Protective Instincts (4 page)

Looking toward the door, obviously as a direct hint, she smiled wanly at him "I'd already planned on it. I'll get a new cell phone, too. Now go home. I have to face more parents tomorrow."

Daylight wasn't far away.

Following her down the hall to her front door, he thought again, how appealing the lady looked sleep-rumpled.

* * * *

Douglas couldn't believe the police had shown up so early, but that could work in his favor. Breaking in and attacking the teacher tonight had been tempting. His plan wasn't written in stone. The fear in her voice pleased him. The actual executions he'd performed over the years had given him a rush but never this kind of high.

Setting the stage was as important as doing the deed. Only a master at his craft could create a diversion so clever. By the time he was done with this job, no one would know who was responsible.

The plan this time offered the aspect of entertainment. Once she told her blonde friend about the calls there would be a trail to a non-existent stalker. No one had fingered him yet. No one ever would. Nothing would get in his way. He wouldn't allow it.

The man in the black truck had shown up twice. Was he the teacher's lover? For weeks, Douglas had watched and noted her every move. There had been no men at her house until tonight. He'd need to learn more about this possible problem.

* * * *

Before Brit left for school the next morning, she had worked a makeup miracle after almost no sleep. She'd pulled out all stops and used every trick in her repertoire. Around noon, she bolted down a sandwich and teacher's lounge coffee, otherwise called sludge. At least it was warm and packed a caffeine punch. Checking her mirror before her next parent conference assured her that her concealer and foundation had lasted the first half of the day, barely. They were beginning to wear thin, as was her patience.

Brit sensed the presence of Sam Samuels before she looked up from her notes to enjoy the sight of him. His no-frills Old Spice scent was only part of the aura that was all strength.

She heard him clear his throat across the room. Could last night be responsible for the new closeness she felt toward him? Surely, she was reacting to the protection he offered. His relaxed stance exuded confidence. His smile set off fireworks in her system.

"Please, come in and have a seat." She glanced in the direction of desks directly in front of hers
. Take control of the meeting. Tell the other person where to sit.
She'd need all the help she could muster for this conference.

"Let's talk about Sean." She called on her an in-charge, classroom manner. Was that the best she could do?

"Yes, ma'am." His deep voice held amusement.

She was so distracted by the memories of his charge to protect her she had to look away from his face. Making eye contact wasn't a good idea. Her pulse seemed a little fast, her chest tight.

He acted as though he had forgotten their late night meeting. He hadn't even asked how she was. Casual, in a long sleeved, white dress shirt and jeans, Sam Samuels should be in an ad selling cigarettes or beer, maybe boots. His thick hair looked slightly mussed.

She didn't usually become distracted when discussing a student. She had never faced a man who had suddenly become her protector, the man who had shown up on her doorstep after two in the morning, looking like he'd dragged himself out of bed to come to her.
How would it feel to wake up beside this man
?

The undercurrents were strong, new.

"Sean talks about your class a lot." Sam shifted his body in the student desk. He seemed all energy, like a man who seldom sat still.

"Sean's grades have improved in the past month." She smiled. "His crush on Angela, you knew, of course?" At his nod she continued. "Well, it seems to be working in his favor. She's an excellent student in language arts and he wants to impress her."

"Yeah, I know." Sam grinned. "For the first time I've had to limit his telephone lounging."

"Telephone lounging?"

"Uh huh, there are long periods of silence, then monosyllabic responses. He lounges on chairs, his bed, or the floor, looking like he'll go catatonic."

"Oh, yes, I remember relaxing in positions my body won't even do anymore. My parents were sure I'd hurt myself or freeze in those positions. Today I definitely would."

"Me, too. Old football injuries. "

She needed to end this conference before she started imagining Sam in lounging positions. Too late. She took a sheet of paper from a neat stack and reached across her desk. "Here is a list of assignments every student needs to complete during the month, remind him so he'll keep his grades as good as they are now."

When she'd handed him the papers he reached in his shirt pocket for a pair of glasses. She'd considered him the jock type, rugged, virile. The wire-rimmed glasses made him so very appealing.

"Have you always wanted to be a teacher?" Sam glanced up from the assignment list.

"Oh, yes, since I was in pre-school, at least." She grinned so hard her face hurt. Her chest tightened further. "Have you always wanted to be a security specialist?"

