His hands felt … comforting. Heavy and strong, but in a good way.
Turning a slow spin, she came face-to-face with the only man she’d allowed to touch her in almost twelve years – not counting the doctors who’d brought her back from the brink of death.
As she turned to face him, he replaced his hands on her shoulders. She let him.
“I’m not?”
“No. Is something weird going on? Possibly. But that doesn’t mean you’re crazy.”
“Then how did someone get in my house without setting off my alarm?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out.”
Connor stuck his head into the kitchen and Jamie stepped back. Surprisingly, she missed the weight of Dakota’s hands on her shoulders.
Something to ponder later.
Connor said, “Hey, guys, Samantha’s working the rest of the house. I dusted the mantel and the doorknob for prints and will get the lab to run them for me. It won’t be a priority because I’m calling in a favor, so don’t know how long it’ll actually take.”
Jamie gave a rare genuine smile. “I might be able to help that along tomorrow. I’ve got a few connections.”
Connor nodded. “Samantha’s going to spend the night here with you tonight and – ”
“No,” Jamie sighed “really, that’s not necessary.”
“She says it is and frankly, I agree. Until we know what’s going on, you need to stick close to someone who knows how to use a gun.”
That stopped her. “What? You think someone’s targeted me? That … that I’ve picked up a stalker or something?” The irony of it hit her. She threw up her hands. “Great. I don’t leave the house for years and the minute I decide to try and have a life, some sicko wants to ruin it for me.” She ignored the tinge of hysteria in her voice and the fact that her volume had notched up a few decibels.
Dakota laid a calming hand on her arm and she shrugged him off. Anger like nothing she’d ever felt before spun through her. Shocked, she stopped, then realized the anger felt good.
Really, really good.
Much better than the fear she’d lived with the past eleven-plus years. She poked a finger in Dakota’s chest and said, “I’m not hiding anymore. I’m not going to be afraid anymore. I’m not giving up the life I’ve just managed to acquire. This time I’m fighting back, got it?”
Whoa. Where did this feisty new person come from? Even Connor stood there looking stunned at Jamie’s uncharacteristic outburst.
Dakota held his hands up as though in surrender. “Sure, Jamie. But it might be nothing.”
“Right. Tomorrow, you’re teaching me how to shoot a gun, okay?”
“Absolutely.”
She spun from the kitchen and left silence in her wake.
Dakota finally turned to Connor and asked, “Who was that?”
“I don’t know, but I like her.” He grinned. “How’s the hole in your chest?”
Dakota rubbed the spot, realizing it was the first time Jamie had voluntarily touched him.
He’d take what he could get.
He matched Connor’s grin. “It’s perfect.” The he sobered. “Connor, I don’t want you to betray any confidences or anything, but is there anything you can tell me about Jamie that’ll help me …” He trailed off, not wanting to ask, yet almost unable to help himself.
“She was attacked when she was eighteen years old. She’s made tremendous progress to … ‘get over it’ is the wrong phrase. More like move on from it.”
Dakota blanched, but nodded. “Yeah, I figured something major must have happened to make her so skittish.”
“And it wasn’t just a physical attack. The guy messed up her mind – big time.”
Fury started a slow burn in the pit of his gut. “Like I said, I figured.”
“But it’s not my story to tell. Jamie will let you in on the details when she’s ready. Samantha told me. Jamie’s never mentioned it in my presence. But I’ll warn you,” he frowned and swallowed hard, “it’s one of the ugliest and sickest stories you’ll ever hear.”
This coming from Connor? A guy who’d been in law enforcement for over fifteen years and had seen every depraved thing there was to see? A sick feeling joined the fury churning inside him, and he vowed to do whatever it took to help Jamie. Whatever it took to keep her safe. “Did they get the guy?”
“That’s the worst part. He’s still out there.”
Jamie caved to Samantha’s insistence that she spend the night. Truth be told, Jamie was glad. While she desperately wanted to be independent, to live cautiously but without the paralyzing fear she’d succumbed to soon after she’d awakened in the hospital, she couldn’t deny she was … uneasy.
