Dangerous Times (2 page)

“
He’s violent, ma’am?” the operator asked.

“
Yeah, you could say that,” she muttered. Looking around, Tamara moved to the bathroom and slipped inside as Damien began to pound on the door. He was alternating between promises and threats as she shut and locked herself into the other room.

“
Are you somewhere safe, ma’am? Do you know if he has a weapon?”

“
I locked the bedroom door but it’s a newer model and likely won’t hold up if he really decides to get through. I’m in my bathroom now which has an old, solid wood door on it with a really good lock, it should hold a little longer. As for a weapon, I have no clue and I don’t really think I should ask.” A crashing sound reached her ears. “Shit, he just broke through the bedroom door.”

“
Units are on their way, ma’am. Stay on the line with me,” the operator told her.

Like she was going to do anything else. Rolling her eyes, she looked around her bathroom, for anything she could use as a weapon preferably. Damien wasn’t likely to use a gun. He much preferred his fists and that up close and personal touch. Asshole.

As if hearing her thoughts he began to bang on the door, hard. She was sure he kicked it, cursing violently when that didn’t gain him access. Smirking, she threw the bird to him and thanked her lucky stars she’d been slow to replace the old door.

“
Is that the intruder I hear, ma’am?” the operator asked.

“
Yeah, that’s him,” she said, keeping her voice down. “Where are the police?” she asked. She was nervous as hell the longer she had to wait.

“
Three minutes out, ma’am.”

Three minutes. Not that long and yet a fucking eternity.

Frowning at the door, Tamara moved closer to press her ear to the wood. She could hear rummaging on the other side but didn’t know what Damien was up to. With the sound of footsteps getting closer she backed off. Good thing, too. He was now hitting the door with something a hell of a lot harder than just his fist or foot.

Running the inventory of her bedroom through her head, she tried to figure out what the fuck he might be using. She froze as she landed on the answer. “I think he’s using one of the tripods for my photography to get through the door.”

“
Units are two minutes out, ma’am,” the operator said.

Wood cracked. He was fucking hacking at the door. Damn it, he was using her big one to get through. Not good. That thing had cost her an arm and a leg, for fuck’s sake.

Shards of wood flew past her face. “He’s through the door!” she yelled at the operator as she backed up.

When he snaked his arm through the hole he’d made, she cursed and put the phone down. She was going to need two hands for this. The door opened and there he was, dropping the mangled tripod to the ground.

“
Tamara, Tamara, Tamara,” he said shaking his head. “Bitch, you and I are going to be having words.”

“
I only have two for you, Damien.” She smiled and lifted the can of aerosol hairspray and the lighter. Thank God for hair that resisted styling and a desire for candles during her bath time. “Fuck you.” She started spraying the hairspray and hit the lighter. Holy shit! It actually worked like on TV and in the movies. Not exactly the time to discover that, but hell, she could have thrown it at him had it not worked.

His scream made her gut clench, but she kept pressure on the nozzle. Turning her head away, a mistake she’d realize later, Tamara closed her eyes. Her second mistake.

It must have thrown her aim off a little, because suddenly the can of hairspray was gone and she was getting a fist to the face. Sirens could be heard far in the distance. Shit, more than two minutes you asshole, she thought in relation to the operator.

Covering her face, Tamara rolled to try and protect herself as his fists rained down on her body. Then she stiffened and looked down at her body at the sharp pain. A blade stuck out of her belly. “You stabbed me?” she asked, stunned.

“
You are mine, bitch,” he snarled at her. Part of his face was blistering from what she’d done. “And that means I can do whatever I want with you.” He twisted the knife and she screamed in agony.

“
Mine,” he grinned at her.

****

Three years later...

Jerking awake, drenched in sweat, Tamara slapped a hand to the touch lamp on her bedside table. As light permeated the pre-dawn darkness, she pressed a hand to her stomach. Damien had been sentenced to five years in jail. But everyone claimed he was a changed man, had found God, and they expected he’d get out early for good behavior.

Yeah, psychopathic fucking freak that he was, he likely would.

While she had nightmares nearly every single night, he would get out of jail sooner than later, and there seemed to be jack shit she could do about it.

Rubbing at the scar that only hurt if she pushed herself too far physically, or right after a nightmare in a ghostly echo, she sat up and threw her legs over the bed. The clock said just before six. Not a surprise, given the muddy light coming through the drapery.

Sighing, Tamara got up and headed for the bathroom. A hot shower and she’d feel more awake. She knew it, especially after three years of doing it. The same shit nearly every night. The same shit every morning when she was jolted awake.

Twenty minutes later, she was in her kitchen with a cup of coffee in her hand. Staring out over the buildings that were her condo’s neighbors, she sipped at the strong brew.

Frowning when the phone rang, she checked the time. Ten to seven, time had slipped past as she daydreamed. Picking up her cell with a muttered curse to herself, Tamara answered, “Yeah?”

“
They’re letting him out on parole,” the familiar voice said. Rhonda, her best friend and the one person in the world who had gotten her through the attack and the horrific aftermath.

While Tamara loved her mother and even adored her stepfather, she hadn’t been ready to put up with their stifling and smothering natures. She’d had Rhonda there to help her when she’d gotten out of the hospital and that was all she’d needed. She’d spent some time with her mom, but after two weeks, it had be way more than enough.

She’d wanted to get on with her life and being coddled hadn’t been part of the plan.

Having Damien out on parole was most fucking definitely not part of the plan. “What do you mean?” she asked, her heart in her throat. Pushing a hand through her long blonde hair, Tamara let out a shaky breath.