"I wanted to be either a professional football player or a school coach. Halfway through college, I decided against either."

"I see."

"Well, Sean's car is being serviced, and he should be through with football practice. Guess I'd better go." Sean's dad stood, twisting to remove his man-sized body from the student-sized desk.

Brit smiled. His awkwardness made him seem almost normal. She was reluctant to let him go, but she was ready to finish her conferences so she could get her stuff together and head home to her private space.

Too bad, she felt like her home had been violated.

The police were supposed to go by this morning and check all outside doors and windows for signs of forced entry. They had promised to send an officer by the school to tell her if they had found anything suspicious. No one had been by and she hadn't had time to call the station yet.

She was tempted to ask Mr. Samuels to follow her home, but if he

had to take Sean home that might alert the kid to her problem. He'd want to help, maybe even mention it to someone. She didn't need a student involved in this, whatever it was. Besides, someone would likely report it somewhere like Facebook or a gossip website. As far as she knew, she had managed to stay off of them. Someone would have commented if there had been anything about her. Other teachers weren't that lucky.

Brit stood and extended her hand to him as she had each parent before him. His hand was callused and strong and warm. Her skin almost gleamed in its paleness against his tan. When she looked up to his face, the tension of his jaw spoke volumes. His eyes left no doubt he'd felt the intimacy of their clasped hands.

He removed the glasses and slid them into his shirt pocket.

"Bye, now," he said, then turned and left.

Two hours and three conferences later she had to rub her palms against her legs when she thought of heading home alone after five o'clock. Would Mr. Samuels be in the parking lot to offer her an escort home, tonight? She probably wouldn't give him an argument this time. For the first time she dreaded the drive home. Her caller had stolen so much from her. How long had he stolen her privacy without her knowledge? She certainly didn't feel safe anymore.

He'd looked about to say something personal earlier but he didn't. Their conference should have been simple. It would have been, if she had been able to say what she needed to say. Sean was doing well. Simple enough. Time to pack up and head out to the old Mustang. She needed rest. She needed to look into hiring a detective to find out who was watching her house. Mr. Samuels could likely install security cameras to catch the man who knew too much about her house and her habits.

* * * *

Sean and Sam sat in Sam's black truck, ready to leave the Florence High School parking lot. This had been a long day and the parking lot lights had come on.

"Dad, can we have pizza tonight?"

"After the practice you put in, you deserve it. I'm not sure I can handle it, though." Sam felt gut punched, pole-axed, wrung out, hung up to dry. He'd met Ms. Roberts to discuss Sean's grades and found his mind on her, frightened and vulnerable. Should he offer to follow her home tonight? His premonitions were quiet, at least for now.

Maybe she had been right about the caller having made his point.

Her gray silk blouse today had reeked of good taste and modesty. The way it draped over her breasts had him wanting to caress the soft fabric and what it hid. Wisps of ginger toned hair had escaped her French twist, all business but soft. He liked the tousled look. He'd wanted to touch her hair last night, with its fresh-from-bed look. He had needed to keep her safe and secure.

"Dad, Dad?" Sean interrupted Sam's daydream. Oops, he must have missed something.

"Yes, son?"

"I need to go to Ms. Roberts' room and get a book. If I get an A on this project I can make an A for the semester."

"Do you have to get it now?" Sam didn't think he'd be able to look at her violet eyes without thinking about the fear he'd seen in them. He didn't think he'd be able to leave her again with his cool intact. He certainly didn't need Sean watching him.

"She's probably gone." Sam's hand was on the door handle, his keys in the lock already.

"No, Dad, her car's still here. That real old Mustang over there is hers. Tough, huh?"

"Yeah. She wasn't happy when I followed her home last night to be sure she made it."

"Dad, you didn't!"

"Well, it looks like car trouble waiting to happen."

"Dad, she's had that car since she was in high school."

"She basically told me to mind my own business … that she could take care of herself. But she didn't even have a cell phone in case of trouble." Sam left out mention of the late night visit and the reason for it. There was no reason to worry his son with information the teacher might not want spread around.

The hair on the back of Sam's neck spiked. Stupid feeling. His gut hurt. He was light headed. Damn! This time he was near panic. This premonition was a bad one.
Oh, shit!

