The Last Execution (13 page)

“Goodnight.” Ethan’s lips pushed out in a pout, not wanting the night to end.

He had his mother’s blue eyes. They pulled you in. Touched you. J.T. shook off the feeling of tenderness. It wasn’t a cloak he wore well. Time to call it a night.

“It’s time for me to go,” J.T. told him. “Why don’t you and Mom walk me to the door?”

He felt Leigh’s eyes on him. What was she watching for? When he met her gaze, she smiled and nodded. J.T. stood, and Ethan again grasped those same two fingers. The small boy staring up at him, clinging to his hand scared J.T. worse than his last tour of duty. And that one damn near killed him.

On the porch, Leigh scooped up Ethan, parking him on her hip. “Thanks for coming. We rarely have company, and we enjoyed tonight. Didn’t we?” she asked Ethan.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thanks for supper.”

“We enjoyed it.”

She stood on the sidewalk, beautiful in the amber glow of the porch light. God, he wanted to say something else. Something profound. Something to show that he understood the honor and trust she’d bestowed on him by allowing him into her home. Something to let her know he’d never betray her confidence. Instead, the intimacy of mother and child smiling at him, scrambled his brain, clogged his throat, and sent him running to his car.

****

Sunday, May 2, 12:30 a.m.

Leigh’s eyes flew open when the heavy weight landed on top of her. A gloved hand clamped over her mouth. Old horrors and painful memories washed over her.

Ethan!

Mother and cop instinct took over and she struggled, fought to free her hands. The bedcovers helped the bastard hold her prisoner. Please. God. She’d give this bastard whatever he wanted. Just keep Ethan safe. Panic rode high in her chest when the stranger straddled her body, pressing her further into the mattress.

Leigh struggled to free one arm. White lights exploded in front of her eyes and fire burned straight through her brain as he delivered two fast blows to her cheek. Stars flashed, forcing her to scream into the gloved hand. A second punch landed below her breastbone, causing a gush of air to expel from her lungs.

“Be quiet,” the voice whispered. Fingers gripped her throat and tightened. “Understand?”

Leigh stopped struggling against the figure in the darkness, managed to nod her head up and down.
Be submissive. Wait for an opportunity to strike.
Survival was all about timing.
The gloved hand moved, and she asked, “What do you want?”

She had to protect Ethan. She gathered her wits and forced her body to relax. Remain calm on the outside regardless of the speed of her heartbeat. She committed every move he made to memory. Gathered clues using the dim light from her alarm clock. He wore all dark clothing. His head and face were covered with a ski mask, making positive identification impossible.

Silently, he tugged her sleep shirt up. Cold reality hit hard in her stomach, flashes of the past rape blasting through her mind. The intruder covered her breast with his hand and squeezed. He rolled her nipple between his fingers then pinched. Twisted, harder and harder. She clamped her lips tight to muffle the sound when she cried out. He leaned close and rubbed his covered face against hers. The familiar scent of his cologne sent her stomach into overload. The voice was muffled but the smell identified her attacker.

“Jason. You’re going back to prison.”

His fist crashed into her jaw. Her world spun out of control
.
His fingers came back to her neck, tightened. Tighter. Tighter. Ethan. She fought against losing consciousness. Darkness pulled her under.

The weight lifted. She gasped for air. Coughed. Gulped oxygen into her burning lungs. She was alive and breathing. He’d released her. Why? She rolled off the bed, tangling the covers around her legs. Was he still in the house? Kicking with all her strength, she freed herself and crawled to the nightstand. She opened the drawer and found the key to her lockbox. Sweat broke and ran down her face as she scooted to the closet. Opening the door posed a risk but she had to reach her gun. The house was quiet except for her pounding heart while she fumbled with the small key. A whoosh of air left her lungs when the lock opened.

The Glock 17 in her hand offered a measure of reassurance after she’d jacked a bullet into the chamber. She flattened her back against the wall and listened. Had he left? Was he somewhere in the house? Oh. My. God. Ethan.

