Yours for the Night

by Samantha Hunter

  “I want to go do more work on those names—see what I can find. I have to figure out how to, um, get past some particularly tricky obstacles.”

  She nodded, wondering what the obstacles might be. “Okay, me, too.”

  “Why don’t you go up to bed. It’s late, and I’ll probably be a while.”

  “No, that’s okay, anyway I won’t be able to sleep wi—” She stopped short, her words stuck in her throat. Without you. I won’t be able to sleep without you is what she almost said. The truth of it stunned her, froze her in her tracks. “Um, with having just eaten dessert. Indigestion. Can I keep you company for a while? Maybe I can help.”

  He looked at her intently, wondering what caused the quick flash of dismay in her eyes, but he nodded, and grabbed her hand, walking with her into the office.

  * * *

  RAINE AWOKE to see Jack still staring intently at the computer, tapping keys, and taking notes, just as he had been hours ago when she had nodded off. Crossing over to him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind, snuggling into his warmth.

  “What time is it?”

  “A little after two.”

  “Time for bed, huh? Did you find anything?”

  He grunted. “Nothing notable. Maybe this wasn’t the best strategy.”

  She squeezed his shoulders, and shivered. “It’s the best idea we have right now. And I appreciate you doing all this detective work while I fell asleep in the chair.”

  He craned his head back, and kissed her softly.

  “You cold?”

  “It’s gotten a little chilly in here.”

  He moved forward, disentangling himself, and stood. “The fire must have died down—I need to go out and get more wood. It will only take a few minutes to get it warmed up in here, then we can go to bed.”

  Heat leaped between them as he uttered those completely mundane but deeply intimate words. He found that love made everything, even the slightest moment, richer and more meaningful. He walked to the door, shrugging on a jacket and sending her a warm look.

  “Back in a minute.”

  15

  IT WAS BITTER COLD outside, and Jack grabbed his work gloves as he walked out back toward a large stack of split wood. It was a crisp, moonless night, and he stood for a moment, taking a deep, refreshing breath.

  The snow from the recent storm lay like a sparkling blanket on the landscape. He was exhausted—but he was happy, and warm with anticipation of going back to the house to spend the night with the woman he loved. The woman I love. I love Raine Covington.

  He laughed to himself, feeling a little giddy, like the teenager who’d had a crush on her so many years ago, but this time he wasn’t just watching her from afar. She was his now; he wanted it to stay that way.

  He leaned over to grab some firewood, and tumbled forward, plunging hard into the dark, snowy corner when something cracked him on the head. He lay there, collapsed against the woodpile, fighting the darkness creeping over his consciousness.

  His attacker, just a shadow skulking in the dim light, strode quickly back to the house.

  * * *

  IN THE DEN, Raine lost the battle and dozed off. She smiled when she felt a caressing hand on her cheek awaken her. She raised her hands, put them on shoulders that were close to hers and registered immediately that something was wrong. Her hands knew Jack’s body intimately, and she knew the broad feel of his chest and shoulders—and this wasn’t it.

  Too slight. Too narrow.

  Alarmed, she cried out, pushing wildly at the shadow in front of her, striking out with her legs and catching him unexpectedly, toppling him over the coffee table.

  She heard the resulting crash and a string of vile curses as she bolted over the side of the sofa and ran toward the door. Jack. Where was Jack? She screamed his name. Just making it to the door, she reached out to open it, but was tugged back rudely by the hair, her scalp screaming with the force of it. Pain shot up her arm when she smashed her elbow into the wall as she was dragged backward almost off her feet.

  “Sit down, dammit!” The voice that yelled at her was high and almost whiny, and she felt herself shoved down into the couch cushions, where she sat and tried to focus on the face across from her. The fire was gone now, and light entered the den dimly from the office down the hall, so it was hard to make out details.

  The figure paced back and forth in front of her, grumbling to himself, and she felt a prick of familiarity at the back of her mind—the stature, something in the voice—and she struggled through her fear to place it.