"Come on, son," Sam called over his shoulder as he headed back toward the school building. His heart raced, his breath sawed through his lungs and out. "Let's get that book and see that she leaves with us. She doesn't need to be here alone this late."

Sam didn't slow down as Sean called to him, "Dad, there are coaches and football players parked on the other side of the building. She's not really …."

CHAPTER THREE

Brit was so tired she could hardly see straight. She stared toward the chalkboard, thankful she has saved one of the roll-away green boards when dry erase boards replaced the old-fashioned ones. The smells of chalk dust and pencil shavings usually made her feel at home. Some things didn't seem to change. But she'd swear Sam's spicy scent lingered. Her stomach churned.

"Guess I'm just too hungry. I should've gone to supper with Julie. She'd have waited 'til I finished my last conference," Brit mumbled. "A relaxing, cold Strawberry Daiquiri or two would taste wonderful, with extra whipped cream."

Julie was the reason they were teaching at the same school. Her best friend since childhood had drawn her from her depression. There hadn't been time to tell Julie about last night's call or even about Sean's dad following her home. Julie wouldn't believe the strange story about the gifts, or the obscene call, or about a man showing up on Brit's doorstep so late.

The last parent had been a My-kid-is-a-good-student-and-I-can't-believe-he's-failing parent. A look at her grade book and his most recent test score had made a small dent in the mother's superior attitude. The parent had left with a copy of the same list of assignments Brit had given each parent, with a deadline for completing the work for even partial credit. She closed her laptop and put into its carrying case.

At a sound in the hall Brit glanced up as Mr. James, the custodian, stuck his head in the doorway to warn her to wait for him to escort her from the building. She pulled the old window shades down to the lowest window, shutting out much of the parking lot light. Standing behind her desk, Brit lifted her purse from a cabinet drawer. After checking her desk drawers she glanced up as the lights went out, leaving her room almost dark. Who would've cut off the light when she was visible from the door? She glanced up to see the large silhouette of a man standing in the lit doorway.

"Mr. James? I'm in here and I still need the light, so could you please cut it back on for a minute?" Brit asked. The silhouette was silent, looming. "Wait – you're not Mr. James. Who are you?"

The dark figure moved silently toward Brit. She could read menace in his stance, the predatory way he moved. Her throat seemed to close for seconds as danger stared her in the eye. No one else should have been in the building this late.

"Who are you?" Brit repeated, her gut churning. She could see part of his harsh, handsome face but didn't recognize him. She glanced around the room. Not a weapon in sight. She tried to keep her voice calm and authoritative. "Look, you'll have to come back tomorrow if you need a conference. It's after hours."

"Don't you even know who I am?" a petulant, low-pitched voice murmured. "I'm disappointed, Sugar." He arched a bushy blond eyebrow.

His voice filled Brit with revulsion. Certain he was toying with her; she moved from behind her desk, grabbed her purse and tote bag.
Please, God, let Mr. James be back soon
. Would anyone hear her if she screamed or would it just make her tormentor angry?
Show no fear. Show no fear.
Her brothers had taught her to defend herself against stronger opponents. She could stall this man until she could get past him.

"After the gifts I sent you last night I expected a warmer welcome from you. I went through a lot of trouble to please you," he drawled. "You weren't very friendly." He crossed muscular arms across a broad chest.

"Why would you send me gifts? I don't know you." She tried to sound reasonable, struggled to control her breathing. If only she could get him to talk maybe he'd let her go. "Maybe if I could get to know you better?"

He shook his head. "You called your boyfriend and the cops on me. That wasn't nice. A woman should show appreciation when a man does romantic stuff. I'm here,
ma belle donna,
to collect."

There was no mistaking the threat in the term of endearment as the stranger moved closer. He didn't act like he'd heard what she said. She chewed her bottom lip so hard it hurt. He stopped in front of the desk. She eased away from the only protection in her room; certain he could read her mind. She needed to get around him to the door. He stared at her while he wrapped the end of a handkerchief around a large, hairy hand.

He was still too close for her to get to the door. Brit raised her voice and ordered, "Leave, or I'll call --"

"Don't bother, Sugar," the man purred. "We're alone at last. I can do all the things you've wanted me to do but were too shy to ask."