Leigh ran down the hall to his room. She quickly turned the knob, pushed the door open with her foot, and then clamped her left hand over her mouth to muffle a sob. Ethan, sound asleep and undisturbed, had one leg sticking out from under his sheet, and his Atlanta Falcons helmet stuck on his foot. Leigh checked inside the closet and under the bed before making sure the window was still locked. The tightness in her chest eased. One more look at her son, and then she backed out, pulling his door closed.

As soon as the nine-one-one operator answered, Leigh identified herself and provided the appropriate information. She insisted the patrol car come in cold with no siren or lights to disturb Ethan.

A quick check of her house revealed the breach. The kitchen door stood open. She’d checked carefully before going to bed, but the locks were old, but the deadbolts should’ve held. Dammit, she should’ve gone ahead and had alarms installed. Her negligence had allowed an intruder to break in.

No, not an intruder.
Jason.
She’d allowed him to break in. His cologne burned her nostrils. Stuck to her skin. Maybe forensics could find something so Leigh slipped off her sleep-shirt and stuffed it in a paper bag. Sweat covered her body, yet she shivered while slipping on jeans and a blouse. The reality of what might have happened reduced her knees to rubber, and she sank down to the floor. Inside her head, jackhammers worked overtime. Her entire body trembled. Her face and right breast throbbed.

She grabbed her cell, begging her fingers to stop shaking. She dialed a number, taking one more peek at her sleeping son. Ethan was not going to be exposed to Jason. He wouldn’t grow up anything like his father. She didn’t need reassurance. Didn’t need to be reminded nurture, not nature, would prevail. Didn’t need to be reminded that her love for Ethan was all that mattered.

J.T. answered on the second ring. “What’s up?”

His sleepy voice ripped the last vestige of self-control away from Leigh. “Somebody broke in,” she blurted the words out on a sob. “Can you come?”

“On my way. You call it in?”

His voice, heavy with concern, opened her up. Try as she might, the emotions bubbled over. “Yes.”

“Are you hurt?”

The tears started and wouldn’t stop.

“Hang on. I’ll be there soon.”

****

Sunday, May 2, 3:00 a.m.

J.T. slid to a stop behind two patrol units and ran to Leigh’s front door. He flashed his ID to gain entrance then froze when he stepped inside. Leigh’s eyes, full of pain and fear, cut right through him. Sitting on the couch with her feet tucked under her, she looked like a wounded child. He eased down beside her, not demanding answers, letting her retell the events at her pace.

She bounced up to go open Ethan’s bedroom door every few minutes. Amazingly, the kid slept while the cops tromped around inside and out, asking questions. The boy missing the excitement and not witnessing his mother’s meltdown was a good thing.

When she’d called, J.T. heard her fighting to keep her voice steady. Tears in her voice had ripped his heart out. The way she’d pulled herself together amazed him. She’d dressed, rounded up her hair into something close to that infernal knot, and showed no signs of fear. If anything, she was pissed, because her identification of the intruder by his smell wasn’t enough to arrest her ex-boyfriend.

The paramedics checked Leigh over and agreed if somebody drove her to the ER, she could skip the ambulance ride. She called her babysitter, apologized profusely, and asked if she stay with Ethan for a couple of hours.

J.T. walked the paramedics out, insisting Leigh would keep her word.

“Want me to carry you?” He towered over her.

“Scowling won’t motivate me. I’m more mad than hurt.” Reluctantly, she let him drag her to the Fairmont Emergency room.

****

Sunday, May 2, 6:00a.m.

J.T. parked in Leigh’s driveway and watched the sleeping beauty in his car. Between the adrenaline wearing off and the probing of the ER doctors, Leigh had to be exhausted. She’d dozed off within a few minutes of leaving the hospital.

“I’m awake,” she said, her tone soft and groggy.

“Let’s get you inside.”

Leigh sent the sitter home, promising to call if she was needed. Nerves and memories did funny things, and J.T. waited while Leigh checked every room in her house. She wandered back to the living room and sat on the floor in front of a collection of CD’s.

