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She smiled up at him. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his swollen lips with a soft movement
.
“Go home, Brock. I’ll call soon.” Her hands tightened on the afghan and she moved to the stairs.
She was almost to her room when she heard him leave. He closed the door soundly and long minutes later she heard his jeep start and pull from the drive. She shook her head, lowered it, and headed for her room.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It was still dark when Sarah awoke, groggy, uncertain what had disturbed her. She blinked, staring in confusion at the ceiling when she heard it again. The stairs were creaking. Slow, measured steps, but the creak of the wood in the silent house was easily heard.
Her heart jumped in her chest, nearly strangling her with her fear. Brock? Would he attempt to sneak into her bed after she had asked him to leave? To give her time to think? It didn’t seem his style. He would be the one pounding on the door, demanding that she let him in. That she make the choice to allow him to enter. He wouldn’t try to steal in on her while she was asleep. Defenseless.
It wasn’t Mark. She knew the sound of him sneaking up the stairs. She had lived with it for years. She swallowed, nearly strangling on her fear as they creaked again.
She slid silently from the bed, grabbing the cordless phone from the cradle and crept across the room. She dialed nine one one quickly, knowing the call would go directly into the sheriff’s office.
“Sheriff.” Joshua Martinez answered the phone on the first ring.
It took long seconds for her to speak. Panic welled in her chest, made her stomach boil with fear. She was shaking, naked and fighting to hold onto her control
“Joshua, it’s Sarah. Sarah Tate.” Her voice shook. Another step was breached. Nearly to the top.
“Sarah. You okay?” Joshua was instantly on the alert, his voice cool, precise.
“I need you over here, someone’s in the house.” Her teeth were nearly chattering as she heard the last step reached. “Hurry. Hurry.”
“Sarah, I’m on the way. You stay on the line with Mary here.” She heard him lay the phone down, the rush of feet. She heard a footfall outside her bedroom door.
“Sarah, hon. Give Josh five minutes. He’ll be right there. Do you know who’s there, Sarah? Sarah, talk to me honey. Is everything still okay?”
Sarah couldn’t speak. The steps paused outside her door. Clutching the phone to her stomach, she slid across the floor, sliding quickly beneath her bed as the door began to inch open. She couldn’t breath. She could barely hear Mary’s frantic voice yelling through the phone pressed to her breast. She clearly saw the black sneakers that entered the room. She heard sirens in the distance, and knew Joshua was coming. What if he didn’t make it on time?
“Sarah, you’re in here.” The voice was mechanical, distorted. “Come out, come out, sweeting, wherever you are.”
She couldn’t breathe. She was terrified he could hear her heart pounding in her chest, threatening to smother her with terror. She shook with dread; with the impotence of realizing she was totally at the mercy of a stranger until the sheriff arrived. A stranger intent on causing her harm. She could feel the sick premonition of danger in the pit of her stomach, the stench of her own fear. Her hand covered her mouth as she fought the screams building in her chest. Dear God, why hadn’t she let Brock stay?
“Sarah, I’m gonna get you.” He didn’t move from the door but his voice wrapped around her with sinister threads of malice. “Come on out, bitch, let me see the Augusts boys’ new plaything.” The voice was soft, amused, yet filled with hatred.
He spoke the August name as though it were a curse. A vile, tarnished word that he had to force past his lips. Tremors of terror shook her body. She clenched her teeth hard to keep them from chattering, her eyes closing tightly as she fought the reality of this danger.
“Come on, whore. I know he’s fucked you. Let me show you what a man can do.” Sarah heard the sneer, the growl of obsessive loathing in his voice.
The sirens were getting closer. Josh would be here soon, she assured herself, fighting the screams welling in her throat. Just a few more minutes, that was all.
“Whore, did you call the cops on me?” Fury filled his voice now as the sounds began to fill the night. “I bet you did, didn’t you? That’s okay, bitch. You’ll pay for that too. Get ready, whore. To die.”
She screamed as the shots blasted through the room, the vibrations to the bed, the maniacal laughter as feet pounded down the hall and out of sight. The phone fell to the floor as she felt a burning pain across the top of her shoulder, felt the fear explode in her head like dynamite. She pushed her way out from under the bed dragging the comforter from the bed around her body. She shook so hard she couldn’t stand, she could only scoot in jerky movements to the opened door. She hid behind it quickly, her hand clamped over her mouth as she fought her hysterical screams. The shriek of the siren was in her yard, in her head. Raised voices, curses, the sound of gunfire echoing around the house.
She pressed herself closer into the corner, clutching her shoulder, wondering why it hurt so bad. She was cold. Or was she hot? She knew for a fact she was on the verge of hysteria.
“Brock,” her whimper shocked her. The need for him terrified her. She wouldn’t be safe again until Brock found her.
* * * * *
The ringing of the phone brought Brock from a restless sleep, lending ire to the growling curse that escaped his throat. Hell, he had hardly closed his eyes and already the damned phone was ringing?
“What?” He pulled the phone to his ear, checking the hands of the clock blearily.
