A Home of Her Own

by Brenda Novak

  But her memories wouldn’t let her. So she took the bed apart and dragged the pieces, mattresses and all, into her mother’s room, where she’d be certain to remember who and what she was—and why Mike Hill was completely out of reach.

  After she’d managed to put the bed back together, she finally fell asleep. But long before morning she opened her eyes wide to stare at the glowing digits of her alarm clock. 11:00 p.m.

  Something had awakened her—but what?

  A moment later, she knew. She heard movement on the stairs.

  Someone was in the house.

  The hair stood up on the back of her neck, but she took a deep breath and told herself to calm down. It had to be Mike. Who else would it be? Who else even lived in the area? “Hello?” she called.

  There was no answer, but when she sat up she could see light creeping through the crack beneath the door. She’d turned off all the lights before bed….

  “Who is it?” she called again.

  “She’s in the master.”

  “I heard her, you idiot.”

  The gruff voices, voices she didn’t immediately recognize, sent needlelike chills down her spine as footsteps pounded along the hall. Her door banged open, hitting the inside wall with a crash before Lucky could scramble out of bed.

  She screamed and tried to roll to her right, but the two men bursting into the bedroom reached her before she could escape. Clawing fingers grabbed and gouged, and her hands were forced above her head. Jon Small straddled her waist. Smalley hovered over Jon’s shoulder, holding a baseball bat.

  “Where is it?” Jon demanded.

  Breathing heavily from fear and their brief tussle, Lucky struggled to keep calm. It was the Smalls. She knew them. She didn’t think they’d bring her serious harm. But the memory of Smalley banging her head into the pay phone made it difficult to look away from the bat he slapped so menacingly against one hand. She tried to speak, but her throat was so dry she could hardly get the words out. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

  “You have something we want.”

  Jon fairly reeked of alcohol, and the solicitous smile she’d seen him wear on earlier occasions was gone. His expression now closely mimicked the slit-eyed, thuglike menace she saw in Smalley’s face.

  The Smalls were stupid, but not truly dangerous, she reminded herself. They had jobs, families, respect. Too much to lose. “Get off me,” she said, managing to put some conviction in her voice. “You’re drunk.”

  “Give me the proof you told our father you’ve got, and you won’t have anything to worry about,” Jon said.

  Lucky thought of her mother’s journal. She’d come to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth the paper it was written on. She couldn’t find Eugene Thompson, but she felt fairly certain he wouldn’t want to know her any more than Dave Small or Garth Holbrook did. The information in that journal had turned out to be another huge disappointment. But it could still ruin lives—lives like Garth Holbrook’s—if it fell into the wrong hands.

  “Go to hell.” She’d be damned if she’d give anything to Jon and Smalley. She wouldn’t be the helpless little girl she’d once been, wouldn’t be stripped of the power she’d gained as an adult in charge of her own life.

  Surprise registered on Jon’s face. He glanced back at Smalley, who cursed and smashed the bat into the bed.

  The air stirred near Lucky’s ear as the wood landed with a frightening thwump only inches away.

  “You want to say that again?” Smalley taunted.

  The light filtering in from the hall showed Lucky how eager he was to force what he wanted out of her, but she still wouldn’t bend. When her mother was alive, she’d been too young to fight the events and circumstances that had left such a mark on her life. She hadn’t been able to make a positive difference to anything, hadn’t been able to make sure that Morris was treated as he should’ve been treated. But she was older now. She could resist whatever she had the guts to resist, and she’d had enough. The people in Dundee weren’t going to push her one more inch.

  “Go to hell,” she repeated.

  Jon’s grip tightened painfully on her wrists. “What now?” he demanded of his brother. “You said she’d cough it up in a heartbeat.”

  Lucky flinched as Smalley hit the bed again. “Where is it?”

  “What is it?” Jon asked. “We could probably find it if we knew what we were looking for.”

