Protective Instincts

by Mary Marvella

Agent Peters cleared his throat. "A day or two later, we'll move your Mustang to a storage place. That should convince anyone watching that you aren't coming back."

  "Oh," Brit sighed. "It feels so strange. I'll be there, but I won't be there. And I can't take Monster home with me."

  Sam walked over to the sofa and sat beside her. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Esther will be there during the day and I'll be there, too, at night. I'll take care of you, Teach. Mama will take care of the monster baby."

  "I know. What about some food? This undercover work makes a body hungry," Brit announced.

  * * * *

  Three hours later, pizza boxes lay stacked up on a table beside the door of the bridal suite. Detective Peters and Drew viewed surveillance film on a computer monitor. Occasionally Brit would hear one of the men call excitedly to the other and she'd rush to see what was so important. So far, she had seen nothing that told her anything. She wished Sam and Esther would get back with the much needed ice cream. Nothing like a powwow of detectives and security people to put a downer on a girl's mood.

  Earlier she had muttered to Sam, "Isn't it a little crowded for a bridal suite?"

  "Yeah, I hadn't expected everyone to move in with us." Sam put his arms around her. For seconds she forgot about their company.

  "Maybe we need to book our own little love nest."

  Even thirty minutes later, she felt the delicious tingle in her lower belly. Closing her eyes, she blotted out the others in the room, pretending Sam still held her. She drifted into a dream world. She needed the warmth Sam's body always gave her. The detectives in the room could protect her.

  Drew's excited voice broke through her semiconscious state.

  "Come look at this, I think I've made our man."

  Wide-awake, she crossed the room in a flash.

  Drew pointed to a blow-up of a scene on his monitor. The shabbily dressed figure beside the pointer stepped from the old van. With his shaggy beard, he looked more like a homeless person than a repairman. The company name on the van had faded.

  Brit watched the man shuffle toward the mailbox. Why would he be interested in her neighbor's mail? "Drew," Brit touched the TV monitor with a fingernail, "my neighbors are out of town for this whole month. Their mail is being held at the post office."

  "Look," Drew nearly toppled his chair. "He's taking out a box. Bet he has his own surveillance equipment in the box."

  Drew tried to zoom in on the box, but was outfoxed when the man turned his back on the camera.

  "Let's go nail the bastard," Brit started toward her boots. "What are we waiting for?"

  "Nail whom for what?" Sam entered, carrying a bag. Brit hadn't heard him come back in. She watched him put the large bag on the coffee table and calmly walk over to Drew and Detective Peters. "What bastard does the woman want to nail this time?"

  "Yeah?" Esther took the contents from the bag and spread them on the low table. She motioned for Brit to join her. "Whom are we nailing?"

  Calmed by their joking manner, Brit pointed to the men and explained. "Drew and Detective Peters think they spotted Drake watching my house. I was all ready to go for him."

  "What if he's really just someone taking advantage of an empty house, maybe a homeless person? That man doesn't look any more like your attacker did, than we look like ourselves. What if that box is something illegal and we mess up a police bust?"

  Detective Peters muttered. "These local cops wouldn't need help messing up a bust." He had come to the coffee table to join Brit and Esther. He reached for an ice cream carton and read the label. "Rocky Road, my favorite."

  "Here." Esther handed him a plastic bowl and a large spoon. "Go for it, Pete."

  Sam and Drew joined the ice cream crowd. "Here." Sam handed Brit a stack of paper. "Prints of enlargements of some the images Drew found on the tapes." Sam reached for a bowl, but Brit handed him one full of chocolate chip ice cream. He grinned at her over the bowl as he took it. "What if I had wanted Rocky Road?"

  "I'll give you some of my Rocky Road," her voice was husky. "If you're a good boy."

  Sam gazed into her eyes, warming her. "We could eat it in the bedroom and leave this room to the others."

  "We could, at that."

  "Okay, knock it off, you two," Esther interrupted their exchange.

  "There are no children present, but young Pete's blushing up a storm. He'd never be able to concentrate, knowing what you're up to just a room away. Drew and I might enjoy watching through the keyhole. We haven't done that in years."