“Too tense to rest?” J.T. understood completely. “Music sometimes will help.”

“Most of these are Ethan’s. Kid tunes. Ever heard ‘The Wheels on the Bus’?” Her voice had tears right on the edge.

“Not that I remember.”

“I was so afraid Ethan would wake and come to my bedroom.” She fidgeted with the different CD’s. “Worse, I was afraid he’d kill me so he could have Ethan permanently.”

“But he didn’t. You should rest.” God, he wanted to say something to help her. Probably best to let her talk it out.

“You’re leaving?”

His blood flashed hot when she raised her wide-eyed gaze to his face. Her swollen cheek was already multicolored and matched the bruising on her neck.

“Hell, no. I’m sleeping on the couch. Tomorrow you’ll get deadbolt locks installed.”

“Thank you.”

He had to figure a way to comfort her without scaring the hell out of her. He sat behind her, placed a hand on each side of her narrow waist, and slid her into the juncture of his thighs. Her back went rigid at his touch, so he did something he’d wanted to do since they’d met. He removed the hairpins from the knot, undid the rubber thing, and released her hair. Blonde waves fell down the middle of her back.

“That was a mistake,” she sighed, her bunched shoulders relaxing a little.

“Why?” J.T. forced his hands to his sides because she was right. Jesus Christ, he wanted to bury his face in her curls, feel the softness against his bare skin. Most of all, he wanted to tell her everything was okay. Then the
mistake
would be a disaster.

“Turned loose, my hair goes wild. In the bun, at least one thing in my life is under control.”

He felt her first tremble. Her shoulders shook. “Leigh,” he whispered. “I’m sorry he hurt you.”

“When I think about Ethan, helpless, sleeping down the hall, I...”

A mixture of fear and fury boiled up in him when she released a sob. J.T.’s anger and worry he’d do something wrong spun his mind in circles.

“It’s my job to protect him.” Leigh’s anger poured out. “What if he’d been taken or killed? I wouldn’t survive that.” She dropped her head into her hands and cried.

J.T. had never heard such a gut-wrenching sound. Her tears weren’t for herself. She hurt for what might’ve happened to her son. The lump in his throat, the one growing with each of her sobs surprised him. He massaged the rigid tendons and muscles between her shoulder blades because he had to touch her, to comfort her. She didn’t pull away, so he increased the pressure.

He tried to imagine being helpless, to be at somebody else’s mercy. To have no control over a situation didn’t compute, refused to process in his brain.

Finally, she straightened her back, drying her cheeks with her hands.

“Better?” He wanted to drag her into his arms and kiss away the aches and pains. To make her forget, to feel safe and cared for, but she was too vulnerable. He wasn’t what she needed.

Leigh was sure her ex-boyfriend was responsible, and J.T. had no reason to doubt her. His fists itched to pummel the son of a bitch who’d hurt her.

“Better. You’re a man of few words.”

“I talk when I have something to say.” The bruises forming on her had his temper ready to burst into flames. She didn’t need him to blow up, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

“I can’t thank you enough. Twice you’ve stepped up on my behalf.”

“Not a problem. Now, I want you to do something for me.” J.T. hated to put her through anymore tonight, but memories dimmed. He needed her to concentrate.

She shifted, looking at him over her shoulder. “Okay.”

“Think back. You were down for the count. Why didn’t he finish you off?”

“He gets what he wants and doesn’t like being told no.”

“He wants the paternity test done that badly?” The bastard had to be nuts.

“I believe so, which is why I’m amazed I’m alive.”

“How’d you get tied up with this jerk? Never mind. The question was out of line and none of my business.”

“You deserve an answer.” She reached up and patted his hand resting on her shoulder. “Jason and I had a few dates. He’s an expert at pretense. When I saw what he was really like, I broke off with him. His reaction was off the chart. He wouldn’t hear of it. I was his. Plain and simple.”

“Well, you’re not his,” J.T. said, sliding his arms around her.

Leigh cried out then slapped a hand over her mouth. His gut bunched, and he moved back in a hurry.