  Lucky glared up at them and refused to say a word. Defiance lent her strength, felt oddly liberating despite her fear. They wouldn’t win. She wouldn’t let them win. Deep down she knew she couldn’t. The woman she’d become would disappear completely if she did.

  “Smalley?” Jon said.

  Doubt had crept into Jon’s voice, but if Smalley was having seconds thoughts, it wasn’t obvious. Deep grooves appeared between his mouth and jowl-like cheeks as he smiled. “Strip her.”

  Sheer terror seized Lucky. “Wh-what are you going to do?”

  Smalley chuckled. “Give us whatever you’ve got that connects our father to your mother, and you won’t have to find out.”

  “I—I could be your sister,” she choked out.

  Jon grimaced as though only now realizing the implications, but Smalley laughed. “At least you’re prettier than our other one.”

  Self-preservation demanded she give them the journal and be done with it. She could call the police in the morning and report them. But Senator Holbrook’s reputation would be ruined by then. And unless they hurt her badly, she knew the police wouldn’t do anything. She meant nothing to this town.

  “Lucky?” She suspected Jon felt the tremors going through her because he said her name with hope. She longed to capitulate, but she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she did. She wouldn’t sacrifice her self-respect. It was all she had.

  “I don’t care what you do,” she said. “I won’t give you anything.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  MIKE WAS AWAKENED by the sound of an engine revving up and then down the road. Every time he thought it was gone, it would break the quiet once again.

  Finally, he got up. It had to be a bunch of drunken kids drag racing, he decided. If he didn’t put a stop to it, someone could get hurt.

  Cursing because he’d just fallen asleep after hours of tossing and turning, he pulled on his jeans and an old T-shirt and yanked on his coat. Then he grabbed a rifle and headed outside, only to find the road empty.

  He walked down to the end of the drive and looked both ways. Nothing. Of course they would’ve gone home now that he’d bothered to drag his tired ass out of bed.

  He stood there for several minutes, heard nothing and turned back. Before he reached the house, however, the distant sound of a motor hummed on the cold night air.

  Mike crossed to his Escalade and sat on the back bumper, resting the butt of the rifle on his thigh as he waited. The truck—he could see it was a truck now, judging by the height of the headlights—was drawing closer. When it was only a few miles away, he moved into the middle of the road and fired a couple of shots into the sky to make sure he got the driver’s attention.

  At first Mike thought whoever was behind the wheel wasn’t going to stop. He was about to jump out of the way when the truck slowed and Smalley stuck his head out the window. “What do you want, Hill?”

  Mike could see someone sitting in the passenger seat and guessed it was Jon. Smalley and Jon spent a lot of time raising hell together. “What are you two doing out here?”

  “Just havin’ a bit of fun.” Smalley glanced at his brother for confirmation, but from what Mike could see through the front windshield Jon wasn’t smiling. Jon didn’t seem to be having any fun.

  “It’s getting late. How ’bout you go home or at least have your fun somewhere else?”

  “We keepin’ you up?”

  “I wouldn’t be standing out here if I could sleep.”

  “Okay, sure thing,” Smalley said, but before he could drive away, Mike heard someone call his
name, softly, shakily and seemingly out of the darkness. Mystified, he put a hand on Smalley’s beefy arm, which was dangling out of the cab along with his head, and peered into the bed of the truck. There he found Lucky tied to the side, wearing nothing but a lacy bra and a pair of white panties. Her hair looked like she’d been through a wind tunnel, and she was shivering violently.

  “Lucky?” He set his rifle aside and peeled off his coat.

  The truck lurched as Smalley put the engine in Park and climbed out. “Hey, leave her be.”

  Mike’s heart thumped wildly as he hopped into the back. What the hell was going on?

  “This is between Lucky and us,” Smalley said. “She knows what she needs to do to get out of there, don’t you, Lucky?”

  “G-go to hell,” she murmured, but she looked beaten. She sat on the cold metal of the truck bed, curled into as much of a ball as she could manage with her hands bound to the side.