  Neal.

  It was Neal, though he looked different. Not the quiet, reserved young man who had sat across the table from her earlier in the evening; his hair was tossed about, and his face deathly pale except for the red splotches on his cheeks.

  For a moment, she was too shocked to think about her situation—Neal was the one who had been harassing her? He was staring at her now, staring through her as if he was trying to read her thoughts, and she looked away, a new wave of terror overcoming her. She leaped up from the couch, which had him crossing the room, and she spun on him, screaming at him.

  “Where’s Jack? What have you done with Jack?”

  He walked up and grabbed her by the neck, yanking her close to him, and she fought, flailing, but he was surprisingly strong and dug his fingers painfully into the soft skin behind her ear to keep her still.

  “Lover boy? Oh, I took care of him. I took care of him but good. I wouldn’t be counting on any help from your precious Jack.” He grinned, and Raine felt the coldness of it down to her bones. “Besides, what do you need him for? You have me now.”

  She fought again, not caring about the pain of his fingers in her skin, and finally he drew his hand back and the strong slap against her cheek tumbled her back on the sofa. She felt tears sting her eyes, and looked up at him. He was standing over her, his voice shaking.

  “I didn’t want to do that! I don’t hit women, don’t like to hit them—why do you keep making me do these things?” He looked at her, his face contorted with rage. “Bitch. You’re all bitches. Every last one of you. I thought you might be nicer, different, but you aren’t. A whore, just like all of them.”

  Raine felt weak with fear. “Why, Neal? Why would you do this? I don’t even know you—”

  His face momentarily softened, then contorted with anger again. “You didn’t want to know me. You met me before him—I watched you at work, I tried to get to know you, and you all but ignored me. Vague pleasantries—that’s all you ever offered. The things people say when they really want you to leave them alone. But then you found him, and you didn’t tell him to leave you alone, did you? Sluts—you’re all sluts.”

  He turned on her, spitting mad.

  “But you were mine first. He had no right—neither did you. I knew you were meant to be mine. And you would have been if he hadn’t interfered. I just needed more time. Now we have the time.”

  Raine raised her hand to where the side of her face was stinging, and tried to comprehend what he was saying. It didn’t seem right—Neal? She thought back to the times she’d dealt with him at work, but she couldn’t remember any of their encounters clearly.

  “I tried to do nice things, tried to get to know you—the only way I could get around you, or get any information about you was with Gwen—”

  Raine’s eyes flew open, and she sat forward. “No—you haven’t hurt her, Neal, please say you haven’t.”

  He made a disgusted face. “Hardly. I just gave her a little something so she would sleep really sound tonight. She thinks she’s in love with me—so stupid. But she was convenient—she liked to talk about you, and she was an easy lay. I figured it was practice until I could get the real thing. I’m good, you know—very good. Gwen even said so.” His smile was sly. Raine felt her skin crawl, but made her voice sound as calm as she could.

  “You can’t get away with this, Neal. Gwen will know. Everyone will know.”

  “No one
knows anything! I’m taking you out of here with me tonight, and no one will know anything.” He smiled again, moving closer. “As for your former boyfriend, I figure he’ll die of exposure. Sad, but necessary. I can’t afford to have him around. They’ll just think he fell down getting some wood, smashed his head on a log and died from being out in the cold too long. That’s how I planned it.”

  Raine felt her stomach twist and her whole body began to shake as she realized that Jack was hurt, maybe dying, and she was trapped in here with Neal. She had to do something—had to figure out a way to get to Jack.

  She looked up at Neal, the change in his voice alerting her to something dangerous, and she felt shivers run down her back. He was standing closer now, and he looked at her almost—gently? He made a clucking noise and stepped closer to her.

  “Oh, I’ve upset you—don’t be upset about him, you have me now. I can take care of you. All I want to do, all I have wanted to do is be with you, take care of you.” He reached out to touch her face. “Touch you.” She pulled back, and saw the flash of anger in his face, and stopped herself. Swallowing her fear and the vile repulsion that surged through her, she made herself smile as she looked up at him.