She walked into the den and looked at the now shut blinds. The thought of someone watching her made her shudder. How long had this been going on? Was he out there even now?
Jamie swallowed – hard, inched her way over to the window, and slipped a finger between two slats.
“Are you okay?”
Startled, Jamie whirled from the window, heart pounding in her throat. Samantha.
“Yeah.” She winced at the breathless quality of her voice. Clearing her throat, she reaffirmed, “I’m fine.” Then paused. “Well, not fine, exactly. A little scared, to be honest.”
Samantha walked over to hug her. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”
Jamie pushed a reassuring smile to stiff lips. “I know.” And she didn’t doubt they’d do their best to keep her safe; however, this person had already been in her house. She’d changed the code to her alarm and felt better, but maybe she should get a dog.
The memories swirled to the forefront of her mind.
He stroked her cheek, stirring the nausea already churning in her belly to new heights. Then he backed off, murmuring under his breath.
Straining against the cuffs, she felt them cut into her, sharp and biting. Blood slicked her wrists.
Then he was back, his low, raspy voice assaulting her left ear. “You’re so beautiful, Jamie. Let me be your hero.”
Jamie squeezed her eyes shut. “Leave me alone!” The words tore from her throat, raw from her constant screaming.
Movement, sounds. The rushing roar of her blood in her ears blocking everything except the terror. She ignored his low laugh, felt him move away. After a second of tense, dreaded anticipation, she cracked her eyes … a shadow to her left. She panted, another scream building, eyes darting, desperation fueling her strength as she pulled, yanked, felt her raw skin tear even more.
The rose petals falling, brushing her face as he dropped them, spread them …
“Why are you doing this?” A sob, a plea, a desperate need to make sense of such cruelty.
She felt him pause beside her. “Just call it your therapy.” Then he gave another laugh, pain bit at her from all sides …
With a jerky movement, she pulled away from Samantha’s comfort – and the horrifying memories. “Listen, why don’t we send the guys home, order some pizza, and have a girls’ night?”
Samantha smiled around the shadows Jamie hated to still see lingering in her sister’s gaze. “I don’t know, Jamie, it’s late …”
The phone rang just as Dakota and Connor made their way back into the den area. Jamie grabbed it, grateful for the distraction.
“Hello?”
“Jamie, this is Maya, how are you?”
Maya Olsen, her former counselor turned good friend.
“I’m all right.” Not really, but she wasn’t getting into it now. “How are you doing?”
“Great, do you have plans tomorrow night? I thought we could catch a movie or something. I’m in desperate need for some girl time.”
Forcing out a lighthearted chuckle, Jamie said, “You must be on the same wavelength as I am tonight. Why don’t you come over to my house as soon as you can? Samantha’s keeping me company tonight. You can join us.”
“I wouldn’t be intruding on a sisters’ thing?”
>
“Not at all, we’d love to have you.”
“All right then, see you soon.”
Jamie hung up the cordless phone and turned to find everyone looking at her. “What?”
Dakota frowned. “I don’t know how wise it is to invite Maya over until we figure out what’s going on with whoever managed to get in your house today.”
Jamie gasped. “You’re right. I didn’t think … I don’t want to believe … I just can’t …” She stopped and pulled in a deep breath. “I’ll call her back and tell her not to come.” She reached for the phone, but Samantha held up a hand.
“Wait a minute. I’ve been thinking about this. What do we really know for sure? We don’t know that anyone was actually in this house. There could be a reasonable explanation for all of the things that have happened and we’re just jumping to conclusions because of,” she sucked in a deep breath, “your past.”
Connor stared at his wife. “How so, Sam?”
Samantha tightened her ponytail and scrubbed a hand across her eyes. “I don’t know. Let’s think about this. What have we got so far?”
“My picture is missing from the mantel,” Jamie stated flatly. She moved over and stared at the blank spot. Her gaze roved over the rest of the area. “Grandaddy’s cane is here, all the other pictures are here. Everything looks fine except for the missing picture.”