  Smalley clucked his tongue and shook his head. “See how stubborn she is? Oh, well. We just got started. She’ll be singin’ a different tune when she’s had enough.”

  “She’s finished now,” Mike said, wrapping his coat around her, then working as quickly as possible to untie her.

  Smalley scowled. “Hey, slow down a minute, Mike. This here’s none of your business.”

  “It is now.”

  A grunt reached Mike’s ears as Smalley reached over the side to stop him, but Mike gave him such a murderous look that he backed off. “You’ll be hearing from me once I have her safe.”

  “There’s no need to act so damn self-righteous,” Smalley said. “Everyone knows you don’t like her any better’n we do. No one does.”

  Mike clenched his teeth. Obviously Lucky hadn’t heeded his advice and kept her mouth shut about her possible connection to Dave. Mike couldn’t think of any other explanation. “What did you figure this would accomplish, Smalley?” he demanded, growing frustrated with the knots. “Where’re her clothes?”

  “Hell if I know. I’m such a prize, I couldn’t keep her from strippin’ down.” Smalley wheezed as he laughed at his own bad joke.

  Mike didn’t know he was going to do it—he didn’t know until he lurched halfway out of the truck bed and his fist met Smalley’s fleshy face. But that moment of impact was immensely satisfying, especially when Smalley stumbled and fell backward, then blinked stupidly up at him from where he lay sprawled in the road.

  “You ever touch her again, you’ll need crutches,” Mike said. “Do you understand?” He slapped the back window to make sure he had Jon’s attention, too. “Do you understand?”

  Jon climbed out and cut through the glare of the headlights to reach his brother. “Jeez, Mike, what’s gotten into you? I think you might’ve broken Smalley’s nose.”

  Judging by the blood, Mike thought Jon was probably right. He hoped it was broken. A broken nose was less than Smalley deserved. “That isn’t all I’m going to break if the two of you so much as look at Lucky again.” Finally the knots came free and he swung himself over the side before turning back to get her.

  With Jon’s help, Smalley clambered to his feet. “I can’t believe you did this,” he complained. “I can’t believe you busted up my face over a…a two-bit—”

  “Don’t say it,” Mike warned, but Smalley wasn’t thinking fast enough to stop himself.

  “Whore,” he finished, and Mike hit him again.

  “Mike!” Jon tried to catch his staggering, three-hundred-pound brother and wound up falling to the blacktop with him.

  Rage and adrenaline surged through Mike, but he shook the sting out of his fingers and ignored the Small brothers as he spoke gently to Lucky. He needed to get her inside before she ended up with pneumonia. “Come on, Lucky,” he said. “Lean out. I’ll help you.”

  She was shaking so badly, she could hardly hold his coat around her, but she managed to do as he asked, and he pulled her into his arms.

  “Lucky stole your damn inheritance,” Jon said. “She’s living in your grandfather’s freakin’ house—and you make enemies out of us, just because we’re trying to give her a little motivation to—” His brother made a noise of warning or complaint, Mike couldn’t tell which, and Jon seemed to be more cautious about his next words “—to move on down the road?”

  Mike shifted Lucky closer to his chest. “From now on, no one hurts Lucky or they answer to me.”

  Smalley shoved his massive body into a sitting position and wiped the blood pouring from his nose. “People aren’t going to like this, Mike.”

  Smalley’s voice held a distinct threat, which made Mike turn back. “I already know about your father and Red, Smalley. You cause any more trouble, and I won’t be the only one.”

  MIKE LEANED against the kitchen counter, still too angry to sit.

  Lucky sipped a cup of coffee at his kitchen table, just as she had the night she’d first arrived in town almost four weeks ago—only this time he was glad, relieved, to have her there. What if he’d been sleeping as soundly as usual and hadn’t heard Smalley’s truck? What if he hadn’t gotten up?

  At the thought of her being treated in such a cruel, demeaning manner, his jaw tightened and his right hand curled into a fist. Too bad the Smalls had driven off as soon as Jon could get his brother into the truck, because Mike wanted to hit someone again.

