine," Brit assured him. "Oh, and Sean, I have oil and filters."
At two o'clock Brit opened the door to Sean standing on the porch, balancing a stack of library books and a box of note cards. She opened the door wide, after unlatching the chain, then showed Sean to the living room to put his load on a coffee table.
"You don't need the chain lock if you use the security code."
Brit hadn't set the alarm. She'd put on the chain as soon as Julie left the house earlier. She had to get into the habit of punching in the code and peeping through the hole in the door and being suspicious.
"Angela's mom'll drop her off here around four."
"I'll show you where I keep the oil and filters."
Three thirty found Sean under the Mustang checking for oil leaks and Brit sanding rust spots. It took a lot of elbow grease, but was good therapy for her tension. The area she sanded sometimes became the face of her attacker. She had to work to avoid rubbing too hard.
A deep voice startled Brit as she looked up into emerald eyes almost close enough to touch. She could swear she felt the warm breath of the man in question. His lips were within kissing distance. She could smell his clean, manly scent, mingled with Old Spice.
Sean scooted from under the car. "Hi, Dad. Angie's coming over to work on our English project."
"I thought you two would be at the library or at her house." Sam did not look pleased to see she had company.
"Her folks didn't want us working alone at her house and the library's too quiet for us to discuss things while we work."
Sam would have no privacy with Brit. After Angela arrived, she and Sean worked in the living room. Brit seemed as jumpy as a cat on a stove burner. They talked about her therapy sessions and her self-defense classes. They talked about Sam's call to his brother, the cop in Atlanta. They discussed the local police detectives' theory that her attacker had given up and fled the area.
"Drew says your attacker is probably lying low 'til things cool off. You'll need to be careful. Obsessed psycho types don't give up easily." Sam wanted to hold her close and tell her everything would be fine. She probably wouldn't let him.
Having the kids come in to share apple pie didn't help Sam's need to get closer to Teach.
"I have apple pie and whipped cream, or ice cream."
Watching Teach eat reminded Sam about the erotic dreams he'd had. Brit played a starring role and he'd made love to every inch of her. Every time she put a bite into her mouth, he wanted to share it. Every time the spoon passed between her lips, he wanted to taste them.
When Sean and Angela left to study, Brit cleared the table.
"I'll help you do that later, Teach. Come keep me company," Sam froze as he was about to toss scraps into the garbage can. He seethed as he removed a bouquet of dead weeds. They definitely didn't look like flowers. She hadn't mentioned them at all. "These come with a card?" he waved the offending bouquet.
"Probably just a student who needed a better grade but lost the card." She shrugged. "They were probably pretty before they stayed on my porch overnight."
"Probably." Sam didn't sound convinced. Not every little thing could be traced to the attack, Brit thought. He pinned her with his gaze. "We need to talk about --"
"Just let me clear these things," she interrupted. "I hate to leave a messy kitchen, and it won't take long." She was not ready to approach the subject of what had passed since the night of her attack or the times she'd awakened to find him on her bed, or the sweet words she thought she remembered hearing him say.
Brit stood at her sink with her hands in the dishwater and her back to Sam. The hairs on the back of Brit's neck stood on end just in time to warn her Sam was close. She sensed his silent movement across the room before warm hands touched her shoulders to caress and massage the tight muscles. His voice, deep and husky, slipped beneath her skin like liquid, hot liquid.
"Relax, Teach. Let me help you get rid of your tension. Old Sam's hands will work their magic," Sam murmured in her ear, his hot breath causing her to shiver.
"Now, Sam, there's no need. I'm fine, really," Brit shivered like a leaf trembling in a gentle breeze. Heat and cold attacked her body as his hands moved to her neck, using his thumbs to fill the hollow at the base of her skull.
Sam's magic hands moved back to her shoulders before traveling down her arms and up again. The relaxed state she had reached kept her body immobile and vulnerable. His warm, strong hands moved from shoulders to collarbone. The calluses abraded sensuously.
Brit wanted to tell him to stop. The kids were only doors away and could come in. I'll make him stop in just a minute.
She stared at the ceiling and her knees turned to water. Leaning her head against the wall of his chest, she inhaled Sam's familiar scent. His mouth at her ear whispered endearments she could barely hear or understand for the breathiness of his voice.
Sam knew he should stop before he went too far, but her hot, soft skin felt too good beneath his fingers. The pressure he felt building in his crotch had begun to control his brain. He'd heard about men thinking with their dicks, but had not thought to be one.
He put his arms around her and just held her close. A shred of sanity kept him from turning her in his arms where she would feel all of his arousal. She responded to his gentle touch, but she had almost been raped and he couldn't rush her.