Brit's pulse raced. She had to escape now, while she could. Oh, God, she had to get out of this!

He chuckled. "Nobody's gonna disturb us, now. That old man's not coming back for you. I saw to it. We got the place all to ourselves all night."

Brit screamed as she dashed toward the door. Pain shot through her left arm as a vise-like grip jerked her back. Her purse fell to the carpeted floor. She swung her tote toward his head but he snatched it and threw it across the room, spilling its contents. Now there was no way for her to get to her keys and use them as a weapon to draw blood.

"You aren't going anywhere until I'm done with you," the attacker snarled in her ear. His good guy mask back in place, he shook his head while he stroked the place he'd grabbed.

"Look what you made me do, Sugar. You shouldn't run from me. It brings out my mean side." His eyes narrowed, his kind expression changed. "Now why don't you shut the Hell up? Women who don't do as they are told make me hurt them. I can shut that smart mouth."

Pain clouded her vision. Should she beg? Should she pretend to go along with him, just 'til she could try to get away?

"Bet you're good with those luscious lips. Thinking about the things you could do to my cock with your tongue makes me harder than a rock."

Revulsion filled her as the assailant whirled her and yanked both hands behind her, pushing her trembling body flush with his. She knew the fear must show but she brazened it, she had to.

"Get your filthy hands off me!" Brit yelled in his face. She tried to twist away from his grasp, but was rewarded by a slap that left her head ringing. If she could push away enough to lift her knee to his crotch, she might be able to escape. God, the man was strong.

"I warned you! Don't cross me again," he sneered. "You can't get away from me." His fast breathing and the grinding of his erection against her belly sent a bolt of fear searing through Brit, fear like none she had ever known before. She tried to kick him.

He dodged her efforts like he knew where she'd aim. He laughed at her.

This cannot be happening to me. Things like this happen to other people in the news, to strangers. I'll wake up soon, wishing for dreams of protective Sam.

Her attacker's hateful voice broke through the protective fog in her brain. "Don't stop fighting me now, we're just beginning to have some real fun, teacher."

"No-o-o!" Brit screamed. She wanted to vomit from the humiliation and pain and pure fear. She had to get away!

Gripping her skirt waistband, he yanked, popping the front buttons loose and tearing buttonholes.

He pushed her down to the top of her desk, sending books and papers and her laptop case crashing to the floor.

She tried to kick him but his weight held her.

"Did you really think it would help to call the cops?"

She twisted beneath his weight and fought cruel hands yanking her blouse up, mauling her breasts. Holding her down with the weight of his sweaty body, he turned loose aching breasts to grab her hands. Stretching them above her head, he clamped them with one hand to give him freedom to run the other one over her body.

Bile rose in her throat, nearly choking her.

He released her wrists to grab her jaw as he lowered his face toward her mouth.

Grabbing the hair hanging over his forehead, Brit yanked.

He rewarded her with a blow to her head, knocking her to the floor. He was on her again before she caught her breath. If she could reach the case ....

She stretched one arm.

He bellowed, "You don't learn! The teacher isn't so high and mighty now, is she?" He clamped a hand around her throat. His pale blue eyes gleamed with madness.

Though stunned, she would fight for her life as long as she was conscious. Her world dimmed around the edges while she tried to pull in oxygen.

Brit's flailing legs struck nothingness. She coughed. The body of the attacker rose and sailed through the air. Someone had turned on the lights.

"Help her, Son!" Sam, thank God.

Sam pounded the assailant with such force Brit thought he might kill him. Then his eyes softened in concern for a second before he was caught by surprise by the man he tried to subdue.

Two combatants scrambled when Sam tried to grab the escaping man. With the strength of desperation, the assailant fled Sam's grasp and stumbled to the door, then ran down the hall.

Following him to the door Sam looked back to see Sean covering Brit with his jacket. "Just get him!" Brit pleaded. "Go, Sam! Hurry!"

Sam threw his jacket toward Sean and raced down the hall, shouting. "Don't let the son-of-a-bitch out the door! Stop him!"

Sean slid his dad's folded jacket under her head as a pillow, but Brit tried to rise. "Please don't move, ma'am," Sean whispered. His blue eyes were wide with shock and fear. He reached into his back pocket for his handkerchief. Awkward, he wiped blood left by the blow to her mouth. "Dad will get help."

