Blackwood's Woman (8 page)

"Lieutenant George is afraid Lenny will somehow find out where the three of you have moved. He thinks Lenny will hunt y'all down."

"How could this have happened? When Lenny Plott went to prison, our nightmare was supposed to have ended. I won't—I can't live in fear. Not again. Not ever again!"

Joanna would never forget those first few weeks after her rape when she lived in fear the man would return and rape her again. Even after Lenny Plott had been arrested, she hadn't felt safe. To this day, she knew there was always a possibility that it could happen again, but she had learned to face the fear and put it in its proper place. She was careful, always cautious of strangers and new acquaintances.

She'd bought a gun and learned how to use it properly. She'd taken self-defense classes and had undergone months of therapy. No, by God, she would not allow Lenny Plott's escape to destroy the life she'd built here in Trinidad. She would not run scared.

"Joanna, are you still there, dear? Please, say something."

"I'm all right. I'm staying where I am. I'm safe here. I'll tell Elena about Lenny Plott. I should have told her a long time ago, but I wanted to pretend it had never happened. Out here, no one knows about the rape."

"But what if Lenny finds you?"

"He won't." Joanna tried to reassure her mother, but in the back of her mind, doubts swarmed like angry killer bees. "I'll tell Elena and she can explain to Alex.

There are dozens of ranch hands around this place, macho guys who know how to use guns. And Trinidad is a small town. Everybody knows everybody. If a stranger were to show up, I'd hear about it."

"Lieutenant George is going to call you later today," Helene said. "He's promised to keep us updated. They … the police have a statewide manhunt under way. They're going to catch that monster and put him back in prison where he belongs."

"Yes, of course, they will. He probably won't get out of Richmond."

"I wish you'd come home."

"I'm safer here, and Trinidad is my home now."

"Call me every day, just to let me know—" Helene's voice cracked.

"Every day. I promise."

"I love you, Joanna. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Mother," Joanna said. "And I love you."

"Take care, dear. And let me know if there's anything I can do."

"I will, Mother. Goodbye."

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10/31/2009will, Mother. Goodbye."

Blackwood's Woman

"Goodbye."

Joanna hung up the phone slowly, then slumped down on the apricot-gold leather sofa. For just a minute she felt completely numb, as if her body and mind had frozen instantly. Then, just as quickly, the feeling returned. She shivered, suddenly cold.

Her hands trembled. The quivering sensation spread up her arms, down her legs. A tight fist clutched her chest. She couldn't breathe.

Dear God, no, please, no. A sour taste, salty and hot, rose in her throat. Memories

—horrendous memories—flashed through her mind. Memories she had buried so deep she thought they could never resurface. She had spent five long, difficult years recovering from that night, putting every thought of Lenny Plott and what he'd done to her out of her mind. Forgetting had been the most difficult thing she'd ever done, but she had forced herself to forget, had forced herself to go on with her life. She was too strong to allow what had happened to her defeat her.

Joanna broke out in a cold sweat. Her heart thundered at a frantic pace. Doubling over, she clutched her knees, drew them up against her body and rocked back and forth. Heavy, painful tears lodged in her throat.

"If you scream, I'll kill you." He had whispered the words in her ear as he held
the sharp knife blade to her throat.

"No! Don't do this to yourself," Joanna cried.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to capture her tears, to stop them from falling.

Piercing blue eyes glared down at her. Hard, bruising hands clutched her
breasts. A bony knee thrust between her legs. The strong odor of stale whiskey
breath covered her mouth. She tried to shove him away, tried to scream. The knife
blade nicked her throat. Blood trickled down onto her chest.

Joanna's eyes flew open. She shook from head to toe as she kept rocking back and forth. "Stop this! Don't remember! Please, don't, remember… Don't—"

The loud pounding on the front door sounded muffled to Joanna's ears, overpowered by the sound of her own heartbeat. Her mind was so filled with pain, the pain of trying not to remember, that it took her a few minutes to realize that someone was knocking at her door.

"Jo? Hey, Jo. Are you about ready to leave?" Elena called out as she walked into the living room.

