by Liz Crowe
He must be trying to find the coffee pot or something. A fruitless endeavor she knew. She dropped back on the pillow and let her mind drift back to the confessions they’d made to each other. The cursing got louder and moved toward the bedroom.
“Sara!” Jack barked. “I’m supposed to be touring a Ford exec in forty-five minutes.” He stood there completely naked still, magnificent cock at half-mast. He ran a hand over his face once, found his underwear and jeans and pulled them both on. “Do you have any decent coffee? Never mind; I’ll get some later.” He stalked out of the room. She sat up, alarmed.
He had forgotten.
She tried to quell crushing disappointment. He stopped in the doorway, put both hands on either side of the jamb, and took a deep breath. “I, um, need a ride home. Do you mind?” he asked without looking at her.
Sara rolled out of bed, pulled on jeans, a t-shirt, and her flip-flops, wincing as her sore foot made contact with the floor. She glared at Jack as he fiddled with email on his smart phone.
God damn it. He’s done it to me again. Sara, you are a fool.
The face in the mirror mocked her as she brushed her teeth and pulled her hair back. Jack blocked her way out of the bedroom and for a brief moment, she thought he was going to reach out for her, but he merely stepped aside and followed her into the living room. She grabbed purse and keys and stomped out the front door, not watching to see if he followed. They screeched out of her parking lot, silence gathering force between them.
Jack gave her his address and said nothing else. Sara gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, willing him to speak. She’d be damned if she would first. Finally, she pulled up in front of his bungalow in the affluent neighborhood near the central campus, keeping her gaze straight ahead. Jack sat, unmoving. He put a hand on her shoulder.
“Sara,” he said, quietly. “I, you, I mean, we…shit,” he muttered. “I’m late; I really have got to go. But I remember what I said last night, okay?” He put a finger under her chin and turned her face to his before giving her a kiss of such tenderness and feeling that she nearly wept with relief. “We have to talk more, and we will,” he said as he brushed her nose and forehead with his lips. “I’ll call you this afternoon.” He ran a weary hand over his eyes and through his thick hair, making it stand up in spikes. “I’ve got a stupid golf outing tomorrow, but if this day doesn’t go too long, let’s have dinner. Deal?”
He grinned, then jumped out of the car and ran toward his house, disappearing into the side door as her nerve endings hummed. The anticipation of conversations with her brother that had “Jack” and “boyfriend” in the same sentence made her a little dizzy. She sighed, put the car in gear, and headed home.
Chapter Ten
“This is Sara Thornton. How can I help you?” she chirped into the phone the next morning as she took a floor call. It had been a late night and not an entirely satisfying one. Jack had called at nine o’clock after keeping her posted via text during his tour. He sounded exhausted after an entire day of shuttling a top-level executive around with his high-maintenance spouse and two annoying children, managing it all while nursing a raging hangover. He’d been apologetic and contrite but begged off anything more than falling straight into bed.
“I owe you one, baby,” he’d muttered into her ear, giving her chills. “And you know I will make good on it.” Sara had bitten the inside of her cheek so hard to keep from filling the silence she tasted blood. “I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow night. I’m skipping the golf outing after-party. Dress up,” he insisted before signing off.
She’d set her phone down on the coffee table, called for her favorite pizza, and paid to stream a scary move—anything to take her mind off her neglected state. She’d woken up in a sweating, hyperventilating heap on the floor beside the couch, the movie playing in an endless loop. She couldn’t recall the nightmare that had caused her such panic but took a hot shower to calm down and then fell face first into bed, not moving until the alarm went off at six a.m. for her morning run.
She’d felt re-energized afterwards, had showered and headed into the office. No word from Jack yet, but that wasn’t unusual. He’d said he had a golf outing and wouldn’t be able to talk all day, so she mentally inventoried her closet for something great to wear on their date tonight.
