Absolute Love: A Hot, Romantic Suspense Series, Book 3 (The Carlisle Sisters) (8 page)

Then she heard something behind her.
 
A shuffling.
 
Then footsteps.

She didn't turn to see who was there as she increased her pace.
 
She hoped it was all in her head but as she walked faster the sound behind her grew more obvious as whoever, or whatever, it was worked to keep up with her.
 
Fear clutched her heart and she gave in to her terror and began to run.
 
Sure enough, the pounding of feet behind her echoed in her ears and she no longer questioned whether or not she was imagining the whole thing.
 

Why didn't she just stay at London's house?
 
She should have just heeded his advice instead of having to be so headstrong.
 
But it was too late for regrets.
 
She was in the thick of an intense situation and she had to figure a way to safety.

Jennifer arrived at the end of the empty street to find a chain-link fence that was padlocked shut.
 
Panicked, she screamed as whoever was chasing her grabbed her shoulder from behind.
 
She felt a heavy blow come down on the back of her head before she tumbled into what seemed like a bottomless pit.
 
Then there was nothing.

Chapter 4

London entered his home and tossed his lightweight, white jacket on the chair back.
 
His meeting had gone well; albeit longer than he had expected.
 
When he left the government building he'd been anxious to see Jen.
 
He'd had a strange feeling about her and, while he was sure it was unfounded, he wanted to make sure she was okay.
 

It was odd how attuned he was where she was concerned.
 
He could sense things about her that had taken years to discover about his past mates.
 
It was amazing to think that they had only been together for a few days.
 

He suspected that Jen was hiding a great deal of her basic elements.
 
But he felt that, at her core, she was a very good woman.
 
There had been times when he glimpsed her conceit, selfishness and spoiled attitude.
 
But he was sure that those unfavorable traits would fade given time with the right man.
 
A man who was willing to delve deeper into her soul to extract the finer qualities that would make her shine and soar.
 
A man like him.

Jennifer was a special lady.
 
She just needed to realize it.
 
He wanted to help her come to that realization.

"Jen!"
 
he called out into the empty house.

There was no answer.
 
He wasn't alarmed.
 
The house was big and she could be anywhere.

He searched the bottom floor first but didn't find her.
 
Then he moved upstairs and searched every bedroom, still unable to locate her.
 
His stomach began to twist.
 
He had asked her--no, he had
told
her--not to leave the premises.
 
She wouldn't have left, would she?
 
He would not be happy if she had.

He ran downstairs frantically and checked the exterior of the house.
 
Nothing.
 
He knew without looking any further that she had done exactly what he'd said not to.
 
Whether she was trying to rebel against his demands or simply hadn't taken him seriously, she was gone.

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called her.
 
It rang for what seemed like forever and then went to voicemail.
 
Trying to remain calm, he left a message telling her to call him immediately.
 
He disconnected the call and paused to consider his options.
 

He knew he couldn't just wait for her to return.
 
Of course he had to search for her.
 
But he had no idea where to look.
 
So, until he heard something from her, he would just have to comb every street until he found her.
 
His gut told him something was wrong but he pushed the thought out of his head and just focused on the task at hand.

He ran out of the house and into town.
 
People flooded the streets; vendors hawking their wares, tourists blocking his path and Tahitian children weaving through and around him, screaming and laughing.
 
Normally London would have been unaffected by the hectic activity.
 
But at the moment he was focused on one objective and all of the rest was just getting in his way.
 

He pushed through the people, heedless of his discourteous behavior.
 
He scoured one street after another but there was no sign of her.
 
She couldn't have gone far on foot.
 
So if she wasn't in town where the hell could she have gone?

He turned down the last side street.
 
It was narrow and dark, as if the sun had forgotten to shine on that particular avenue.
 
There wasn't a man, woman or child to be found.
 
He immediately felt a chill run down his spine.

London slowed his pace and looked around him, searching for any sign of a struggle.
 
He was well aware of the darker side of Tahiti.
 
There was crime, cheaters and unsavory characters in Tahiti just like anywhere else.
 
It was this element that had him worried.
 
And if they were going to lie in wait somewhere, this would be the place.

He approached a chain linked fence and stopped in vexation.
 
Jennifer couldn't have gone any further.
 
The lock obviously hadn't been opened in years and he knew she wasn't climbing any fences with the sandals he'd bought her.
 
He slammed his palm against the fence; wanting to yell in frustration.
 

"Where the hell is she?"
 
he muttered.

He turned to head back the way he had come when he heard a sound.
 
He paused and listened intently.
 
There it was again; a small cry near a grey dumpster.
 

He hurried to the trash bin and looked all around it without finding anything.
 
Then he heard the noise again.
 
It was coming from inside.
 
He threw the lid open and looked in.

"Jen!"

She was semi-conscious, spread over an assorted mess of garbage bags and greasy cardboard boxes with her eyes barely open.
 
The smell of the bin was unbearable and London reflexively turned his head to take a breath before leaning in and attempting to scoop her up.
 