Sam buried his face in her hair. The faint scent of wild flowers enticed him. He moved to her shoulder and nipped through the fabric of her shirt. God, he wanted her! "I have to go," he whispered harshly. His throat ached. Something else ached more. "If I don't leave soon I might disgrace myself." He laughed r
uefully. "How could we explain this to the children? I'll be back later, I promise."
Sam let himself out the back door quietly.
Brit tried to compose herself. Her breathing slowed to almost normal, but she feared she would never be normal again. The memories of her attack would fade with time and therapy. Not so, with the way Sam made her feel alive and feminine. Could she ever enjoy what he could give her?
Washing her face with a damp cloth in the bathroom helped cool the fever lingering after Sam left. A fresh ponytail and a bit of lipstick made her presentable on the outside, though she was still a mess on the inside. How far would she have let him go before fear made her stop him? Could she have made love to Sam? Should she make love with him? Stupid question.
When she tried to make love with him, would he be disappointed? It had been so long since a man other than Tommy had held her, since she had loved a man. She wasn't into casual sex but she definitely wasn't ready for love. Would she risk loving and losing again? Did she deserve another love after she hadn't taken care of her first? She'd been greedy for a child and maybe expected too much of Tommy.
* * * *
The hot water beating down on Brit's arched neck felt like heaven. Sean and Angela had left a couple of hours ago. The house was quiet and almost everyone had checked to be sure Brit was all right. When Julie called to say she might be out later than planned, Brit had told her to stay out as late as she wanted. She had taken the phone off the hook so she wouldn't be disturbed by any more wrong number calls. She needed to stop stalling and get her number changed. Maybe she'd tattoo it on her hand. She had to have it unlisted or changing would do no good. So many people would have to be called if she decided to go that route.
Strangely, Brit hadn't felt afraid to be alone. She had left Monster in the kitchen, nibbling his supper. The big dog was such a dainty eater. She had her guard dog and she had locked all locks and set codes. The group sessions and self-defense classes made her feel stronger, more empowered.
Now, in the shower, she let her mind go blank. As she raised her arms to shampoo, her hair the shower spray beat down on her breasts. She rinsed her hair, trying to erase the erotic feelings slipping into her mind. She imagined Sam's strong hands, gentle, and callused, roaming over her heated skin. Her nipples ached to be caressed. She ached to be loved. Time to get out. She'd steamed her brain.
As Brit cut the water taps off she thought she felt cool air move the still closed shower curtain. She paused for a second. Hearing no noise, she squeezed excess water from her hair. She reached for the curtain, only to have it pushed toward her. Wrapped in the wet curtain, she was yanked from the shower.
She tried to scream, as the attacker dragged her, dripping wet to the bedroom. Her heart raced. She kicked and twisted, trying to escape. Strong arms and the element of surprise overpowered her.
"Shut up, bitch, stop fighting!" a raspy voice snarled. "It's going to hurt more if I beat you up before I do it to you. That pretty hero and his scrawny kid aren't here to save you, so you might as well relax and enjoy it. Some women get off on it. Oh, and don't worry about your dog. I took care of him. Great watchdog he was."
The hateful voice that had been in her worst nightmares in the middle of the night was in the room with her. She was awake, wide-awake! Her heart stopped for a second, paralyzing her. When it started back she struggled to get away, hampered by the curtain. A blow to her head slowed her frantic movements, allowing the man to fling her to the bed, plastic curtain and all. He yanked the curtain from her body, leaving her wet and cold atop her covers. She rolled to the side nearest the door to flee, only to trip on something on the floor.
"Damn, you're a stubborn one. The more fight, the more fun." His laugh froze her blood in her veins. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her. She landed hard against his body, knocking the breath from her lungs. He grabbed both wrists pushing them together. Wrapping a cord around her wrists, he pulled her back to the bed and threw her onto it. "Stay the Hell where I put you or I'll slap you around some more."
The southern accent had disappeared. Brit couldn't believe this was happening again. She had to save herself. She wouldn't be a victim again. There had to be a way to get away. She shuddered at the ranting of her attacker. His faded bluish eyes were cold and cruel, his expression hard to read because his pale brows were difficult to see without her glasses.
"I'll squeeze those white tits till you beg me for it." He squeezed hard. "I'll touch you all over, then I'll give it to you good," he threatened. "Do like I say, I won't hurt you too bad."
Brit frantically watched his every move to catch any chance at escape. I am not going to take this lying down. Funny. What a time for her sense of humor. The rasp of a zipper brought her to full attention.
Gathering more strength than she realized she had, Brit used the hand she had worked free to slam, palm upward, into his nose as she kicked at his groin area. She rolled from the bed. He was between her and the way out.