Elena. Her friend. Someone who cared about her. She mustn't let Elena find her like this. Move, dammit, move! Sit up straight. Stop crying.

"My God, Jo, what's wrong?" Elena rushed over to the sofa. Dropping to her knees, she grabbed Joanna by the shoulders. "What's happened? Are you sick?"

Joanna managed to shake her head, but when she tried to respond, she couldn't.

"Are you hurt?" Elena asked.

Shaking her head again, Joanna opened her mouth and tried to speak. The sound was a squeaky gasp.

"Try to tell me what happened." Elena shook Joanna soundly. "Come on, talk to me, Jo. You're frightening me." Elena reached out and wiped the tears off Joanna's cheeks, then slipped her arms around her and hugged her.

Joanna gulped several times, then groaned. Her body relaxed. She eased her hands off her knees and slid her feet onto the floor. Elena held on tight, continuing to hug her.

"Five—five years ago, I was raped," Joanna whispered.

"Oh, Jo … Jo. I'm so sorry."

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10/31/2009 h, Jo … Jo. I'm so sorry."

Blackwood's Woman

"I left Virginia and came out here to New Mexico to start a new life." Joanna hugged Elena, then pulled away from her.

"I didn't want anyone out here to know. I should have told you, after we became such good friends, but by then I'd put what happened behind me. I worked so hard at trying to forget."

Elena rubbed Joanna's arms. "What happened today? Did you have some sort of flashback?"

"My mother called. It seems the man who raped me… Oh, God!" Joanna jumped up off the sofa and paced back and forth. "This can't be happening!"

"What can't be happening?" Elena asked, standing and following Joanna around the room in her frantic stroll.

"The man who raped me—Lenny Plott—was what the police refer to as a serial rapist. I was his eleventh victim. After he raped his twelfth victim, the police caught him."

"Then he's in prison, isn't he?" Elena swirled about in front of Joanna, forcing her to halt. "Isn't he?"

"I testified against him. Claire Andrews, Libby Felton, Melody Horton and I. We made sure he would never rape another woman."

"I know it took a lot of guts to do what you four did. But you did the right thing."

"Yes, we did the right thing," Joanna said. "And when our rapist was sentenced to life in prison, we all went on with our lives. Melody stayed on in Virginia and finished college. Claire moved back home to Missouri. Libby just left town. We never heard from her again."

"And you came to Trinidad."

"Elena, Lenny Plott escaped from prison."

"What?"

"He escaped about forty-eight hours ago." Joanna covered her mouth with her hands.

Elena grabbed Joanna's hands and pulled them away from her face. "What are you not telling me?"

"He kidnapped Melody Horton and murdered her. The day the judge sentenced him, he swore that somehow he'd get free and hunt us all down. He swore he'd kill us."

Elena put her arms around Joanna, hugging her fiercely. "You're safe here, on the ranch, with us. He doesn't know where you are. He can't find you here."

"But what if he does?" Joanna, her eyes dry and dazed, looked at her best friend.

"I'm scared, Elena. I'm so scared."

Elena rubbed Joanna's back. "I know. I know. But everything's going to be all right. J.T. will know exactly how to handle this situation. He'll take care of—"

"J.T.? No, please, I don't want your brother to know about this."

"Don't be silly," Elena said. "J.T. knows more about protecting someone than anybody in the whole wide world. He was a Secret Service agent until he got shot in the head and blinded in one eye. For the past six years, he's been a partner in a private security agency."

"Mother wants me to come home. Back to Virginia. She's offered to hire a bodyguard for me. I'm sure, if I asked her, she'd hire someone and send him out here."

"But don't you see, there's no need to hire another bodyguard when we've got J.T.

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"B

10/31/2009ut don't you see, there's no need to hire anoth Blackwood's Woman er bodyguard when we've got J.T.

It's what he does for a living."

"No, Elena, I—"

"We're not going to argue about this. You're going to stay here on the ranch and live every day as normally as you possibly can. J.T. is an expert on private security.

He'll know what to do to keep you safe."

