She Can Scream

by Melinda Leigh

  “OK, everybody. You all did great tonight. How about a round of applause for Mr. Holloway?”

  They clapped, and Luke smiled as he stripped off the sweaty protective gear. A sense of belonging, of contributing, put new energy into his step. He carried the equipment to his car and loaded it into the trunk. Chris and Haley jumped into the back.

  “Thanks, Luke.” Brooke stood next to his car, her attention on making sure all her girls were safely in their cars before she slid into the passenger seat. “I really appreciate you pinch-hitting for me.”

  “They were great.” Luke got behind the wheel. He reached across the console and touched her hand. “I’m glad I did it. You make a difference. I didn’t realize how much until I saw the class.”

  Brooke blushed. Heat flooded Luke’s face and bloomed in his chest.

  He wasn’t bullshitting. She gave each of those girls a chunk of her strength, and they gave her something back. He could feel it inside of him too, a charge to batteries long dead.

  But Brooke had panicked at the thought of cancelling class. Could she go on without it? The class and her obsession with crimes against women seemed to be more of a lifeline than a sideline, and her devotion cost her. There was no way she could hope to protect all these young women from harm. Assuming responsibility for their welfare was an enormous load for Brooke to carry.

  She’d suffer if anything happened to any of them.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Twilight settled over the trees.

  He slumped down in the driver’s seat and raised his binoculars to peer over the dashboard. At the other end of the street, Maddie’s house called to him. But a Westbury Police Department cruiser was parked at the curb, and three other vehicles occupied the driveway. He recognized both her parents’ cars. The third must belong to another visitor.

  How long would they stay?

  He shifted his view to examine the house. Maddie’s room was at the back on what was technically the second floor. But in a bi-level home, the first floor was partially underground. Maddie’s bedroom window was only ten feet above the backyard. He knew from earlier reconnaissance that a large deck spanned the rear of the house. If he stood on the wooden railing, he’d be able to see her. Another possibility was to circle around the back of the property and use his field glasses to get a glimpse inside.

  Was he that bold, and would darkness and some trees be enough cover?

  And could he snatch her from her home?

  Maddie was so close. He could practically feel her squirming body bucking under his again. He glanced at the ketamine on the seat beside him. Imagine how terrified she’d be if she woke up in his trunk? Or on his worktable?

  His attention turned back to the house. He’d need to watch closely. To plan her abduction with greater detail than he’d ever constructed before.

  Was he up to the challenge?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  A creak sounded outside. Maddie startled. She lifted her aching head from the pillow and stared at the window, eyes open wide enough to burn. A branch scraped against the glass.

  Just the wind.

  She eased her head back down and closed her eyes. Too quiet. Her hand sought the TV remote. She flipped through stations. News. No. Melodrama. Double no. God knew she’d had enough drama. She needed something distracting and relatively mindless. Ah, a rerun of Project Runway. Perfect.

  Someone knocked softly on the door.

  “Come in,” Maddie said.

  The door opened and her mom came in, a glass of water in one hand, a small white bottle in the other,

  “Everything all right, honey?” Mom sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped, and the pain in Maddie’s head amplified.

  “Yeah.” Maddie struggled to a sitting position.

  “How’s your head?”

  “Hurts.”

  “You can take more ibuprofen now. Maybe that will help.”

  Oh, yeah. It had definitely worn off. Maddie took a few pills and swallowed them with water. Mom fluffed up the pillows so she could sit up.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “No.” Maddie lay back. “Soon as these kick in, I’ll be fine.”

  “Eat the crackers. It’s not good to take medicine on an empty stomach.” Her mom glanced at the window. The view of the wooded backyard had turned black and reflected their images. With a puzzled frown, Mom crossed the room, checked the window locks—again—and yanked the curtains closed with a determined snap.

  Maddie’s phone buzzed next to her head. She looked at the screen. Tyler. He’d been messaging her nonstop since Monday night. The smile hurt her bruised face, but she couldn’t hold it back. She put a finger to a scab on her lip. Mom had offered to cover the mirrors, but Maddie was all right with seeing the damage to her face.

