Protective Instincts (8 page)

"Shush!" The warnings stopped the banter that would have seemed normal on any other day.

She welcomed the sounds of discussion as groups circled desks to read their essays from the weekend's homework. She seldom had to settle arguments about grammatical errors, punctuation rules, or form. Hearing her students so passionate about their work grabbed her teacher's heart. A few times she saw an error about to be accepted by the group as a whole. Those groups she had to guide a little.

At the end of each class, she reminded everyone she expected to have all project final drafts on Tuesday.

People stopped by to wave or to walk with Brit at breaks and on the way to lunch. No one mentioned the attack, thank God. At odd moments during the day, she thought she sensed Sam watching her from outside her door, but she refused to look.

At other times, the air she breathed hurt her lungs. Her head felt ready to explode. Nausea grabbed her stomach. The feeling of menace would pass.

During her planning period, someone happened to bring cookies to share. They tasted like dust but she ate them and smiled.

After school Sean and Angela brought notes on the project they were doing for her class. The two blonde heads were close an awful lot. They worked in a corner and asked her a few questions to make it seem less obvious they were baby-sitting her. Having company was good.

The room became too quiet. Brit tried to grade papers. She could hear the ticking of the large clock over her desk. She sat at a student desk to grade papers. Not once had she sat at her own desk. She couldn't!

A car backfired nearby and she barely suppressed a scream. She needed to go to the restroom but couldn't face the deserted halls alone. Her hands shook as she stuffed rubber-banded stacks of papers into her tote bag. Suddenly she had to get out of this room, out of this building, now.

"Time to go, Ms. Roberts." Mr. James stuck his head in the room. "I'd like to walk you to your car, if that's okay."

It was. "Ready," was all she could make herself say.

"We're going, too." Sean and Angela stood quickly. Sean was barely taller than Angela, but she looked so dainty beside him. "Thanks for the help." They left just ahead of their teacher.

Her Mustang looked so alone in the parking lot. Mr. James waited until she was inside with the doors locked, then waved her on. "Home, baby, let's go home."

Sean drove Angela home, by way of Brit's. He didn't even pretend he wasn't following her.

* * * *

Douglas was not happy. He'd watched the teacher for so long he felt he knew when she farted. His listening equipment wasn't great, but he knew an awful lot about her habits. Planting listening devices in her schoolroom, the teachers' lounge, and the ladies' room had been almost fun. He'd walked into the school dressed like a maintenance worker, and he'd done his work. Planting cameras would have pushed his luck. The gray beard and shaggy wig were a touch of genius. No one had even asked to see his forged paperwork.

His mother had been wrong when she'd said he would never make anything of himself. He had enough money in the bank to keep the old lady in a good nursing home. Too bad, he had her in a cheap one. She'd cuffed him enough when she was spouting her scriptures about the wages of sin, though she'd spread her legs for the preacher. Bitch!

The teacher had to die soon. She was turning into her driveway. There he had cameras. The one he'd mounted on a telephone pole gave him a good view into several windows. The security system and the big dog posed problems with getting inside but he'd just have to get around them. He'd never met a security system he couldn't by-pass with a little studying.

* * * *

Brit's footsteps echoed inside her house. The daylight reassured her. Her devoted guard dog greeted her at the front door with so much affection she ended up on the floor laughing and hugging him. For a short while, she forgot to be afraid. Maybe after she changed into jogging clothes she'd let Monster take her for a walk.

Her house was the same but it wasn't. She must be paranoid. There was no way anyone could be in here. She still checked in closets and under beds.

Around four thirty Brit snapped Monster's leash to his collar. Her doorbell rang. Monster strained toward the door.

"Gotta look through the peephole." Monster seemed excited, like the ringer was someone he knew.

"Just Sam." No wonder Monster acted excited.

She opened the door. Sam's face lit with his sexy smile. His bedroom eyes threw her. He probably looked that way at all women. He'd certainly charmed her mother and Julie.

"Gonna walk Monster?"

"I think he's gonna walk me."

Monster gave Sam a welcoming hand lick and nudge, then strained toward the sidewalk.

"Mind if I walk with you?"

