Chapter 4
Celeste woke up to the sounds of hammering. She bolted upright, heart pounding, thinking it was her neighbor. She got up, rushing to the closet to find her robe. She belted the sash and glanced at the bed. The covers were pushed back on the other side. Remembering that Chris had come to bed made her blush. He was actually in my bed.
She snapped out of her reverie when she heard cussing outside her bedroom window. She threw the drapes aside and was greeted with the sight of a shirtless Chris with a hammer in one hand and blood on the other. She slid the window open.
“What are you doing?”
He grinned at her through the screen. “Mornin’!”
“Your hand’s bleeding! What happened?”
He nonchalantly glanced at it. “Nothin’. Jus’ a scratch.”
Celeste could only shake her head. He needs a bandage for that. She closed the window and threw on a robe. She padded downstairs and searched for the first-aid kit. She pulled out some bandages and alcohol wipes. Celeste carried these to the door where she slipped her feet into her slippers and walked outside.
She found Chris next to the ladder, evidently waiting for her with a grimace on his face. “I only need one bandage, hon.”
“I got plenty just in case.” Celeste protested. “I just don’t want to try to take you to a hospital. We might get attacked along the way. So we’re just going to have to make do.”
Chris smiled. “You’re a country girl already, sweetheart.” His blue eyes twinkled with amusement and a slight amount of pain. He gasped as she cleaned his hand with the wipes and wrapped it in gauze.
“And what do country girls do in this regard?”
“I don’t know. Hit him with a cast-iron skillet?”
“Well, we have to do something. I’m tired of waiting for him to make a move. I’ll make one.”
“That’s my girl.” Chris said quietly. Louder, “Well, I’ll change and we’ll make a plan.”
Celeste found her cheeks coloring as she realized she was still wearing her robe. “I’ll change, too.” She headed back inside and went upstairs. She heard him come in the house a few minutes later, and heard his footsteps up the stairs.
Suddenly thinking it was her neighbor, she quickly opened the drawer to her nightstand and pulled out her .45. She crept to the door and stood poised. Heart pounding, she watched the door handle turn slowly and the door opened. Celeste cocked the gun, and the door stopped opening.
“Celeste, hon?”
Celeste lowered the gun and stepped around the door. “Sorry. I’m just jumpy.”
His blue eyes lingered on the Colt in her hand. “Jumpy? I should say so.” He hadn’t changed yet, so he was still shirtless. Celeste returned the weapon to her nightstand. “We need to do something, yes. But what?”
Celeste started to shake her head but stopped. “Well, my mother wanted to sell off my grandfather’s truck, but it should still be in the barn.”
“If it runs.”
Her shoulders dropped. “Yes. If it runs.”
“I’ll go see if the truck has gas. Do you have any alcohol?”
Celeste blinked. “Alcohol? Why?”
Chris grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. “Somethin’ us country boys used to do. You’ll see.”
Celeste shook her head and stripped off her robe. After she hung it up, she turned and noticed he had gone. Taking advantage of the privacy, she quickly changed into shirt and shorts. Her blood suddenly ran cold when she heard a polite knock on the door.
She crept down the stairs, a .45 in her hand. Hiding it behind her back, she went to the door and opened it slightly. Her blood chilled at the sight of her neighbor.
“Celeste Schumacher. You’re still alive.”
“Charles Manigault.” Celeste heard herself growl. “You will not frighten me. Not even with your mutts.” She tried to shut the door on him, but he blocked it with his shoulder. Celeste was surprised by the strength he showed.
“My ‘mutts’ are well-trained. Don’t worry. I will not order them to kill Mr. Sharp, your AC guy.”
“To hell with you.” Celeste slammed her shoulder into the door, but the door flew open as Charles blocked her. Celeste landed on her hip, bringing up her .45. She fired off a few rounds, which Charles ducked. Celeste scrambled to her feet and backed up, still firing the gun. Her next rounds went wild in her fear. He put his fingers to his mouth and let out a whistle. Celeste heard herself whimper as his Rottweilers flanked Charles in the open door. The dogs were snarling and drooling.
Then Charles gave the order which Celeste dreaded: “Attack. Kill.”
Celeste fired the rest of her magazine, then chucked the gun at them. She ran down the hall, hearing Charles’ laughter waft after her. She darted into the kitchen, to the drawer next to the fridge, pulling out another handgun. The two dogs skidded to a stop on the tile. She aimed and fired, striking one of the dogs in the shoulder. One went down with a yelp, and that caused the other one to leap at her.
Celeste ducked and the dog slammed its body into the fridge, denting it. Celeste ran as fast as she could to the back door, opening it and slamming it shut. She heard Charles roar in frustration. He must have found the one in the kitchen. I gotta get to the barn. Warn Chris! She looked wildly around and spotted a shovel. She tucked the gun in her shorts waistband and picked it up, threading the handle of the door with it. She raced to the barn, and nearly ran into Chris.
“Celeste!”
“He’s here! We gotta go! How’s the truck?”
“We only have a half-tank.”
“Going somewhere?” Charles’ voice sounded behind her. Celeste heard the growls of the dogs behind her. She turned around and her heart sank. The one dog she shot had a bloody shoulder, standing beside its companion.
“You got a gun?” Celeste felt him reach around and pluck it from her waistband. “Get in the barn. Truck’s ready to go.”
“You can’t face him yourself.”
“Go.”
Biting her lip, Celeste slipped into the barn and quickly ran to the truck. She yanked the door open, cringing at hearing the hinges squeal. She sat in the driver’s seat and felt around for the keys. She sighed in relief as she found them. The engine turned over and just as she relaxed, she heard a soft growl.
She slowly turned her head. There was the bloodied Rottweiler, snarling, crouching, ready to spring. Celeste was reaching for the door when it sprang at her. She managed to slam the door shut, the dog scrabbling on the door, scratching it. She slammed her foot on the accelerator, the truck lurching forward, breaking through the side of the barn. She caught sight of Charles, his lip bloody, his clothes bloody. He was standing over Chris who was lying on the ground, a Rottweiler standing on the other side.
Charles looked up at the last moment as Celeste accelerated, jerking the wheel, feeling the truck bounce. Chris had rolled out of the way as Celeste had accelerated. She stopped the truck and got out, rushing to his side.
Chris was breathing heavily, his shirt torn. Celeste saw bruises on his chest. “God, are you all right?”
“Maybe a broken rib or two. Nothing serious.”
“Come on, let’s get you-” Celeste stopped when she saw the two Rottweilers running towards them. “Get in the truck. Get in the truck!” Celeste managed to shove Chris over to the passenger side. She got in and slammed the door, putting it in gear and accelerating. She raced past the dogs and managed to get out onto the road.
She relaxed once she hit the highway. Chris slumped in the seat. “We’ll get somewhere safe.”
“I only have a half-tank. Correction: Half minus an eighth. I don’t know long we can go.” Chris sighed. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I know of a doctor who lives a few miles away. We’ll make it.” He gave her the address and she turned off on the nearest dirt road on the way.
Celeste glanced over to Chris, and bit her lip in worry. He was slumped in the seat, eyes closed, asleep. She relaxed in the seat, watching the serene landscape fly by a
s she raced down the road to the only safety she knew.
The End
The Watcher Page 4