  This was the first time in her life that she simply appreciated being alive.

  Besides, it looked bad now, all swollen and angry red, but the doctors assured her the bruises should heal completely. They’d called in a plastic surgeon to stitch the cut on her cheek to minimize the chances of scarring. It was unlikely to leave more than a small mark.

  Physically, Maddie would be all right.

  But how would she heal on the inside? Two days after her attack, she knew the terror wasn’t going to fade like her bruises.

  He was still out there.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come downstairs with me and your dad? We could rent a movie.” Mom’s smile was too bright, her voice too sunny, to be real. She was as terrified as Maddie.

  “I was down there all day, Mom. I really need to be alone for a little while.”

  “Of course. I understand. Call me if you need anything.” Her mom backed out of the room, hesitant to leave Maddie’s side.

  Maddie picked up her phone and texted Tyler back. He wanted to visit her tomorrow. A tiny fragment of hope bubbled up in her belly. They’d had their disagreements, but his concern for her was the single bright spot in her day.

  Maddie blinked at the TV. Contestants discussed colors and fabrics. Not paying attention, she let the conversation flow around her.

  The branch scraped on her window again. She jumped.

  Chill.

  She was in her own room. The house was locked up tightly. In the morning, a man was coming to give her parents an estimate on a security system, and Dad’s freshly cleaned and oiled hunting rifle was at his side.

  She was safe here. Maddie picked up the remote and turned up the volume. But when would she stop feeling as if someone was outside, watching?

  Brooke settled at her desk. Teaching her self-defense class, and the glass of merlot at her elbow, had done wonders for her earlier panic. She opened her briefcase and took out a pile of tests and her answer key. Lifting her red pen, she started on the first paper. Through the ceiling, the muted sound of running water drowned out her thoughts.

  Luke was upstairs. Naked. In her shower. Again. Her imagination conjured up the image of him wearing only a towel and then shifted to the smoking-hot kiss they shared in the basement. She lifted the front of her shirt away from her skin. Was it hot in here?

  X equals sixty-eight. Check. Next problem.

  The rush of water stopped. He was done. He was rubbing one of her towels across his skin. This was ridiculous. She had a serious case of hormones gone wild. But after seeing him work so carefully with her class, paying attention to each girl and adjusting his level of aggression accordingly, his hotness rating had skyrocketed.

  And she wasn’t even going to think about the kiss. Drat. There it was, front and center in her mind, the taste of his mouth, the explorations of his tongue, other places she could imagine it…

  If only the attraction was limited to her physical reaction. That she could resist. Probably. But Wade was right. Luke was a good man. Kind, intelligent, funny. He only had one major fault: he wasn’t sticking around Westbury. He was off to Buenos Aires next week. Who in his right mind would stay in this little town when his li
fe could be one exotic adventure after the next?

  Besides her.

  There was nothing she could do to change matters. The situation was no more Luke’s fault than it had been Ian’s. But her heart couldn’t take not being enough for a man again. Y equals twenty-seven. At this rate, she was going to be up until midnight. She cleared her head and applied red pen to paper. In the next half hour, she plowed through half the pile.

  A knock on her doorframe interrupted her concentration. Luke walked into her office. The man could sure fill out a T-shirt and jeans. His hair was damp, his feet were bare, and he smelled like soap. Why did it seem like he was always showering? “Chris just scooped a monster bowl of ice cream. Do you want anything?”

  He had no idea. What she needed was a handful of ice in her shirt.

  “Um, no.” She smiled. Act casual. “I’m full. Thanks.”

  “Do you have a lot of work?” He asked. “I was going to watch a movie.” His eyes glinted as if he was thinking of doing more than watching a movie. Rats, now so was she.

  She glanced down at the pile of tests, then back at Luke. The thought of sitting on the sofa snuggled up with him was tempting. Too tempting. “I wish I could, but I really should finish grading these tests.”