Their Date… Sara flushed with anticipation and relief. He’d finally done it. Feeling liberated, strong, and wigged out in equal measure, she waded through emails, chatted with the secretary company gossip, listening carefully for any tidbits about Jack. By the time she got the first floor call the clock read noon, the end of her shift. The buyer on the other end of the phone wanted to see a listing today, in an hour, out in the township.
Sara sighed, picturing the afternoon spent on a most likely useless trek out to meet a less-than-qualified buyer. She set the meeting, printed out a few more listings in the price range and general vicinity to take with her, and finished off the work on transactions she had in the pipeline. Next month would be her most lucrative one yet. And she had a damn date tonight with none other than Jack Gordon.
Her phone buzzed with a text and she smiled, anticipating Jack’s missive. She frowned at the unfamiliar number. “Hey. It’s Craig. Can you cover me for about thirty minutes? I’m supposed to be there at noon, but am gonna be late.”
“Sure, but I got a last-minute showing at one so don’t be much later.” She hit “save contact” and entered his name, the image of his tanned face and messy blonde hair wavering in her vision. He had proven to be a very quick study, and had picked up the real estate lingo and processes with little apparent effort. Their one close encounter had made for some awkwardness, but he’d effectively ignored her since then.
His lazy smile and easy-going manner, not to mention absolutely adorable Southern accent and smoking hot body, had quickly made him a favorite among the women. She’d heard that he’d gone out with an admin at their corporate office already.
At the rumble of his motorcycle outside, Sara grabbed her phone and keys and headed for the back door. The vision that greeted her as she exited made her stumble over the sidewalk. Craig had taken his helmet off and was in the process of shaking his dark-blonde hair and pulling off his Ray-Bans. Sara took in the rumpled khakis hugging his ass and the sinfully tight black t-shirt emphasizing the smooth strength of his deliciously toned arms. He grabbed a button-down shirt out of the compartment behind his seat and was shoving his arms in it when he turned and saw Sara staring at him. His sheepish grin nearly melted her.
Good Lord, he is like a fucking Greek god or something.
She stopped herself and smiled back at him, her heart beating faster.
“About time, cutie,” she called out, covering her discomfort.
“Sorry, late night. Had a gig over in Grosse Pointe,” he said.
A that’s right. A guitar player. Jesus, he probably has amazing hands.
Sara shook her head to rid herself of the image of them on his guitar. “No problem. Had a last minute floor call is all. Some guy wanting to see some stupid house way out on Willis Road.”
Craig narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re going? Alone? Is that safe?”
“Oh, it’ll be fine. But thanks for asking.” She waved her hand as she turned to her car. “Hope you get more calls than I did!” Within a minute, she got another text from him.
“If there is a problem text me 911 and the address.”
Sara smiled and made her way out to the house. The supposed buyer stood her up for nearly twenty minutes, which annoyed her, but she pasted on her best smile as she held the door open for him. Within ten seconds, every inner alarm she possessed started clanging.
He was dressed well enough. Was tall and wore a baseball cap, jeans, and a t-shirt. But his eyes traveled over her frame in a thoroughly disconcerting and inappropriate way the second he arrived.
Get a grip, Sara. It’s nothing. Show the house and be done.
But her nerves kept buzzing and she
automatically took the precautions drummed into them. She made him lead the way into each room as she stood in the hall, feigned a couple of phone calls, remained in the kitchen while he traversed the large overgrown yard. She immediately tried to call Jack as soon as he walked out the door. His voicemail picked up so she sent him a text: “911 2793 Willis Rd.” and then sent the same message to Craig.
The guy wandered back into the house after about five minutes. He took a step too close to her and she eased away. She blew out a breath as he continued past her down to the basement. She started toward the front door, mentally declaring this appointment finished.
“Hey, um, Sara, could you come here and show me what this leak is?” the creep called from the steps.
Ok. Time to get the hell out of here.
Sara was focused on getting to the front door and to the porch steps toward her car when she felt a rough hand grip her arm. She pulled away, trying not to meet his eyes. He grinned at her.
