by Dover, L. P.
Quickly, I dialed 911 on my cell and hit the send button, but that was as far as I could get. A set of arms wrapped around my neck and I screamed as my phone fell onto the couch and I was hauled over top of it. My screams came to a halt as I was thrown onto the floor, the breath whooshing out of my lungs. I gasped for air, but the weight of my attacker pressed against my chest. It felt like the whole world crashed in all around me. It was so dark I couldn’t see who my attacker was.
He slammed my head against the hardwood floor and the pain sent crushing waves all through my body. I cried out and he did it again, only this time I couldn’t move my arms or legs. He held my arms above my head, his grip excruciatingly tight as he held my wrists. I could hear and feel him on top of me, but I couldn’t fight him.
“You took everything from me,” he growled, his voice right by my ear. I could feel his breath on my neck and it terrified me. I didn’t recognize his voice. It chilled me to the bone.
“Who are you?” I cried.
His body felt heavier as he crushed me to the floor. “Your mother paid her price. Now it’s time for you to pay yours.”
He ripped my shirt open and I could feel the cold, sharp edge of the knife in his hand as he slid it across my skin. In that moment, something shifted inside of me. It was him, the man who killed my mother.
Memories threatened to overcome me and I dug deep to find my fury. This was my opportunity to settle things, the reason I took all of those self-defense courses was to level the playing field and take this motherfucker out.
Even though I was scared, I sought my rage to overtake me. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but all of a sudden, I could feel my arms and legs. My mind became clear and I was ready to fight. I knew the movements, had practiced them with Amy over and over again and now it was time to skillfully implement them.
I sucked in a fast breath, and jerked my arms out of his hold, elbowing him as hard as I could against the side of the head. Although pain ran up my arm it knocked him off balance and I kicked him hard in the gut landing the exact spot to immobilize him. It gave me the split second I needed to get away. The door was so close, but I didn’t get far.
“You stupid cunt,” he shouted, tackling me back down to the floor. My face hit the wood and pain exploded through my body.
All I knew was that I couldn’t stop fighting.
Anticipate, Devastate, Dominate.
The mantra we chanted weekly in class repeated through my brain.
I wanted to see his face, but all that stared down at me was nothing but black; it was too dark and he had his face covered. What I did see was the knife in his hand. Using all of my strength, my arms shook as I tried to keep the blade away from me. I screamed and kicked, but my strength started to wane. The tip of the knife dug into my chest and I had a choice to make. In a life or death situation, there was only one choice … to live.
In one quick move, I head butted him landing the hit on his nose — unfortunately, the knife dug in deeper into my chest as he growled in pain. I head butted him again and this time he fell back cracking his head on the corner of the coffee table. The knife stuck out of my chest and I pulled it out as the blood poured from the wound and down my ripped shirt. Nausea overtook me, but I pushed through it and got to my feet, still holding the knife in my hands. My legs felt heavy as if I was trudging through quicksand, but I made it to my front door and escaped.
“Somebody help me,” I screamed, stumbling across my front lawn. “Please, somebody!” I went straight across the road to my neighbor’s house. Their front porch light turned on and Timothy ran out, followed by his wife, Sarah. “Help me,” I cried out again, holding a hand over my bleeding chest. “The killer’s in my house.”
Timothy raced toward me and put his arm around me. Sarah joined us and grabbed my arm to help me. “Sarah, take her inside the house and lock the door,” Timothy demanded. “I’m going over there.”
“No,” I cried, but he had already taken off across the street. Some of our other neighbors were now turning their lights on, looking out their windows trying to see what all the commotion was about. A few came over to me and Sarah — our community was a tight one, we helped one another.
Sarah asked them to go back to their homes and call the police as she pushed me toward their door. “Kennedy, let’s go. It’s not safe out here.” She helped me inside and I fell to the floor the second she locked the door. With tears in my eyes, I looked down at the knife in my hand. It wasn’t long before the darkness took me.