"Ask Monster." Brit laughed when her guard pet pulled her down the sidewalk. "I don't think he'll mind. He likes you."

Tempted as he was to follow Brit so he could watch her cute backside, Sam set his stride to bring him even with her. He took the leash handle she held in both hands. He still had a hand free to grasp one of hers. She didn't object. Holding her hand made him feel strong and humble at the same time.

When Monster finally slowed to investigate flowers Sam faced Brit. "So, how did it go today?"

"Okay. I did all right, mostly."

"I'm glad. I stopped by the school a couple of times. I kept getting funny feelings, like something wasn't right."

"Oh?"

"Not as strong as before. I …. "

Sam touched the yellowing bruise on her cheek. He felt her wince beneath his fingers. "Does it still hurt?"

"Not so much now."

Conversation halted when Monster tugged at his leash, ready to walk Sam and Brit again.

She looked good, relaxed. Maybe his being there helped.

They had to persuade Monster to head back home. Sam had worked up a sweat and he could hear Brit's raspy, open-mouthed breathing.

"Julie will be home soon. Would you like to come in for a while? I have some of Mama's cookies left."

"Sure, Teach, love to."

Once they were inside, Monster headed for his water. Sam had worked up an appetite. He settled for cookies and coffee.

Just as he and Brit sat down to a cup of coffee, Julie breezed in with news of a therapy group she wanted Brit to check out. That discussion occupied the women so much that Sam had no more private time with Brit. Modern men discussed relationships and feelings with women. He wanted to be a modern man and let her know how much he cared for her. He wanted to give her a chance to tell him what she felt. But it wouldn't happen tonight. He checked his watch. Time to head home.

"Teach, Julie, gotta go. Sean's fixing supper and he hates for the sandwiches to get cold."

"Aw, Sam, I'll bet Sean is a good cook." Brit laughed.

"Yeah, he makes great sandwiches." Sam placed a light kiss on her soft cheek.

"My turn, hero." Julie stood on her tiptoes and gave him a sweet friendly kiss.

"You ladies be careful." He opened the front door and walked out.

Only after he heard the click of the lock did he leave the porch. Something about the attack and the phone calls hovered at the back of his mind as he drove home. He couldn't put his finger on it. He'd call Drew. Having an Atlanta undercover cop for a brother had advantages.

* * * *

Julie spent the night there, as planned. Their time grading papers and watching sit-coms together seemed deceptively casual, like it was a normal thing, like it was just one more pajama party.

"Julie," Brit looked around the room, shivering, "am I being paranoid to feel like someone is watching me?"

"I think it's natural after what happened to you."

"I can't shake the feeling that someone sees too much. I'm almost afraid to go to the bathroom alone." Brit banded a set of graded papers and put them into her tote, her hands unsteady.

Julie's fingers stopped tapping the keys on her calculator.

"I know what you mean. That's something you should mention at the group therapy session. Maybe talking to other victims can help you get over that concern. I think it's just a normal reaction."

Julie's room across from Brit's had its own bathroom. Both bedroom doors stayed open. When the women went to bed, Monster slept on a quilt beside Brit's bed.

It had taken forever for Brit to get to sleep. Now she tossed and twisted to escape the huge hands mauling her. A rough hand covered her mouth. The hand grabbing her between her thighs hurt.

"Not again!" She tried to scream. She tried to bite the hand hurting her mouth. She twisted from hands grabbing her.

"You want it," the gruff voice growled. "You all want it!"

"No!" She clutched desperately at the cruel hands, scratching, trying to bite them.

Brit heard Julie's voice. "It's just a nightmare, Brit. It's just a nightmare. You're safe." Julie patted Brit's back, crooning words of comfort as her sobbing finally slowed. "No one's gonna hurt you. Sam and I won't let anyone hurt you."

Sweet Monster licked her hand.

* * * *

Sitting in his hotel room alone, Douglas rubbed his crotch. Two half-naked broads in bed together. He'd enjoyed the fear causing the nightmare for his target. He could terrify her without even being there. He planned to terrify her more when he got her alone again.

The blonde, Julie, had a body that made a man ache. Her breasts were large and her waist small. She'd be so hot. Such a sweet ache. Too bad, there wouldn't be a real show. Hell, he could've sold the tapes if the teachers hadn't been straight.