"Thanks, Sean," she shakily clutched her blouse closed. "No broken bones. He didn't get the chance to h-h-hurt me m-much, thanks to you and your father," Brit reassured him.

She tried to rise, but stopped when the jacket Sean had placed on her lap slid to expose the lack of a skirt or slip. "Oh." She looked away in embarrassment to see a small pile of shiny fabric on the floor near her legs, her torn slip.

"Thanks, Sean."

"Dad!" Sean exclaimed, looking toward the doorway.

"Sam!" Brit was so relieved to see him back she almost cried, but she wouldn't let herself break down yet.

"Brit." Sam took Sean's place, sending him to watch for the police and the ambulance. "I didn't get him. Sorry! He was too damned fast. He pushed Mr. James into my path. I almost ran him down. Are you all right?"

While Sam rambled as though he didn't know what to say, Brit sensed his fear and anguish, his frustration at failing to catch her attacker!

"If he hurt you I'll kill him. Did he .... "

"I'm okay, I think. And no, he d-didn't." She took a deep calming breath. "You and Sean got here in time." She shook her head to clear it. "Why were you here at this hour?"

She interrupted before he could say the words that would make the experience too real. Her body shook. One more word and she'd be stuttering from delayed reaction.

Sam swore under his breath. If he'd answered her question, she missed the answer.

He sat down on the floor and took her in his arms, re-covering her with his jacket. "Teach, if anything had happened I would've ... Maybe I'll kill him anyway, dirty bastard!"

The comfort of Sam's arms around her all but stopped her trembling, replacing fear with the warmth of safety. Leaning her head against Sam's chest felt so good! .If she could stay here a minute she would be strong enough to face the questions the police would ask.

"Sam, how did you and Sean find me when you did?"

"We saw your car in the parking lot as we were leaving. Sean needed to get some book he had to borrow. I can't explain, but I got this strange feeling you were in danger."

She tilted her head to look into his eyes. "Like the ones you had last night?"

Sam nodded, rubbing her back. "Kinda. We didn't think you should be here alone so late. We didn't think about Mr. James waiting for you, and I'm glad we didn't. If we'd not come back, if we'd been a minute later. God knows, I don't want to think of the what-ifs!"

"Are you psychic, or something?"

"Or something." He shrugged. The friction of fabric against her cheek released his masculine scent.

"Sam! You didn't call an ambulance? I don't need --"

"Shush. You should be checked for injuries. Anyway, while I chased the son-of-a-bitch into the parking lot, Mr. James called 911. They're sending the police and an ambulance."

"But, Sam," Brit looked up to see two police officers, followed by two paramedics carrying a gurney.

"Sir? Ma'am?" Two policemen advanced, followed by a man and a woman in scrubs, and Sean, and Mr. James.

"Dad?" Sean blurted, startling Sam and Brit, as Sam started to rise, then thought better.

"Sir?" A policeman came forward, signaling behind to the two paramedics who advanced with the gurney and a blanket.

"Oh," Sam rose with Brit in his arms as though she weighed nothing and placed her on the gurney. In his arms, she felt safe. When he gently removed her arms encircling his neck, she wanted to keep them there. Keeping her hands in his, he held them, comforted her.

"Officer, could we get her to a hospital before we put her through questioning?" Sam asked.

"Please." She gripped his hands like a lifeline. "Officer, it was a harrowing experience but I'm not injured. I can answer questions and get them over." She hoped she told the truth. The shock could set in and blow any coherent thoughts from her head.

"Officer, she needs medical attention," Sam snapped. "You can question her after she gets care."

"Sir, we need to know what happened so we can begin our investigation immediately." He held a small, black notebook open. His partner had taken out a small tape recorder and inclined his head toward her in question. When she nodded, he pushed the button.

Brit began. "I had completed my last conference and was preparing to leave ..." Her voice, strong at first, wavered as her fear was relived. Sam's arm slipped around her shoulder, his eyes glaring at the men for putting her through the torture of re-living the near rape. She continued, " … I t-tried to outrun him .... "

When Brit paused to take slow breaths to regain her composure, one paramedic entered with a glass of water and handed it to her.