CHAPTER THREE
Kennedy
The smell of antiseptic and sterile sheets filled my nose. My head felt like it was spinning, almost as if I was drunk. Then understanding hit me. The pain in my chest was a stark reminder of what I’d just been through.
All the memories of my mother’s murder played through my mind. It had only been months ago, and even though I’d spent time in counseling trying to compartmentalize and deal with it all, so as not to become a bumbling pile of mush, nothing would ever erase the incident from my mind.
The self-defense courses, the avoidance of the press, maintaining a regular schedule continuing with my classes and of course twice a week appointments with my therapist helped me function. Though an occasional Ambien never hurt, but I was careful not to abuse them.
I opened my eyes to see Amy right beside me, holding my hand. She gasped when she noticed I was awake. “Oh my God, Kennedy. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
I cleared my throat and it was so dry I could barely recognize my voice. “Me too. I’m so glad you weren’t there.” The thought of something happening to her terrified me. What if she had come home with me? The killer could’ve hurt her.
Amy shook her head. “I wish I was. We could’ve fought him together.”
I looked around the hospital room, not even remembering getting there. Everything was a blur, but the pain I felt was all too real. “How long have I been here?”
She frowned. “Two days. You’ve been doped up on pain meds.”
“Two days?” I shrieked, jerking my attention to the beeping heart monitor. My heart rate had skyrocketed. I turned back to her. “What happened? Did they catch the guy?”
“Yes,” she replied, squeezing my hand. “They got him.”
Relief washed through me, but it didn’t feel like enough. There was an emptiness inside me that ached to be filled. I wanted whoever it was to suffer, but if he was in jail, I’d never get the chance to see it.
Teeth clenched, I could feel my chest tighten, like skin pulling against my stitches. I hadn’t seen the damage yet, but I knew it was there. The scar would be a constant reminder of the hell I’d been through. “Who was it?” I demanded.
A knock sounded on the door and a man walked in, holding out his badge. He looked to be in his mid-fifties with closely shaved light brown hair, wearing a pair of jeans and a brown coat that hid his holster underneath. “Sorry to interrupt, Ms. Scott, but I’m Detective John Tallman. I’d like to speak with you if that’s okay.”
I looked over at Amy and she handed me a cup of water. “I answered as much as I could. The police have been working nonstop on your case.”
Taking the water, I drank it in one gulp. “I want to know who it was,” I demanded. “Do I know him?” Although I couldn’t help to tamp down the fear inside me, I was angry over the whole situation too and that someone wanted to kill me.
The detective nodded and moved closer. “You do, as a matter of fact.”
Amy squeezed my hand again. “He was one of your students a couple of years ago, and also one of your mother’s.”
The breath whooshed out of my lungs. I placed a hand over my mouth and swallowed a few times to keep my water down. I couldn’t think of a single student that I or my mother might’ve had a problem with. “What’s his name?”
Detective Tallman released a heavy sigh. “Shawn Wyatt. Your neighbor found him in the woods behind your house and had him restrained in your backyard when we arrived at the s
cene.”
My gut clenched and the bile rose up my throat. I remembered Shawn Wyatt very well. There were things that happened between us that I hadn’t told anyone. “This doesn’t make any sense,” I said, feeling sick to my stomach. I closed my eyes and I could hear the voice of my attacker. “The voice didn’t sound like Shawn’s at all.” Or maybe it was the trauma of events that made me hear it differently. Nothing made sense.
Detective Tallman sighed again. “Apparently he was obsessed with you. We searched his house and found pictures of you everywhere.”
Tears filled my eyes and I shook my head. I never thought Shawn could do such a thing. He was never violent around me or at school, but I did know he had problems. I just chose not to tell anyone. If he was the one who killed my mother and attacked me, I’d never forgive myself for not exposing him when I had the chance. I let go of Amy’s hand and clutched my stomach.
“My attacker said I ruined his life and that my mother had paid her price.”