“Right. When was the last time Mom and Dad were here?”
“Last week. For lunch before leaving on their trip to Colorado.” Retirees, their parents loved to travel and had most recently decided to travel cross-country in their motor home. They’d be back next week.
“Maybe Mom decided to take the picture with her. She was doing some scrapbooking lately, remember? A couple weeks ago, she asked if I had any she could copy.”
Jamie sighed. “Yes, I know, but she wouldn’t have just taken the picture, would she? She would have asked. I know she would have.”
“Maybe she meant to and got distracted. You know Mom, sometimes, she means to do something and forgets.”
Dakota pulled out his cell phone. “Well, that’s easy to find out. What’s her number?”
While he dialed the number Connor supplied, Samantha looked back at Jamie. “What else?”
“All the lights were off. I’d never leave them off.”
Uncertainty flashed across Samantha’s face and Jamie felt her gut clench.
Samantha said, “Okay, like you said when we got here. Maybe you just … forgot. Were you in a hurry to get to work?”
“Yes, in a little bit of a hurry.”
“Okay, so you were rushing around. You grabbed your work stuff and headed out the door. It’s broad daylight, you’re not thinking that you’re going to be late getting home and you just … leave. Without hitting the light switch.”
Jamie bit her lip. Was it possible? Maybe, but … “What about my blinds. I never open them. I would have remembered that one.”
“Maybe you brushed by them in a hurry and hit them. Or something.” She threw her hands up. “Anything’s possible.”
Jamie realized Samantha really wanted to believe that. “Okay, all of that is possible, I suppose.”
Dakota pushed his Stetson back on his head and looked at Jamie as he hung up the phone. “No one’s answering. We can try again later. And,” he looked over at Samantha, “what you’re saying sounds pretty reasonable, but if Jamie’s scared, I think it bears looking into.”
“I’m not saying we shouldn’t look into it, just – ”
The door bell rang and Jamie jumped. She gave a self-conscious laugh that lacked humor. “That’s Maya. Guess it’s too late to tell her to stay home.”
Making her way over to the door, she considered everything Samantha had just come up with. Maybe she was just being paranoid.
Gripping the knob, she sighed and closed her eyes for a brief moment. She was overreacting.
No she wasn’t.
She opened her eyes and the door greeting Maya with, “Hey, glad you could make it. Come on in.”
Maya, dark hair turning slightly grey, stood at five feet two inches – maybe. She stepped into the foyer and asked, “You didn’t sound right on the phone so I ordered a pizza to be delivered here. I’m starved.”
Pushing aside bad memories and worries about a possible stalker, Jamie hugged her friend and told herself to relax. Everything would be fine. The bad stuff in her life was over.
Right?
4
Jamie watched Maya pull away from the curb and turned to Samantha as she closed the front door. “She knows me so well. I can’t believe she could hear all the stress in my voice … crazy. And even though I’ll struggle to get up in the morning since it’s,” she glanced at the clock, “12:15, I’m glad she came over.”
Samantha grabbed the pizza box and headed for the kitchen. “It was nice.” Her expression stated the exact opposite.
Jamie followed her and watched as her sister tossed the box into the trash. Concerned, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m bothered.”
“By?”
“Everything that’s happened tonight.”
Jamie blew out a sigh and slumped into the nearest chair. “I was trying to forget it.”
“Well, I can’t!” Samantha’s outburst flew from her lips and Jamie flinched, staring at her sister.
She held out a beseeching hand. “Sam, I’m sorry, I – ”
“Where’s that picture, Jamie?” Desperation flashed before she could cover it up.
Keeping her cool, Jamie stood. “I don’t know. I hope Mom has it …”
“She doesn’t.”
Jamie paused. “What? How do you know?”
“She called my cell while I was in the restroom. I didn’t tell her what was going on, of course, just asked her if she’d taken the picture from your mantel.”
“And?”
“She was indignant that I’d even ask.”