So the math teacher thought he wasn't her type, huh. He hadn't meant to be noticed. He'd learned a lot though. Maybe when his job was over he'd dress like his real self, put on some attitude, and give her another chance. Or maybe not.

Shit. A man with his looks and money shouldn't have to jack off in a cheap hotel alone. He couldn't risk having a woman recognize him later. Maybe he could wear a disguise? Nah, he didn't screw around during a job, unless it was part of the job. He'd had his heart, such as it was, set on raping this woman and killing her.

Too many beers and too much hiding time made him crazy. His stupid employers hadn't been pleased when he reported he hadn't killed the woman yet. They were in trouble neither their hired cop nor their
mouthpiece
could fix. Their attempts to expand outside of their little town had brought them to the notice of the big boys. Organized crime in Atlanta could buy better cops and bigger trouble.

The teacher kept asking too many questions about her lawyer husband's
accidental
death. His employers' dirty cop had threatened to off Douglas and then her. Like that dope could kill him.

The teacher's husband had been the best at lawyering but hadn't been for sale. The lawyers these small town crooks hired now could be bought but weren't so good. This would be his last job. He'd take his money and go where the weather stayed warm and the women wore little clothing and were willing to accommodate a man with money.

The problem was that Douglas had taken money for a job he hadn't done. Now it wasn't just the money. His pride demanded he finish the job. He wouldn't go out as a failure.

* * * *

Tuesday night Brit drove to therapy group. Sam had offered to take her but she had to do this on her own. It had helped to talk with the other victims, to share her feelings without upsetting her friends with her fears. With effort, she managed to hide her paranoia from those close to her. The feeling of violation was hard to explain to anyone who had not experienced an attack, sexual or otherwise, in her own space, where she had always felt safe. It was hard to take.

She'd signed up for the self-defense class the policewoman had recommended. The week had gone well and the weekend was upon them.

There had been fewer hang-up phone calls. Each time she checked her new caller ID and reported the number and time of the call. She called a few back, pretending to get wrong numbers. Since the one obscene call, every call had become a cause for fear.

* * * *

Julie and Brit stood at the sink, washing breakfast dishes. They'd had a lazy Saturday morning meal like Brit's mother used to fix after a slumber party. Their routines offered comfort to Brit since the attack. She cooked suppers and often Sam dropped by. After meals, Julie washed dishes and Brit dried them. Julie made a good roommate since the attack and a great friend, but she wanted Brit to go out tonight.

Brit dried and put away a cup. "No, thanks, Julie. I'll just hang around and clean house. But you go ahead."

"Aw, Brit," Julie pleaded. "It's Saturday night and I can't go to Mustang Red's by myself. I'd look desperate going to a bar alone." She rubbed her nose with her forearm then fished a glass from the soapy water. "It'll do us both good to get out."

"I don't think I'm ready for a night on the town."

"This place is new, everyone says it's great. You'd love the Mustang memorabilia there. If I can't go with a date, I need to be with a friend, at least. Two women wouldn't look so much like they're
on the make
. It'll be better than sitting at home."

Julie looked pitiful. "Please! Pretty please! How can you turn down your best friend in the whole world?
Mr. Right
could be there. It could be the only chance I'd have to meet him. But would you care if I miss my one chance for happiness? Huh? Huh? How could you refuse the person who kissed a frog for you?"

Monster moved from the corner where he'd been basking in the light streaming in through the window. He nuzzled Brit, then Julie.

Absentmindedly Brit rubbed his head. She narrowed her eyes at an unfazed Julie. "Con-artist. You said the frog might be a prince in disguise and you
double-dog
dared me."

Monster pushed against her leg.

She glanced down at him. "Not you. We know you're not a dog, you big baby." She looked back at Julie. "You only kissed the frog because I said darers go first."

Julie dried her hands on a dishtowel.

"I won't make you kiss any frogs tonight." Julie grinned her devilish grin, the one that made Brit forgive her anything. "It could've been a prince, you know. Some friend you are. Besides, you need to get out. You go to school, to self-defense classes, and group therapy." Julie touched Brit's hair.