“You aren’t being a very good Realtor.” He grabbed for her again. An adrenaline rush kicked in as she rushed down the steps. The ripping sound when he gripped the back of her blouse sent a bolt of terror through her brain. Her yell cut through the country road’s quiet. But he simply backed her up against her car door so hard her head ricocheted against the metal roof, which sent stars shooting across her vision.
Channeling Blake’s self-defense class she slammed her knee up between his legs but he sidestepped her and clamped a hand over her mouth. He yelped when she bit down on the palm, then wrenched her arm behind her back and turned her to face the car.
“Bad Realtor,” he muttered into her ear. He yanked her arm up so far she screamed in pain. “Shut up, goddamn it.” The guy had his lips so near her ear she could smell the rank odor of cigarettes and unwashed skin. His hand mashed against her ear. The car’s hot metal seared her cheek. She could smell her own sour, sweaty fear. The guy’s breath permeated her nostrils. Her brain was on overdrive but he had her completely immobile, pinned against her car door.
She opened her mouth to talk, beg. She felt a rough hand on her leg, shoving her skirt up. Her flight instinct kicked in. She would not stand here and be abused by this asshole. She squirmed and started screaming. He yanked her away from the car, the air a relief to her scorched skin, quickly replaced by a sting of pain when he backhanded her so forcefully her neck jerked back, one hand still gripping her arm so hard it almost hurt worse than the blow.
“Bitch. Now be still.” He whipped her back around, shoved her against the car door again and put a huge hand around her neck. “Yell again, and I’ll squeeze.” Sara’s fuddled brain registered him fumbling around with his zipper.
Tears leaked from her eyes as her mind slowly processed that her own desire for a sale might cost her life. She sobbed and tried to relax so whatever he did wouldn’t hurt as much.
By the time the roar of a motorcycle engine tore through the quiet and gravel flew from under Craig’s wheels as he spun up to where the attacker had Sara pinned, the guy had her panties ripped off and both hands around her neck, apparently in preparation for raping her. He started squeezing her throat so hard the world started to go black from the outside in. Then he grunted and was suddenly gone.
Sara landed on her hands and knees sucking in deep drafts of air, and heard, rather than saw, flesh hitting flesh. Once she managed to unfreeze her limbs and turn around, she took in the sight of the guy on the ground face down, blood darkening the area around his head. Craig was crouched on his back and had his arms pinned. When he looked at her, the edges of her vision went black. She could hear the sounds of a police siren somewhere from a long way away as she crumpled to the gravel.
The first thing she saw was deep brown eyes full of concern. Strong hands lifted her up and she let herself be pulled into Craig’s embrace. Strange scents assaulted her – a combination of sweat, starch, and something like bleach surrounded her as she clutched at his shirt, sobbing with residual terror.
“It’s okay, Sara. I’m here. He’s gone. It’s gonna be fine.” His soft, melodious voice soothed her. She took a shuddering breath and let go of him to rub at her eyes but nearly fell down again when her knees shook too violently to hold her up. Craig led her to the porch steps. Her head throbbed and the skin on her face burned as the adrenaline whooshed out of her body. He sat and put an arm around her shoulders.
“Relax, it’s over,” he muttered into her ear. She nodded but burst into tears, then leaned into him noting the bleach smell again coming from his soft blonde hair. Craig stood up and blocked her view when the cops marched the would-be rapist to the patrol car. While she tried not to throw up, they shoved him into the back, conferred with another set of uniforms that had arrived in the meantime, and made way for the paramedics. Sara waved them away. “I’m fine, just scared,” she declared, not wanting anyone in her space but Craig.
He sat beside her again and tipped her face up to look at him. His dark eyes blazed with intensity.
“Sara, you took a hit, remember. Let them check it out,” he insisted running a finger over her stinging cheek. She clutched at his sleeve.
“Okay, but stay here with me.” He nodded at the paramedics and kept an arm around her while they did their concussion check. They declared her fine, if severely shaken up. After rubbing some ointment on her face, they gave her orders to get to the ER if she felt nauseous.