The attacker swiped out with one hand as his other one held his injured nose. "Shit!" Blood seeped through his fingers, as he turned toward the door to chase her.
"Brit, Brit, honey! Where are you?" Sam's voice sounded frantic. "Where the Hell are your watchdog cops?"
"In here, Sam," she yelled.
"Bitch, you stupid bitch. You broke my Goddamned nose. I'll kill you and your boyfriend." Obviously blinded by the pain, her attacker moved just enough to clear her way to the door.
Brit flew to the door. Escape. She grabbed the knob and pushed it open. A broom stood beside the door. She grabbed it and slammed it into her attacker. Brit flew past Sam in her dark hall, as she fled.
Sam's anger nearly blinded him. "Where is he? I'll kill that bastard when I get my hands on him. We don't need to wait for the cops. I'll kill him with my bare hands."
His gun in his hand, he tripped over something large. A man with his pants down around his knees and briefs covering his genitals.
"Sam?" Brit's voice quivered. "Sam, what do you see?"
"Scum, that's what I see, and I'd like to erase it from the earth. I could kill him before he wakes and get it over."
"Sam." Brit looked around Sam and saw the body on her bedroom floor. "While you stare at him and plan his demise, I can tie him up so he can't get away." Brit stalked past Sam. She came up short when his arm snaked out to yank her back.
"You don't think I would let you near that SOB, do you?" Sam asked. The naked woman had dignity. "I'll tie him up. Stay put."
"Monster? Sam, he said he took care of my dog."
"Asleep. I nearly tripped over the dog when I came in the back door. He was drugged but breathing normally. Call the police and see what's keeping them," Sam added. "Then we'll check on the puppy." Taking his attention from her wasn't easy, but he couldn't have that bastard come to. "And put something on, Teach."
Wrapped in a tablecloth she'd grabbed from the table as she passed it, she stopped the charge of uniformed police officers. Two came from her kitchen and two from the front door they'd crashed.
"Brit, have you called to find out where those idiots are? I called them on my car phone when I didn't see any surveillance vehicle. My gut still aches. I knew something was wrong before I reached your block. Where the Hell are they, anyway?"
"No need to call," Brit answered. "They're here."
Turning to let them pass, she pointed down the hall. "That way." Shock numbed her. She sat down in the large blue chair by the matching sofa. She tucked her bare feet under her and waited. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. You can do this. Stay calm a little longer.
Two male officers shoved the trussed man through the hall and out her front door, as they read him his rights. Brit noticed that someone had pulled his pants up. Nothing like getting caught with your pants down. They should've left 'em down. Let him try walking with his pants around his ankles. Would serve him right. Something else caught her attention. He looked different. His hair was short instead of longish. Had
he worn a wig to attack her?
The other two came back to her living room where Brit and Sam waited. "We have to ask you some questions."
Brit heard the words, barely registering the speaker. "Sure, might as well get it over." Adrenaline still pumped through her veins. That would end and she'd crash, or lose it, before long.
Another pair of plainclothes detectives appeared carrying cameras and a brief case. "He attacked the lady in her bedroom." Sam volunteered. "The backdoor lock was broken and the alarm disabled."
"Thanks." One detective headed toward the bedroom.
"Who's he?" The other new detective inclined his head toward Sam.
"Mr. Samuels is her friend, he helped capture the perp."
"Check the bathroom, too." Brit's voice quavered.
"What?" the man with the camera stopped. "Ma'am"
"Oh, yes," She thought a second. Her mind wanted to blank out. "Look in the bathroom, he was there, he found me in the shower."
One of the policemen with Sam and Brit opened his well-worn notebook and perched on the sofa arm nearest Brit's, to question her. He was disheveled and she wouldn't have been surprised to see him lick a pencil, like television's Columbo.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," he began as he opened his notebook and pulled a pen, not a pencil stub, from his pocket. The pen had no cap and she would bet there would be an ink spot on his pocket. "We had a robbery reported several blocks from here and had to pull the car we had parked across the street to answer it. The caller reported shots. We moved quickly and in force."
The policewoman entered the room, carrying a plastic, zippered bag of evidence, an opened knife showed through. Brit had been so frightened she had missed the knife. Sam followed the cop.
"Did you get the break-in person?" Brit needed to know.
"Uh, no. We woke up the occupant instead. He wasn't being robbed at all. Someone called in a phony report."
"It figures. I don't believe you left this woman unwatched, after what happened at school. Her family and friends have tried to make sure she had moral support, but we believed she had your protection in case that piece of trash showed up."
Protective Instincts Page 9