"I can't tell J.T. that I was—"

"Don't sell my big brother short. He'll understand. You can count on him. Trust me, Jo. Please. And trust J.T."

Trust J.T.? How could she trust him? How could she trust any man?

"This agency in Atlanta," Joanna said, "are there other agents? Someone J.T.

could send back here when he returns? Mother will pay for—"

"What do you mean when he returns! Once I tell him about your situation, he'll stay here and guard you himself."

"I wouldn't ask him to do that." She wasn't sure what she feared most, Lenny Plott finding out where she was or J.T. Blackwood agreeing to act as her bodyguard. If he found her, Plott could kill her. But if she allowed herself to become involved with J.T., he could completely destroy her emotionally.

* * *

J.T. dismounted, dropped the reins and spoke softly to Washington, who followed behind him while he walked along the bank of the stream—his favorite spot on the ranch, high in the hills, secluded and quiet, close to nature.

The rage inside him simmered. A hot fury that he barely controlled consumed him.

Part of the anger he felt was directed at himself for being such a macho jerk, such a total idiot. He should have known there was more to Joanna Beaumont's skittish nature and wariness than just an instant dislike of him. His damn ego had gotten in the way of his usual keen perception. His ego and his male libido.

He wasn't sure he had ever wanted a woman the way he wanted Joanna.

J.T. pulled his rifle from its leather holster attached to the saddle and removed the cloth bag he'd hung over the saddle horn. He ordered Washington to stay, then began a slow, steady climb up the mountainside. When he reached the summit, he braced his rifle against the side of a huge rock, then opened the cloth bag and removed a varied assortment of bottles and cans. He lined them up across the top of the rock formation, then lifted his rifle and walked backward, close to the edge of the summit. He aimed his rifle and fired repeatedly, destroying the row of inanimate objects he pretended were Lenny Plott. When he finished, he stood there and stared up at the blue sky, the afternoon sun blinding in its intensity.

"Joanna was raped five years ago."
J.T. heard his sister's voice.
"She testified
against her rapist. He has escaped from prison and already killed one of the
women who testified against him. He swore he'd hunt all four women down and
kill them."

J.T. let out a bloodcurdling cry as savage and brutal as the primitive emotions he felt.

"I told her that she'd be safe here on the ranch. I assured her that you'd know
what to do to protect her."

Protect Joanna.
Yeah,
he knew all about protecting people. He'd spent most of his life acting as someone's bodyguard. He had laid his life on the line every day he'd been a member of the country's Secret Service.

After the army and college, he'd spent more than a year undergoing exams, F:/…/Beverly Barton - Blackwood's Wo…

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Aft

10/31/2009 er the army and college, he'd spent more Blackwood's Woman than a year undergoing exams, interviews and a complete investigation into his background before being hired in Washington. He had served time in field offices from Omaha to New Orleans, which had taken him from tediously boring assignments to stakeouts of underworld counterfeiting operations. He had guarded presidential candidates more than once, and had even pulled White House detail for several years.

His last assignment had nearly cost him his life—had cost him the vision in his left eye. But it had gotten him the Medal of Valor and an early retirement.

For the past six years, he'd worked with Sam Dundee, a man who had become his best friend. Dundee's Private Security was one of the most respected and successful private security businesses in the country.

Oh, yeah, J.T. Blackwood was a security expert. Acting as a bodyguard was what he did best. There was only a couple of small problems associated with guarding Joanna Beaumont. The woman hated him, although he didn't much blame her. And he wanted her, but didn't have the vaguest idea what a woman who'd been brutally raped would need from a lover.

He'd be a fool to take this assignment. He was far too personally involved. Despite Elena's insistence that he take the job himself, J.T. wondered if it wouldn't be wise to bring in another man from the agency. Simon Roarke was available and Gabriel Hawk would be finishing up an assignment within a week.

But then, J.T. doubted an around-the-clock bodyguard was needed at this point.

At least not a professional. There were enough hands on the Blackwood ranch to see that Joanna was kept under watch. If and when Lenny Plott discovered her whereabouts would be the time for a trained bodyguard to step in.