The detective pulled out a small notebook from his pocket. “What would make Shawn say something like that?”
The blood rushed out of my face and I looked over at Amy. She could tell I was hiding something. “Kennedy, what is it?”
Detective Tallman stared at me curiously. “Ms. Scott? Was there something going on between you two?”
I shook my head quickly, realizing what he must be thinking. “Not like that,” I gasped, “at least for my part. He, on the other hand, had other things in mind.”
Amy slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I focused back on the detective. “I didn’t want Shawn to get in trouble,” I said, wishing like hell I’d listened to my gut and turned him in for stalking. “He started off by visiting me in my classroom. Just small talk at first. I’ve had plenty of students confide in me, especially when I first started teaching since I’m young. But Shawn was different, he’d wait for me at my car after school. It started to make me uncomfortable and I told him he needed to stop.”
“And did he?” the detective asked.
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “For a while until he graduated. After that, he left for college, but when he came home for the summer last year, he started sending me gifts. He also joined the same gym and would try to talk to me there. I threatened to get a restraining order if he didn’t stop. I haven’t seen him since then.” He’d gotten so angry with me for not giving him a chance. Granted, he wasn’t my student anymore at that time, but I didn’t see him romantically. After all the stalking, it started to scare me.
Brows furrowed, Detective Tallman wrote more notes down on his paper. After he was done, he sighed and sat down in the chair beside my bed. “Shawn confessed to stalking you, Ms. Scott, but he denied being the one who attacked you or the one who killed your mother. We found his fingerprints in your house, but mostly, in your bedroom.”
The thought of him being in my house terrified me. There was no telling how many times he could’ve been in there and I didn’t even know. “What happens now?” I asked.
He sighed again. “All the evidence is pretty much right there in front of us, but we’ll search for more clues and go from there. Mr. Wyatt is in custody and will face life in prison if convicted.”
Tears fell down my cheeks. “I should’ve done something about him a long time ago.”
Amy brushed the hair off my face. “You didn’t know, Kennedy. You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”
Detective Tallman stood. “She’s right.” He handed me his card. “I’m sorry this happened to you. My men and I are doing everything we can to bring you justice. If you need anything or remember something that’ll help with the case, please give me a call.”
I took his card. “Thanks, Detective.”
Turning on his heel, he walked out the door. All I wanted was to get away from it all. I knew the second I left the hospital, I’d be followed by the media again.
“What are you going to do now?” Amy questioned.
I didn’t want to leave Belmont or my students, but I had no choice. Gently, I pulled the gown down over my chest, but my wound was covered. I hurt like my heart had already been ripped out, but I could feel it pounding underneath the bandage.
“I need to get away from here,” I whispered. “From it all. Everywhere I go there are too many bad memories.” All I had was my mother and she was gone. There were no aunts or uncles that I knew of on her side, but my father had a sister that I hadn’t seen in years. I was pretty much alone. I had some cousins out there somewhere, but I didn’t know them.
Amy sniffled. “Where would you go? After the school season, I’ll come stay with you for a while.”
Nodding, I carefully placed a hand over my bandage. “Don’t know yet, but it’s going to be far from here.”
Very far.
CHAPTER FOUR
Reed
FOUR MONTHS LATER
“Want anything to drink?” Faith asked as we walked into the kitchen. There was red paint all over her shorts, T-shirt, and in her blonde hair, but then again, we were all covered in it. Their house had just recently finished being built, and now Faith had it in her mind that she wanted a red barn.
Dominic snorted and walked past her to the refrigerator. “You’re damn right he does. Don’t know why you wouldn’t just let me pay someone to paint the damn barn.” He grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and handed it to me, winking behind Faith’s back. There was a time when I didn’t really like Dominic, but he was now one of my closest friends. I thought he was bad news, especially being part of a mafia family. He’d proved me wrong though. He left that life behind when he moved with Faith to Wyoming. My family had sold them a part of our land and now they were my neighbors.