  “I’m sorry, Neal. I don’t want to hurt you—please don’t hurt me.”

  He leaned down over her, and she felt the tears choke her. She only had one shot to save Jack and herself. Neal was focused on her now, stretching out to touch her again, and speaking to her in that nasal-thin, quavering voice.

  “I don’t want to hurt you—I love you.” He strummed his fingers down her arm, and she tried to hold herself steady, not giving in to the repulsion that followed the path of his cold, clammy touch. He braced his knee on the edge of the sofa, his hot breath suffocating her as he leaned even closer, pressing his moist mouth to her temple.

  Focusing—focusing hard—she placed her hands on his shoulders, turning her face to his, and he sighed, obviously pleased, and kissed her. Mustering all her will to kiss him back so that she could keep him distracted, she blanked her mind of the urge to throw up.

  She shifted a little farther under him as a groan of desire rattled from Neal’s chest. She thought she heard a noise behind her—Jack. It had to be Jack! She twisted underneath Neal’s groping hands, at once pushing down on his shoulders and bringing her knee up into his crotch—hard. As he sucked in a sharp breath, she dug her fingers into his shoulders and brought her knee up again, for good measure.

  “Raine!” Jack staggered into the doorway just in time to see Neal doubled up over Raine and keening in pain. Jack tried to make his body move faster, but the crushing pain in his head was holding him back. When he stepped forward the room spun; he had to stop and grab on to the door frame and catch his breath.

  He saw Raine stand, and tried to focus his blurred vision—Neal—it was Neal?—Jesus. It was Neal. He watched in disbelief as Raine jumped up from the sofa, pushing hard at Neal, causing him to fall backward over the coffee table, his head hitting the floor with a thud. He stayed there, curled up and making strangled sounds. Jack blinked, trying to comprehend what was happening, and steadied himself.

  “Rainey…”

  “Jack! Oh, my God.” She rushed to him, and he felt the welcome relief of her hands on him, and her lips touching his face, her wet cheeks against his.

  “Raine—God, did he… Are you…okay?”

  Raine looked back at Neal, lying helplessly on the floor.

  “He’s not getting up for a while. I’m okay.” She felt another wave of nausea as the memory of Neal’s hands and lips washed over her. Needing to erase it, she got closer and kissed Jack, and set her forehead to his, trying to catch her breath. Then she stepped away, and picked up a poker from the fireplace, handing it to him, just in case. “Stay here—I’m calling the police.”

  Jack nodded, his vision cleared again—it seemed to come and go. He had barely found his way back to the house, feared he might have just as easily ended up in the water as he struggled through the dark. His face felt raw from where he had fallen face-first into the woodpile, and his head was spinning, but he kept his eye on Neal, holding the poker firmly in his hand.

  Raine came back, took the poker from him and urged him forward to the sofa. Neal was curled up on the floor, whimpering now, mumbling unintelligible things. Jack looked at him and wished they were both standing so he could kick his sorry ass, but then Raine had already done a pretty good job of that. He turned, only to find her gone again, and panicked for a second, until he saw her return, with a wet rag and an ice pack.

  “The police will be here very shortly.”

  She steadied his head so she could wash some of the blood from the cuts on his face, and felt her stomach clench when her fingers felt the stickiness on the back of his head. He winced, going pale. She pulled her hand away and saw blood on her palm, Jack’s blood, and choked.

  “Oh, no, Jack…”

  He reached out to hold her, but his voice slurred and she felt her skin turn to ice, unsure of what to do. “S’okay Rainey.... He hit me with something.... I’m sure it’s not that bad.... Don’t worry.”

  At that moment Raine saw the flashing lights in the window, and managed to get up on her wobbly legs, rushing to the door to let the officers in.

  “I need an ambulance, he’s hurt! Please, hurry....” She pointed to Jack.

  Over the radio, they called an ambulance, and crossed the room to where Jack lay on the sofa.