“
The fucking parole board believed that he’s seen the error of his ways and has found God. He’s not an idiot. You know that. He’s got the psychiatrist believing all his bullshit. The board did do one thing that makes me slightly happier, and only because I raised a stink, along with the lawyer. He’s got to wear a tracking bracelet for one year. He’s permitted in his home and on the property, to his parole officer three times a week and to a place of employment yet to be decided and approved of.”

That made the tight feeling in her chest ease a little, but not enough. “Fuck,” she breathed out. Setting her cup down, because her hand was shaking so badly she was afraid she’d burn herself, Tamara slid down the front of the lower cabinets to sit on the floor.

“
I know,” Rhonda said quietly.

“
So he’s going to be free. Free to pretty much figure out a way to make my life miserable.”

“
To a degree,” Rhonda muttered.

Yeah, they both knew that Damien was smart enough to find a way to work with that damned bracelet. He’d be quiet for a while once he was out. But he’d be working to find Tamara. Where she lived, where she was currently working, and he’d find a way to ensure his job was somewhere that she was in the middle of his travel path. With his friends and connections, he could get a job nearly anywhere in the city. Rhonda had told her Damien’s friends believed one of two things about Tamara. That she’d provoked him into the attack and therefore deserved the punishment he’d doled out. Or she was trying to make him punish her for her “whoring” ways and therefore deserved it. Either way, according to
them
, she deserved what she got for being so faithless.

They were such a lovely bunch of assholes.

“
When’s he getting out?” she asked, pushing up from the floor.

“
Three days, give or take a couple of hours to process everything,” Rhonda said. “Listen, I know you hate the idea of getting some security or a bodyguard…”

Sighing as her friend trailed off, Tamara knew she would have to rethink that. She’d survived the “friends” and their crap. But she wasn’t going to be able to put up with Damien and his psychological warfare. “Yeah, but I’m rethinking things. Send me some names and numbers, Rhonda.” It was time to plan ahead.

Chapter Two

Sliding his key card down the reader, Shawn Camden pulled open the front door and stepped inside. The two story warehouse was home to his baby, C&M Security. Actually, it was his and his best friend’s. Robyn Matthews, his partner and co-owner, was a woman that didn’t let anyone walk over her. Ex-military like himself, and many of those they hired, she wasn’t a delicate flower by any stretch.

Nodding to Chandra Devons as he stepped up to her desk, he took the message slips she handed over. She was both the receptionist and the one that kept them all in line. She was also their first and most important line of defense. Chandra was a tough little thing, trained as well as any of the bodyguards that came through the doors, and yet she looked like a china doll. Which she used to her advantage.

“
Is Rob in yet?” he asked, flipping through the messages marked important. One thing he loved about Chandra, she knew what was actually important, as opposed to what clients claimed was important.

“
She was, but she had to rush out to go and see to Grant.” Chandra’s lips were twitching when he glanced up.

Chuckling, since he had a good idea just why Robyn had to rush off to see her fiancé, he cocked a brow. “Oh? Really?” He felt his own lips twitching.

“
Yup, something about a pair of handcuffs,” Chandra nodded, pursing her lips.

“
Oh, God, too much information.” He slapped his hands to his ears. “Gad, why? Why would you tell me that shit?”

Chandra laughed at his antics. “Because you do shit like that, too, Shawn.”

“
You,” he pointed a finger at her. “You are a horrible human being. Now I’m going to have that thought running around my brain all day.”

“
Well, you could always find someone to handcuff and scrub the other thoughts out,” she called after him as he headed for the stairs.

Not a bad idea, really. Shaking his head at her, Shawn headed for his office, throwing a nod to John Timmons, one of their trainers and ex-Special Forces, as they passed on the stairs.

He loved the building that was the home for the security business he and Robyn had set up. It was all wide-open spaces, with high ceilings and lots of windows. The second floor was office spaces for the staff, meeting rooms and a couple conference rooms where they held their general meetings.

The main floor was reception, the gym, and the training rooms. It also held the shooting range where they all got together to practice or try out the newest gadgets safely. He’d managed to negotiate the price of the place for a steal, and unlike most of his neighbors, owned the building outright.

Of course, he also owned many of the neighbors buildings, too. A man had to have a plan for retirement after all. Especially a guy that got shot at, punched, or even blown up. Attempted anyway, on occasion. While he might be the boss and co-owner, he didn’t shirk on going out in the field and taking jobs. He was too much of an adrenaline junkie not to.

Flopping into his chair in his corner office—being top dog had its perks—Shawn scrubbed a hand through his dark brown hair. While he kept it short normally, it was definitely starting to get a bit longer than he liked on top. Shaggy as his mother would call it.

Grinning at thoughts of his mother, he flipped back through the message slips, really looking at them. One from Rhonda Delacour, a detective with vice for the SFPD, had him pausing. Picking up his phone, he dialed the number she’d left.

“
Delacour,” her voice was rich and a little gruff.

“
Detective, this is Shawn Camden from C&M Security. You left me a message,” he said.

“
One sec,” she told him. She muttered something to someone else and then he got to sit and listen to her moving and, at a guess, stepping outside. If the sudden street noise was anything to go by.

“
Sorry about that,” she said. “Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.”

“
Hey, we at C&M Security are all about helping our brothers and sisters in blue when we can. What’s up detective?”

He could hear her huff out a breath. “Okay, look. My best friend is in for a rough ride soon. Her psycho ex-boyfriend is getting out on parole in the next couple of days. The shit has friends that can make her life miserable, have in fact. He tried to kill her and got put away, but not nearly long enough in anyone’s opinion. His daddy pulled some big ass favors and got the sentence reduced. So he’s getting out. He has to wear the bracelet, but he’s a smart fuck and will figure out a way to track her down and then proceed to fuck with her head. She’s finally getting back to a normal life and…” Rhonda heaved disgusted breath.