  "You've made your point, Sis," Sam frowned, then grinned. "Jealous, aren't you. You could never stand to be left out of the fun." He pulled Brit toward Esther and hugged her.

  "We'll find you a honey, won't we, Drew?"

  "I've tried." Drew mussed Esther's hair. "She just keeps running them off with her temper."

  "Knock it off, you two clowns." Esther growled. "I'm just waiting for the right one to come along."

  Drew joined the group hug. This crew reminded Brit of her family. What would her brothers think if they could be in this room with all the technology? They'd love it, but she'd be sent away. At least Sam knew better than to try.

  When she separated from the group hug, she saw Detective Peters move back to his chair at the computer terminal. He sipped his coffee like he was thinking between sips.

  "Let's eat so we can get back to work, since we can't play." Brit shoved Sam's bowl at him. "Bunch of party poopers."

  Legal pads filled with lists moved from one observer to the other. Everyone agreed the man in most of the frames didn't belong where he was. The truck didn't belong, either.

  The man had made several trips from the truck, one to the mailbox, one to a shed near the house, and one to a hedge by the street in front of the house. Brit had tried to recognize him when Peters would freeze a frame, but the disguise, if he wore one, was good. Even the enlarged photos weren't any better. He seemed to know just when to turn from a camera angle. He might not be Brit's attacker, but he was up to something.

  * * * *

  Douglas moved from the van to the hedge. He checked the electronic spying equipment. Gadgets and inventing had been hobbies of his since childhood. People had no idea how many gadgets he'd made. Even the guys who hired him thought he was just a killer. Time to leave another message for the teacher.

  Watching all around him, he drove the van past the cop car. It was time for the shift change. By the time he got back, the new jerks would be napping like the rest always did.

  He found a pay phone he hadn't used before. The booth faced a park and a gas station.

  Three rings, then her message, "Yeah, I know you're running away from me, bitch. I'll find you. I don't fail!" His voice rose. "I do not fail! When I find you, you'll pray for a quick death, but it won't happen!" he shouted. "Think of the worst nightmares you've ever had and they'll seem tame compared to what I'll do to you." He wiped the spittle from his lips.

  A man approached.

  He slammed down the receiver. "What the Hell do you want?" He pointed his gun at the man.

  The stranger took off quickly.

  Two calls to his contacts got him access to a computer with a modem. Did the teacher think he couldn't find her? He drove the van to a garage owned by a cousin. He left in an Explorer with tinted windows. It had taken thirty minutes to move his equipment to the new vehicle. The tag had been altered just enough to fool from a distance. He loved chop shop shopping.

  By the time he had spent an hour online at the owner's computer he had drawn a blank. He hadn't found the teacher's house listed for sale or a record of a sale.

  Time to get back to his watch. He needed to get back inside her house. He needed to find a way inside her neighbor's house, but every window and door was locked and the house was wired. He could give up his motel room if he could get inside.

  * * * *

  Brit ran as hard as she could, but he was gaining on her. She knew who he was, though she didn't recogni
ze his face.

  "Gonna get ya! Gonna get ya, bitch." She felt his hot breath on her neck as he closed the distance between them. Sam? Where was Sam? She needed him to chase the monster away like he always had. Hands clutched her shoulders, pulling her back.

  "Can't get away from me this time. They're dead. I killed them all! Now I'm gonna kill you!" Hands closed around her throat, choking her life away. Sam, dead? Oh, no! No! No!

  "Brit, wake up." Esther's voice broke through the haze of sleep. "It's just a dream, honey, just a dream."

  "Sam? Where's Sam?"

  "He and Drew have gone to watch the police watch the bad guy. They wanted to check out the local cops. They also wanted to see what should be done before we move back into your house."

  "Oh, are we alone here?" Brit rubbed sleep from her eyes.

  "Nah, Detective Peters is in the other room, reading a book that looks like a romance novel. Don't worry; my brothers will be back before you know it."

  "Thanks." Brit settled back on the bed. "You've been a great help. But I miss Julie … I didn't get a chance to tell her we were coming back. She doesn't know Drake is loose. I miss Monster." Brit couldn't stop rambling.