  “Ma’am, can you tell us what happened here?”

  She rattled through what happened and pointed to Neal. She suggested they contact Detective Delaney.

  “Do you have any proof this is the man who has been harassing you?”

  Jack’s voice interrupted, a bare croak, but there. “Except for the fact that he just tried to kill us?”

  Raine shot the officer a look, and went to Jack, sitting down next to him as two other officers attended to Neal.

  “He told me—he told me it was him, and why.”

  The cop nodded. “Okay, you both need to go to the hospital, we’re going to investigate the scene, and we’ll contact Delaney—we’ll need your statement as soon as you can give it.”

  Jack nodded, and Raine pushed him gently back against the sofa, murmuring to him as she heard sirens from the ambulances coming up the road. The cops were handcuffing Neal, and reading him his rights even as he lay there on the floor still moaning. Suddenly she started to shake.

  She heard the door open again, and she was very cold. It must be from all the frigid air coming in from the door, she figured. There was a lot of noise, and she couldn’t seem to stop her teeth from chattering, no matter how hard she tried.

  She watched them lift Neal onto a stretcher, blinking. It didn’t seem quite real. Someone was kneeling by her and saying something, but she just gazed at him blankly. Somehow understanding that it was over, she let herself slide into the relief of oblivion.

  * * *

  IT WAS A FULL WEEK later when Raine was helping Jack back to his house. She had only been kept overnight in the hospital for observation, but he had sustained some serious head injuries and had been hospitalized for a week. Gwen had also been admitted overnight, after she told the police that Neal had drugged her—fortunately, it hadn’t been a lethal dose. It was over now, and they could relax.

  It was all cut-and-dried, according to the prosecutors, with the abundance of evidence implicating Neal that the police had uncovered while going through his home and computers. He apparently had a long but previously undetected habit of email harassment and internet theft. His most serious charge—attempted murder—would send him away for a good long time.

  Jack mulled it all over as they pulled in to his driveway, flexing his fist and wishing he could have a go at Neal’s face now that he was fully recovered. But it was over and it was time to move on. He looked at Raine and smiled—move on to better things. Yeah.

  “Well, let me get your case and we’ll go inside—”

&nbs
p; “Raine, I’m not an invalid. I’m able to carry my own case. I feel as good as new.”

  The worry was still apparent in her eyes, and she stubbornly took the case from the backseat, reaching up to slide her hand gently over the back of his head, over the stubbly spot where the doctor had shaved his gorgeous hair and stitched up his wound.

  “Yeah, you’re a real tough guy. Just let me take it, okay?”

  He decided maybe it wasn’t so bad to be taken care of, after all, and grasped her hand as they walked up the steps. The house was cool, but it felt good to be home. As soon as the door was closed, Jack showed Raine just exactly how recovered he was feeling. Sliding his arms around her, he pinned her firmly against the door, fitting his mouth over hers before she could so much as take a breath. She melted into him, heat flaring as he moved his mouth across her cheek, nuzzling her.

  “Maybe I will need a little help, you know, getting my clothes off....”

  She laughed and squirmed in his hold. “Jack, we just got in, you should sit down....”

  He growled against her ear. “I’ll sit down if you sit on my lap....”

  She giggled, and didn’t believe it—she never giggled. Realizing that made her giggle more as he kissed her face, and she playfully shoved him away.

  His expression was passionate, but amused, and he backed up, holding her hand. As they stepped into the foyer, he looked into the den, and remembered the last time he had come through this door. Clinging to the door frame, barely able to stand, he’d seen Neal leaning over Raine, watched her fighting him off, feeling sick with helplessness. He shook his head in disgust at the memory.

  “Ouch.” Raine tugged her hand from his. “You’re squeezing too hard.”

  “Oh, hell. I’m sorry, baby. I just…”

  She touched his face. “It’s okay. I know, the memory of it hits you when you walk back in. Me, too. I almost couldn’t stay here alone the first night, but it wears off soon. Get some food, a fire, and the house feels better.”