  “Tell me exactly what happened,” he said. He knew she’d been through a harrowing ordeal, but he’d been stewing for more than an hour while she recuperated in the bath, and the thought of what might have occurred if he hadn’t stopped it scared the hell out of him. “What were they doing? Threatening you to keep quiet about the past?”

  Lucky stared into her cup so long he wondered if she was going to respond. Finally, she lifted her eyes. She was all bundled up, wearing his sweats and slippers and bathrobe—evidence that she was still trying to get her body temperature under control. But her thick, curly hair, the hair he loved to touch, fell down her back in shiny waves, and her skin glowed with a comforting, healthy sheen. She looked fine, which should’ve helped. Except he kept seeing her tied up, nearly naked and absolutely blue with cold, and the memory provoked him all over again.

  “They wanted me to give them my mother’s journal,” she said.

  “You told them about the journal?” He realized he was shouting and lowered his voice. “Damn it, Lucky. You had to know Dave wouldn’t be happy about that. I warned you he might be dangerous.”

  “I didn’t tell him about the journal, exactly. I merely alluded to the fact that I knew he’d been with my mother and that I had proof.” She lifted her chin and gave him that “no one pushes me around” look he couldn’t help admiring, especially after everything she’d been through.

  “When?”

  “At the Honky Tonk the night you drove me home. Dave let me know he wasn’t too pleased that I’d returned. I let him know I didn’t care.”

  “I’m waiting for the part where you told him you had enough information about the past to ruin his reputation and possibly his career.”

  “I guess that would be when he insulted my mother.”

  Insulted her mother? Everyone insulted her mother. Mike might have chuckled had the situation been less dire.

  “Smalley cornered me by the bathroom that night, and you found me in the hall,” she went on. “You thought I was drunk.”

  “You weren’t?”

  “I was, sort of, but that wasn’t why I hit the ground.”

  “They hurt you that night?”

  “A little.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” He was nearly shouting again. Taking a deep breath, he continued more calmly. “You should’ve let me put a stop to it right away. You could have frozen to death out there, Lucky. What if I hadn’t come out?”

  “I’m sure they didn’t expect to see you. It’s Christmas, it’s late, your house is set back. They were just driving up and down a public road.”

  “They were trying to keep your house tantalizingly close.
”

  “That, too.” She toyed with the Sweet’n Low packets his cook always left in the middle of the table. “Anyway, if they thought you’d care about what was happening, they probably would’ve taken me somewhere else.”

  “Shows you how stupid they are. I wouldn’t let them treat anyone that way. Least of all—” He’d been about to say “least of all you,” but he didn’t feel ready to deal with the fact that it wasn’t simply cruelty to others that had him so riled up. In hurting Lucky, the Smalls had somehow trespassed against him. He tried to convince himself that it was merely because Lucky was now his neighbor, but he knew it was more than that. He would’ve been angry no matter who the Smalls had abused, but he wouldn’t have been quite this angry.

  “Least of all a woman,” he finished stiffly and turned to pour himself some coffee before she could read the truth on his face.

  “Well, they didn’t get what they wanted, that’s the main thing.” She smiled as though her words held great significance, but Mike was fixated on the fact that she could’ve stopped them and hadn’t.

  “Why didn’t you give them the damn journal and be done with it?”

  The smile disappeared. “I couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  She sighed. “I don’t really want to go into this, Mike.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore.” She pushed her coffee aside and stood up. “I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”

  He could tell by the resolve in her voice that she didn’t mean she was heading home. She was leaving town.

  He tried to draw a deep breath but couldn’t quite overcome the impact of her words. “The Victorian isn’t finished yet,” he said, even though he was supposed to be making her a huge offer to get her to do exactly what she’d just told him she was going to do. They could find Gabe another place. Mike couldn’t imagine anyone, even his best friend, living in Lucky’s house.