Jennifer groaned and tried to push away from him.

"Jen, it's okay.
 
It's me, London.
 
I've got you, babe," he murmured.
 
"I've got you."

Without turning her head toward him or opening her eyes enough to see, she relaxed her arms and allowed him to lift her out.
 
Once firmly in his arms, he carried her away from the dumpster and gently placed her against the brick wall of a nearby building.
 
He put his arms around her and held her tightly.

"Jen," he said softly.
 
"Can you look at me?"
 

He placed his index finger under her chin to tilt her head up.
 

"Open your eyes, Jen."

Her eyelids fluttered for a moment but remained simply cracked.

"Try, Jen.
 
Please.
 
You can do it," he encouraged.

She heard his soft voice urging her to open her eyes.
 
Her lids were so heavy and she just wanted to sleep but she forced herself to try.
 
They crept open and the light poured in, burning and causing tears to spill on to her cheeks.
 
She fought to keep them open.

"That's my girl," London whispered.

"London?"

"I'm here, babe," he said, gently stroking her hair.

Jennifer suddenly felt the tremendous pain at the back of her head.
 
She lifted her trembling hand to the burning spot and squeezed her eyes shut once again.

"It hurts, London," she cried out.

"I'm sorry, Jen.
 
Let's get you to a doctor," he said empathetically.

London carried her two blocks to the local doctor amid curious onlookers.
 
Jennifer tucked her head into his shoulder and hid her eyes from the inquisitive stares.
 
When they arrived at the clinic they were immediately led into an examination room.

From the initial conversation between the doctor and London, Jennifer could tell that they knew each other very well.
 
She opened her gleaming blue eyes to see a medium height, young blond man smiling down at her.

"You're awake. Good.
 
I'm doctor Kevin Sanders.
 
Let's get some pictures of your head, shall we?"
 
he said frankly as he shined a light in her eyes and gently palpated the bump on the back of her head.

Jennifer was whisked through several hallways and into a room with a large, tube-like machine.
 
London lowered her down onto the cushioned platform as the doctor directed.

"This is an MRI machine and it will tell us if you have sustained an injury to your brain," Kevin said.
 
"I'm sure you haven't but we are going to make sure."

Jennifer nodded.
 
London was holding her hand.
 
He squeezed it for encouragement then let the doctor and his staff take over.
 
Jennifer closed her eyes as she felt herself being moved into the scanner.
 

"Remain completely still," Kevin said.

After what seemed like hours inside the machine, Jennifer was taken to a room with a bed while Dr. Sanders waited for the test results.
 
London sat next to her, holding her hand.
 
As they waited, he explained what had transpired at his meeting.
 
He knew it wasn't the right time but he wanted to keep her mind off of the pain by talking about something other than what had happened.
 

She wondered why he didn't question her about leaving his house.
 
She had acted against his wishes and had paid dearly for it, but he didn't even mention it.
 
That left Jennifer wondering when, or even
if
, the hammer would fall.
 

Dr. Sanders came into the room holding a chart.

"Miss Carlisle, you are very fortunate.
 
There has been no damage to your skull. You--"

"She's quite hardheaded," London said dryly.

Kevin ignored London's cryptic remark and continued.

"You do, however, have a concussion from the blow you received.
 
It must have been quite a shot.
 
Whoever struck you was trying to really hurt you.
 
Luckily you will survive with only a bad headache," Kevin explained.
 
"Here is a prescription that will alleviate the pain.
 
Take only two per day."

Kevin handed the prescription to London.

"Thank you, Kevin," London said gratefully, holding out his hand.

"No worries.
 
Let's play a round of golf soon," Kevin invited, accepting London's offer to shake.

"You're on," London grinned.

"Goodbye, Miss Carlisle.
 
Try to stay away from swinging hammers," Kevin smiled.

Jen smiled wanly.

"I will, Doctor.
 
And thank you," she said.

Kevin nodded then left the room.

"Let's get you home," London said softly.

He helped her sit up then moved her to the wheelchair that an assistant had brought in.

"Oh, I don't think I'll need that," she objected.

"My orders.
 
Try to adhere to them just this once," he said.

His tone was even but Jennifer could now sense the frustration behind it.
 
She didn't want to incite his ire even more so she complied, allowing him to wheel her out of the office.
 
Once on the street, he waved down a cab and assisted her into it.
 

They stopped by a pharmacy to fill the prescription then went back to London's house.
 
London paid the driver, carried Jennifer into the house and set her on the sofa in the salon.
 
When he returned from retrieving the wheelchair he began pacing in front of her.
 

Jennifer watched him apprehensively and steeled herself to his eventual eruption.
 
He still held the medication in his hand and he threw it into the adjacent chair in anger.
 
She eyed the bottle, wishing she could take a pill to ease the pounding in her head.
 
It was growing more intense by the moment, more due to anticipation of the coming explosion rather than pain from the injury.
 
London stopped pacing and turned to her.