  "Monster's fine at my mother's house and Drew has kept your family posted on your safety. We'll call your friend, Julie, and let her know what's happening. Where should we contact her? The guys need to be sure no one's watching her."

  Brit wrote Julie's cell phone number on a slip of paper.

  "I've wanted to play cops and robbers since I graduated from college, but my family wouldn't hear of it. We all worry too much about Drew for me to get by with that."

  "What do you do?" Esther kept a straight face. "I'm a CPA, freelance."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sam hated leaving Esther and Brit at the hotel. Hours later, he sat in an old model, black, pickup truck around the corner from Brit's house. By two AM, Drew had slipped out from the passenger side three times already. Within minutes the truck door opened to let him back in. The interior light was disconnected for stealth. "So, what did you see, Drew?"

  Drew opened the thermos, poured a half-cup of coffee. "Cops are dozing and our man found a way inside the house where he's been hanging." He gulped the steaming brew and grimaced. "Strong enough to take the hair off your tongue. He broke the lock off the storage shed in backyard." Drew made a face when he gulped another swallow. "The van's gone. There's a Ford Explorer in the drive. I'll check the Explorer next."

  "What's he doing?" Sam rubbed his stubble-roughened chin. He skimmed his knuckles along his bottom lip. If he could have his way, he'd off the jerk and scare the crap out of the cops 'watching' Brit's house.

  He hated not being in touch with Brit and Esther, even for a short time, despite having their man within his sights. He held the infrared camera to his eye and watched the man he believed was an escaped criminal, sneak to the Explorer and slip inside. Every move he made looked so damned suspicious. Drew must've answered Sam's question, but Sam couldn't remember the answer.

  "Tomorrow we send a pair of yardmen over to water the neighbor's yard. We'll have them go over to Brit's and water hers, too. If we can wet down his surveillance equipment that should tick him off."

  Drew slipped out again. Within minutes, a police car pulled through the neighborhood. When it stopped beside the stakeout car, a uniformed officer exited and rapped on the window. A horn sounded and the door opened. The driver stood beside the uniform. Sam watched them argue. The driver showed his ID, then got back inside the car and left.

  Drew returned as silently as he always did. One minute he wasn't there and the next he was. "Now our man probably thinks he has the place all to himself."

  "Looks like you're right, brother." Sam chuckled. "There he goes, bold as brass."

  Sam and Drew watched the shabbily dressed man move across the yard where the Explorer was parked, nearing Brit's yard. Sam snapped a picture. The man stopped beside a tree and looked around. Sam snapped. The man crept toward Brit's house.

  "Smile, dirt bag, you're on candid camera," Drew muttered. Sam's beeper vibrated. He showed the digital message to Drew.

  "Reinforcements, we can go back to our headquarters and check out the computer videos from the house." Sam snapped one last frame, then handed the camera to Drew. He backed the truck from its sheltered place, to head away from Brit's house.

  * * * *

  By the time Brit heard Sam's key in the motel room lock, her clock read five o'clock. Sam looked exhausted. Unable to go to sleep, Brit and Esther had joined Detective Peters at the computer screen. Sam handed the digital camera to the detective, who loaded the information into the computer.

  Brit moved into Sam's arms. In his embrace she felt safe and cherished. Despite the audience, she nuzzled his neck, then kissed his cheek. His response was so gentle and warm she couldn't doubt his love. This was no time to explore the possibilities. When Sam rested his forehead against hers, she could feel his weariness.

  "Sit," she pushed him toward a large chair.

  He practically fell into its cushioned depths. Leaning over the chair back, she grasped his shoulders. Her hands worked his tired muscles. Her thumbs pressed circles against his taut skin. Within seconds she felt his shoulders relax. His head rested against the chair back. His eyes closed. His breathing slowed.

  "Let him rest, then we'll put him back to work," Drew leaned back in his chair.

  Brit hadn't mentioned her nightmare to the men and had warned Esther not to, either.