  Disappointment dimmed his eyes. “No problem. I’ll be in the den if you need me.”

  She hunched over the stack of papers. She heard Luke and Chris talking in the kitchen. The dog barked. Brooke tracked Chris’s voice as he let Sunshine out then went upstairs. Brooke focused on her work. She set aside a poor test from a usually good student. She’d have to talk to him in the morning and find out what went wrong.

  Glass smashed. Something thudded. What was that? Brooke ran through the kitchen and joined Luke in the main corridor. Outside, a horn blared, and Brooke flinched.

  “Hey, Peterson!” The voice came from the front of the house.

  “Call the police and wait here,” Luke whispered. He crept down the hall.

  Brooke picked up the cordless phone and followed him. Chris and Haley were upstairs. If there was danger at the front of the house, she was putting herself between it and the stairwell that led to the second story—and her kids. She stopped at the entrance to the living room. A rock lay near the baseboard. Dents and scratches in the oak planks tracked its path across the floor. Wind blew through a jagged hole the size of a softball. The living room curtains were open, and yellow porch light filtered in and glittered on shards of broken glass.

  Luke shoved his feet into his sneakers. “You were calling the police?”

  “Peterson, I’m calling you!” A man’s voice, loud and slurred, brought her attention back to the front of the house. She made the call to 911.

  Skirting the debris, Luke walked to the side of the window. He peered around the edge. “There’s a man and a black truck on your front lawn.”

  Brooke checked the deadbolt on the front door and squinted through the decorative glass sidelight. The view was distorted by the leafy pattern and metal framework, but she could see the blurry shape of a man swaying in the center of the front lawn. He held a bottle in one hand. Behind him, a pickup was parked askew on the grass. The cab door hung open, and the interior light spilled out onto his work boots. The man reached into the car. The horn blared again. The sound sent a fresh shot of adrenaline through her veins.

  “What happened?” Chris asked from the stairwell. A wide-eyed Haley was at the top of the steps, clutching the banister.

  “Go back upstairs, Chris,” Brooke said over her shoulder. “You too, Haley. Stay out of sight, and there’s broken glass all over the living room.”

  Chris bent and squinted through the transom. “It’s Mr. Verdi.”

  “He gives me the creeps.” Haley’s voice trembled. Hugging her arms, she sat on the top step. Chris backed up the stairs and eased down next to her. “His daughter’s in my English class. She never says a word.”

  Brooke grabbed a pair of boots from the hall closet and stomped in them. Anger and fear churned in her belly. Damn Joe for scaring her kids. She moved to the window beside Luke and looked out the clear glass. “That’s Joe all right. He worked for Wade.”

  Luke nudged her behind him. The protective gesture eased the slamming of her heart in her throat. Chris and Haley were safer because Luke was here.

  “Joe was really upset when Wade let him go. Wade tried to find him another job, but the market is tight around here,” Brooke said.

  “Throwing a brick through your window seems extreme.”

  “I heard his wife left him too.” Brooke leaned around him and frowned. “He looks drunk. Joe’s not the most personable guy sober. Maybe I should go get my shotgun.”

  Luke turned back to the window. Joe honked his horn again. How long would it take the police to get out here? “I don’t see a gun on him, and the police will be here any minute. Any idea why he’s here?”

  “Technically, my house is the official address of Peterson’s Painting. Wade stored his stuff in the garage. The crew met Wade here and left their cars out back every day.”

  “Wade Peterson, I’m talking to you.” The man on the lawn called out. He swigged from his beer.

  Brooke leaned on Luke’s shoulder. Whether she needed physical or moral support, the way she fit against his body buoyed her spirits.

  Joe weaved across the lawn a few steps.

  Woof. Joe’s head swiveled. His gaze shifted to the side of the house.

  Dread strangled Brooke’s next breath. “Oh, no.”

  Sunshine was still outside.

  “Oh, hell.” Luke was unlocking and opening the door before Brooke could protest. “Lock this again behind me.”