As the ER guy walked toward the ambulance, Jack’s Corvette wheeled into the driveway with a roar. Sara gasped when he leapt out of the car and ran over to them clad in full golf outing gear, complete with spiked shoes.
“What the hell happened?” He glared around at the police cars and ambulance. Sara stood on shaky legs and he crushed her to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get your message. I was out on the course.” He ran a hand down her hair and her back. Sara’s body convulsed with tremors again. He held her at arm’s length, took in the crumpled skirt and her attempt to hold her ripped shirt together. “Dear God, did he hurt you?” His eyes were wild with fury. He looked around at the cop car. “Hey, where is this asshole?” he yelled to them. “Sit here. I’ll be right back.” Craig hadn’t moved so she sat back next to him, soothed by the warmth of his body.
Jack stomped over to the group of cops conferring next to their car. He waved his arms around and yelled until one of them put an arm around his shoulders and led him away. Sara hiccupped again and laid her head on Craig’s shoulder. The cop and Jack appeared in front of them.
“Sara,” Jack said, drawing her to her feet. “You need to answer some questions, then I’ll take you home.” He glanced at Craig and stuck out his hand. “The police tell me you were the one who alerted them. You probably saved her life. Thanks a lot.” He pumped Craig’s hand and slapped him on the shoulder. “Seriously, thank you.” He looked over at Sara and pulled her close. Craig nodded at Jack but spoke to Sara.
“I told you not to come out here, you know,” he reminded her, his gaze still full of worry.
She pulled herself free of Jack’s arm and flung herself around Craig’s neck, noting that laundry-fresh smell that permeated him and the feel of his strong shoulders under her grasp. He was smaller than Jack but no less strong, or brave, or…
“Thank you,” she sobbed as tears started flowing again. “I promise to listen next time.”
“No, you probably won’t but that’s what makes you, you.” Craig grinned at her. Jack’s eyes narrowed at the young blonde man as he mounted his Ducati, set his helmet in place, and waved before pulling out onto the country road. Jack tugged her back down on the step and sat with her as she gave her report to the cop. She broke down, describing how the man had chased her out of the house and slammed her against her own car. Jack blew out a puff of air and held her closer. She could sense his anger as if it were a wild animal circling their ankles, ready to pounce.
Once the questioning was finished, Jack tucked her into the passenger seat of his car and shut the door before conferring with the cop
s one last time. He gestured toward the man in the back of the official vehicle. Sara stared straight ahead, numb and shivering, as Jack got in, turned the key, and pulled out of the driveway, pointing the car toward Ann Arbor. She turned her aching head and watched as his jaw flexed and clenched.
“What made you think coming out here alone after a single phone call was the smart thing to do?” he asked as he shifted gears. She stared at him. Her face flushed. “That goes against everything you’re trained to do, Sara, goddamn it!”
“You know what, I was just attacked. Nearly raped. Save the lecture for another time.” She reached for the phone Craig had pressed back into her hand after he retrieved it from the gravel. She hit Blake’s quick dial number.
Jack sighed and glanced at her as she told her brother what had happened. After filling her ear he demanded to talk to Jack, so she handed the phone over. Jack had a brief conversation with him, gave Blake his address, and handed it back to her, his face grim. “That went well.” He sighed.
“Yeah, he’s a little overprotective. This is exactly the sort of thing that makes him nuts.” She closed her eyes and realized she could just as easily be referring to her relationship with Jack as to her recent brush with sexual assault as a reason for Blake to go ballistic.
Tears formed, and she let them flow down her still smarting face. Jack put a hand on her leg. “Jesus Christ, Sara, please don’t do that to me again.” Sara took a long, shuddering breath and put her hand on his. He twined his fingers in hers, bringing her hand to his lips. “When I saw the ambulance I…” He shook his head. “Look, just use common sense, please.” He let her hand go to downshift as they approached Ann Arbor.