Faith lifted her chin defiantly in the air. “There was no reason to spend money on painters when we could do it ourselves. I’m out there helping you, aren’t I?”
Her lips pursed, challenging him for a comeback, and all he did was chuckle. “You see what I have to put up with?” he said to me.
I chugged down the beer. “You’ll manage. She has a point though. You’re not in New York anymore. Real men work out here.”
Faith burst out laughing and held her hand in the air. “That was a good one.” I slapped her hand and she hugged me. “I love having you around.” She squeezed me tight and let go. “Are you bringing anyone to the wedding?” Their wedding wasn’t for another four months and it was going to be the biggest event our town had ever seen.
Most importantly, Faith wanted to give her best friend, Layla – who was seven months pregnant – time to have her baby so she could be her maid of honor. Layla was also married to my brother, Bryce, which made her a part of my family.
She walked over to Dominic and he draped his arm over her shoulders. “I’ve seen the way the women look at you at the bar,” he teased. “Surely you have someone in mind.”
Finishing off my beer, I tossed the bottle in the recycle bin “I have plenty of time.”
There was a time when I had feelings for Faith, but I backed off when she made it clear she had feelings for Dominic. I’d been with a couple of women since then, but nothing serious. I was a twenty-eight-year-old assassin working for a secret group of the FBI called the Circle of Justice. That wasn’t exactly something you could tell just anyone. The only person I’d ever confided in about it was Faith.
My phone rang and I pulled it out of my back pocket. It was my father, Glenn Chandler. He was a retired FBI agent, but also the one who started the Circle of Justice and Chandler Enterprises. He lived in Charlotte, North Carolina, along with my older brother, Wade, who took over the family’s multi-billion-dollar company.
“Hey,” I answered.
“Where are you, son?” he asked.
Brows furrowed, I held the phone closer to my ear. “At Faith and Dom’s. Why?” There was an odd tone to his voice I didn’t like.
He sighed. “I’m at your house. There’s someon
e who needs to speak with you.”
“All right,” I said, reaching into my pocket for my truck keys. “I’ll be right there.”
We hung up and I slid my phone back into my pocket. A look of concern passed across Faith’s face. “Is everything okay?”
With a heavy sigh, I shrugged. “My dad’s in town. Judging by the way he sounded, I don’t think it’s good.” I backed up toward the door. “I’ll talk to you guys later. If I don’t have to leave town, I’ll be back to paint again tomorrow.”
I rushed out of the house and hopped in my truck. My ranch was literally only a minute away so it didn’t take me long to get home. When I arrived, my father and another man I didn’t recognize stood in the driveway beside a black sedan. He had to be a cop or someone with the FBI if he was here to talk to me. I could see the holster underneath his brown blazer which confirmed my suspicions. I parked beside them and my father walked over. It’d been a while since I’d seen him— retirement suited him. His dark hair was a little grayer, but he deserved the time off after everything he’d done for the country. He’d gotten rid of his suits and replaced them with slacks and polo shirts.
The second I got out of the truck, he hugged me. “It’s been a long time, son.”
I returned his hug. “It has.”
When he moved to Charlotte, he wanted me to come with him to help with Chandler Enterprises, but my place was in Wyoming. Wearing a suit every day wasn’t my thing. Still, it never stopped him from trying to coerce me back home. I’d contemplated the career change several times since it was my mother’s dream to help struggling companies and bring them back to life. That was why my father started Chandler Enterprises in the first place. He wanted to make her happy. Also, my mother wanted him to eventually step away from the FBI, which he did. We never expected Chandler Enterprises to turn into the billion-dollar company it is today.
He stepped back and smiled. “It’s so good to see you. I’m still waiting for you to come to Charlotte and play golf with me.” Now that he was retired, he spent most of his time on the golf course. When I was younger, he was the one who taught me how to play. I hadn’t swung a golf club in years. The FBI kept me busy.