  "We need to step things up and start the move tomorrow. I'll send a truck to cart some of Brit's things away." Drew studied the images saved in the computer. Nothing said the man camped out across from Brit's house was the man they wanted. If Drake watched the whole scene, they didn't want to alert him.

  * * * *

  Making the most of her fake persona, Brit stood in the driveway watching a moving company truck loaded with her belongings. Sam, wearing his killing machine look, stood with her, watching the movers.

  "Isn't it sweet of the teacher lady to let us rent some of her things 'til she gets settled? I love her piano and the big old sofa. It's just like my mama's." She purred and rubbed against him. "My mama's sofa has some interesting uses." She tilted her face to Sam's. "Real interesting." She stretched up to whisper in his ear. "Is that guy across the street watching?"

  He nuzzled her neck, whispered against her hair. "Yep."

  "I'm gonna get him. I know he's the bastard who attacked me," she mouthed against Sam's lips.

  "I'll help. But we can't just walk up and ask him." She returned his kiss. Pulling away from the show, Brit swung her hips, strutting up the steps to the porch.

  "Coming?"

  Sam grabbed three suitcases from the Jeep and followed her onto the porch and inside.

  * * * *

  Douglas pretended to trim the hedge. He got a hard-on just watching the black haired woman. He hoped she didn't have a job 'cause he'd like to make a visit or two to her house while the warrior guy worked. Maybe she'd know where the teacher was or could find out. If she let 'em use her furniture, she'd likely keep in touch. Maybe they had her forwarding address.

  He'd peeked into the garage last night. The Mustang was still there. He had to remain calm or he'd get caught.

  What the Hell? A yard maintenance truck pulled to the curb. The man getting out of the passenger side looked big enough to tear the door off. He moved around to the back and pulled a tank with a hose attached.

  The other man got out of the driver's side. He was even larger than the first guy. Shit. They walked up the drive. Douglas shuffled past them on his way to the sidewalk. Ducking his head he mumbled, "Nobody home." He shrugged. "What ya doin' here? Ain't nobody here to pay you."

  "That's okay," the guy answered. "We already got paid to take care of the yard all month. Gonna spray grass seeds and weed killer. The owner wants his yard to look good when he gets home." Each man walked around the yard, spraying away. "What are you doing here
?" the other man asked.

  "Just keepin' an eye out," Douglas answered. "The owners said I could stay here if I keep an eye on the place."

  "You don't look like a house sitter." The larger man squinted at Douglas.

  Douglas wanted to waste the man for being too nosy. What business was it of his? He kept his voice humble. "I did some work for the lady of the house before they left and she offered me a place to sleep. Lost my house last month."

  "Lose your job?" the smaller of the two men asked.

  "And my family, too."

  "Gotta get to work," the taller one reminded his partner.

  Douglas watched for a minute, then walked back toward his Explorer. Maybe these guys wouldn't take long.

  The sprayers were getting too damned close to the camera and listening device in the hedge. Shit! Oh, shit! There goes the equipment. No! No!

  By the time they left the yard, Douglas was ready to bust a gut. The new broad was coming from her house. She was motioning for the men to come to her porch. They hurried right over. That was some short skirt.

  He couldn't hear enough to tell what they were saying. He'd probably have to replace everything. At least they hadn't messed up the stuff he'd planted in her yard last night.

  Each tipped his cap, then returned to the truck. They're leaving. No! The driver pulled the truck in to her driveway.

  The Jeep left, but the woman didn't. The moving truck closed up and left, but the yardmen sprayed everywhere Douglas had planted surveillance equipment. He'd like to stuff their equipment somewhere they wouldn't enjoy.

  Another car pulled up. Nice car.

  Could they possibly be spraying the equipment on purpose? Nah, too dumb looking. He approached the larger spray man. "So, why are you spraying both yards?"

  "The lady asked us to." He looked like he didn't want to be bothered. Tough!

  "We'da done it, anyway," the other man volunteered. "We always spray her yard. Didn't know the teacher was gone." He shrugged. "Nice lady, the teacher."

  "Yeah, I heard she was a nice person."

  The equipment had been loaded and the larger man held a clipboard and a pen. "This invoice says we sprayed this yard. Wanna sign?"