  “Luke,” Brooke called out, but he’d already slipped outside. She loved Sunshine but didn’t want Luke to get hurt. With a glance at the kids still sitting at the top of the steps, she locked the door and hurried back to the window. Sunshine was rounding the corner of the house. Brooke scanned the road for the bright lights of a police car but saw nothing. How long would it take her to grab her shotgun? If she shot Joe to protect her dog, would she go to prison?

  Joe’s face swung back. His attention sharpened as he spotted Luke.

  “You’re Joe, right?” Luke went down the porch steps and stopped on the walk. He whistled. The dog changed course and headed for Luke with a wag.

  “Yeah. Who’re you?” Joe drained his bottle. Fifteen feet of lawn separated the two men.

  “I’m Luke. I’m a friend of the family.”

  Joe lurched forward a few steps. “Where’s Peterson?”

  “Wade’s not here.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Joe flipped the bottle to grip it by the neck. “You’re all a bunch of liars.”

  Luke held his hands up in front of his face, palms forward. “Whoa. It sounds like you’re upset with Wade, but he’s not here. Let’s calm down before anyone gets hurt.”

  “Too late. I’ve already been hurt because Wade had to go play fucking hero.” Joe’s face twisted in an angry sneer. He raised the beer bottle over his head and lunged at Luke. The bottle swung down toward Luke’s head, but Luke side-stepped out of its path. Joe’s hand arced downward through empty air. Luke grabbed Joe’s wrist with his left hand and plowed his right elbow into Joe’s face.

  Brooke heard the crunch of bone through the broken window.

  Joe’s head rocked back. Blood streamed from his nose. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he crumpled onto the grass.

  Relief washed through Brooke. She leaned on the wall for a few seconds and sucked in a few deep breaths.

  Luke hadn’t exaggerated when he said he could fight.

  Swirling lights of red, white, and blue signaled the approach of a police car. The cop pulled up behind the truck and got out of the car. It was Ethan, the young black-haired cop that had taken her complaint about the mailbox. Joe moaned. He put a hand to the ground to push himself up. The cop was on Joe in a second, flipping him over and cuffing his hands behind his back.
Ethan went to his cruiser, leaned in, and spoke into the radio.

  Brooke turned and limped to the front door. She crossed the porch and walked toward Luke. He met her halfway and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He smiled, but a shudder passed through his lanky frame. Sunshine sat down next to Luke’s legs. His free hand dropped onto her head.

  Joe mumbled curses into the lawn.

  “Do you know this guy?” Ethan nodded toward the cuffed man.

  “Yes,” Brooke said. “His name is Joe Verdi.”

  Ethan took their statements. She filled him in about Joe’s relationship to Wade.

  Ethan nodded at the black pickup. “I’ll bet he was the one who left the roadkill in your mailbox.” The cop hauled Joe to his feet and stuffed him in the back of his cruiser. “Brooke, you seriously need to catch a break.”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Brooke rubbed her arms. Luke pulled her closer, and she leaned into him, grateful for his masculine presence.

  “Please stop by the station tomorrow and sign your statements.” Ethan got into the car.

  “All right.” Taking the dog by the collar, Brooke turned and hobbled back inside as the police car drove off. Luke closed and locked the door. The kids were in the foyer. Neither were wearing shoes. “Stay out of the living room until I get that glass cleaned up. Chris, put Sunshine in the den. I don’t want her to cut her feet.”

  “Is he going to come back?” Haley twisted a lock of hair over her shoulder. A tear rolled down her cheek. Chris’s eyes were wide. Her kids had seen too much over the last few days. They hadn’t needed one more display of violence. How dare Joe come to her home and frighten her children.

  “Not tonight.” Brooke hugged her kids hard.

  Joe had looked like he was going to pass out before Luke likely broke his nose. Even if someone bailed him out, there was no way the police would give him his vehicle in his inebriated state. But tomorrow, who knew? Brooke was putting on a calm façade for her kids, but inside fear and fading adrenaline churned into nausea.