Her stomach dropped at that pronouncement. Somehow she’d held out hope that her mother had taken the picture and forgotten to mention it.
Even though she was 99 percent sure she hadn’t.
And now that it was confirmed, Jamie felt confused – and scared. “I’m going to bed.” Turning on her heel, she left the kitchen, ignoring Samantha’s protest.
Ugly fear she’d thought she’d conquered battled to rise up in her, mocking her newfound safety, her determination to succeed and escape the constant reminders of her past.
Pain beat through her. Tears leaked from her eyes against her will. Oh God, either save me or let me die! She wailed silently, refusing to cry out this time. The heavy plaster cast on her lower left leg weighted her down. The handcuffs around her wrist kept her bound to the iron bed. Wetness trickled down the inside of her arm and around to her elbow. The smell of her own blood stung her nostrils. She heard the doorknob jiggle and fought the urge to vomit. Tilting her head back, she stared at the ceiling and caved.
She screamed and screamed and screamed.
“Jamie?” The soft voice pulled her from her wide-awake nightmare with a gasp. She gripped her head in both hands, then pulled her fingers through her curls.
“What, Sam?”
“I’m sorry,” came the heartfelt apology.
Jamie closed her eyes, then turned to hug her sister. “It’s all right.”
Tears filled Samantha’s eyes, then she blinked them away. “I’ll be right across the hall if you need me.”
“I know. Thanks.”
Sam gave her one more searching, apologetic look and walked into the bedroom that she considered hers.
Jamie sighed and dropped onto her bed, staring at the rose-patterned comforter. She knew Sam was apologizing for more than just losing her cool in the kitchen.
A rebellious teen, Jamie hadn’t wanted anything to do with authority or rules. At the age of eighteen, she’d been sure she’d known it all, could handle anything that came her way. Almost ten years her senior, Samantha had
n’t agreed.
The party had been wild. Jamie had been high on life and something she’d willingly smoked. Then Samantha had shown up.
“What are you doing here?” eighteen-year-old Jamie hissed.
“Saving your hide,” Samantha insisted as she pulled Jamie out of the arms of an intoxicated young man, threatening to arrest him if he ever came near her sister again. “The cops are on the way and I’m getting you out of here.”
Furious, Jamie flung an arm at Samantha, who ducked and shoved her sister in the car. At first Jamie just sat there, fuming, then she growled, “You are not my mother. Why don’t you just stay out of stuff that’s not your business.”
“You’re my sister. That makes you my business,” she retorted. “Look, we’re almost home. Sleep it off and we’ll talk in the morning.”
“I’m not talking to you,” Jamie screamed and grabbed the wheel.
Samantha slammed on the brakes and shoved Jamie with a hard hand to her shoulder. She yelled, “Are you trying to kill us?”
Jamie jumped from the car and slammed the door. Samantha cruised along beside her and rolled down the window. “Fine then. Walk home. Maybe it’ll cool you off and slap a little sense into your head.” She tossed Jamie’s heavy coat out of the window and drove off.
Jamie remembered feeling relieved – and cold. She grabbed her coat. Home was only about a mile up the road and she needed the time to herself, to decide what to do about Samantha and her constant interference in her social life. But deep down she knew Sam was right.
Tears clogged her throat. She hated the rift she was causing between the two of them – and the worry she saw in her mother’s eyes every time the woman looked at her lately. She really needed to get it together. But she was just so afraid of the future, unsure about what to do with her life. She walked that fine line of being eager for independence and scared of it all at the same time.
Then a stinging pain hit her leg and she knew no more.
Jamie jerked as though she could feel the dart biting into her flesh all over again.
She’d awakened, handcuffed to a bed. Horrified, she’d struggled until the blood flowed from her shredded wrists. And then he had entered the room.
Now, sitting on the edge of her bed, she pushed her sleeves up and examined her scars. A minor consequence of her disobedience and rebellion. Her futile attempt at escape. The worst scars were the ones she couldn’t see.
Don't Look Back Page 3
