“Here you go,” she murmured to Rock as she emptied a can of tuna into his dish. He waited for her to pet him and then he hunkered down and started to eat.
Nearly any guy would kill to have such a smooth setup—all the sex he wanted and no sticky commitment.
Nate wasn’t most guys, a little voice argued. She wouldn’t want him if he was. Therein lay her quandary, because it was Nate she wanted and only Nate. And yet…
She wasn’t actually averse to commitment, either, Annie thought as she headed for the shower. Just gunshy. She didn’t want to believe in something that wasn’t about to happen. Her giving Nathaniel a break didn’t mean that she’d have nirvana forever as a result. What if, once he had her—Nathaniel as well as Nate—he walked away? Annie didn’t know if it was a risk she was willing to take.
Showered and shampooed and feeling a little better a quarter of an hour later, she pulled on a cotton nightshirt and set out for bed. Rock hopped up beside her, then walked around to her pillow, where he wrapped himself around her head, pressed his paws into her scalp and snorted into her still-damp hair.
Annie laughed, patted him and cooed to him until he settled down to sleep.
Now thoughts and images of her and Nate together whirled in her mind, keeping her from falling asleep. She needed to do something physical, to wear off this sex-induced residual energy.
Might as well do something useful, she thought, getting up carefully so as not to disturb the cat.
A few minutes later, she was in the room where she and Nate had been intimate the other night. Thinking about the phone call and the tape, she hesitated in the doorway. But she’d already gone through the room, searching for a hidden microphone that didn’t exist. No doubt the pervert had done as the police suggested and had taped them from outside.
Still, she approached her task with a sense of unease. She started going through boxes, looking for things she could use to make her place feel more like home. Finding those frames again reminded her of the other night. Feeling a little tense, she was just setting them to one side when a sudden noise behind her made her start and whip around.
The cat had come to supervise.
“Oh, it’s only you.” Her heart sank back down out of her throat and her pulse settled as Rock investigated an open box. “Want to help me pick out some good stuff? Meow if you see something you like.”
A small lamp with a glass bead shade appealed to her. She plugged it in the wall outlet and was delighted to find it still worked. Perfect for her bedside.
She continued searching and sorting. Things she could use in her window displays went in one pile, things to bring downstairs to cheer up the place in another. The cat sat and watched her every movement with interest.
In the middle of combing through a box of crochet-trimmed hankies and doilies, Annie found her mind wandering back to her argument with Nate. How had that happened so quickly after they’d shared themselves with each other? she wondered. And what would he do to make her sorry?
“You definitely are the most reasonable male in my life,” she told Rock.
At the sound of her voice, the cat started to come to her, then stopped. Eyes wide on something behind her, back arched, he growled deep in his throat.
“Rock, honey, what—?”
Before she could ask him what was wrong—if he saw another rat or something—the cat zoomed past her and through the partially open door.
Spooked, her pulse fluttering as she remembered the other times the cat had growled like that—not all having to do with rodents—Annie decided to go back downstairs herself. Sorting estate treasures could wait. She set the box away from her and shot to her feet. But before she could leave the room, the door slammed with a loud bam! as if closed by an invisible hand.
Annie froze and stared at the wooden panel. “Is someone there?” she blurted out, before realizing the ridiculousness of asking. If someone had broken into the place, he certainly wouldn’t be so civilized as to answer.
Her stalker?
Her pulse pounded in dread even as she tried to convince herself that a draft had shut the door. Maybe no one was there. After all, how would he have gotten in? Crossing to the door, she tried to turn the knob, but just as in the janitor’s closet, she was locked in from the outside.
Nate had assured her the lock had simply jammed, but it was too much to believe that could happen twice in as many days. Someone had purposely jammed them both.
Heart in her throat, she banged on the door. “Open up, coward!” she yelled. “Open up and face me, if you’re man enough!”
In answer, the lights went out.
Annie tried not to hyperventilate as she felt her way to the small lamp she’d found and flipped the switch. Nothing! The power had been cut. If she’d been frightened in the janitor’s closet, she was terrified now.
Locked in a room without electricity…without an escape hatch…without a weapon!
She couldn’t even defend herself, Annie realized. Not that someone was actually trying to hurt her. More like playing a sick game with her.
A game?
She shook her head and tried to clear it of all but positive thoughts, her only regret being that she’d chased off Nate when he could be here with her now.
The room did have windows. She ran to one that was open, slid it all the way up the track. She didn’t worry about locking the second-floor windows because they were so high that she figured no one could get to them without a ladder.
A gust of wind shot through the opening, pebbling her skin. She looked down at the ground, and found the drop was too far for her comfort zone—a leg breaker if she ever saw one. And she’d never been particularly athletic.
Now what?
Leaning out of the window, she saw that a shallow, decorative cement ledge several inches wide ran around the brick building, along the upper floor. Could she make it to a window in the other second-floor room and back inside? Hopefully, she’d left that one unlocked, as well. Her stomach knotted and she swallowed hard. She didn’t like heights!
But she could do this, she told herself. As long as she didn’t make the mistake of looking down, she could do it. Besides, what choice did she have? Her stalker could close in on her at any moment.
With trepidation, she climbed out of the window and felt for the ledge with her bare foot. Her stomach roiling, threatening to empty, she set her other foot down. She took a big breath and concentrated on the end goal. Flattening her back against the building, she inched to her left. Her toes curled along the edge with each step.
The night was quiet, eerily so. Annie strained to hear anything coming from within the building—like the stalker going nuts because he’d discovered she wasn’t locked in that room—but the only sound was the rustle of leaves when the wind picked up.
The moon slid in and out of cloud banks, but as she crept along the side of the building, her eyes adjusted and she was able to pick out details around her…like the conduit bringing electricity to the second floor.
With one careful motion, she grabbed on to it and swung herself around, facing the other window. Her stomach rocked but quickly settled. Now if only the damn thing would open, she thought, using the heel of one hand to shove up the sash.
It did!
“Thank you!” she whispered into the night.
If she could enter the room undiscovered, she could slip down the stairs and out the door….
Carefully, she climbed over the sill, then waited for a moment while her pulse steadied. No sound cut through the stillness, so she groped along the wall to the door. The knob turned and a taste of victory flushed through her.
Ear to the thick wood, she listened intently, but picked up no sound on the other side. Taking a deep breath for courage, she inched the door open just enough to slip out and down the hall to the staircase. She moved silently, her bare feet skimming the wood floor. Not daring to breathe too deeply, she could only hope that her stalker remained unaware of her escape attempt.
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br /> Counting steps until she got to the bottom, she studied the area around her, still dark but for the hint of moonlight coming from the high windows. No ominous shadows separated from the rest. Nothing moved.
She pictured herself escaping—crossing the entryway, unlocking the door and opening it, fleeing into the night. She wouldn’t be able to take Rock with her, but prayed the cat would stay hidden and safe until she could call for help.
It was time.
Without a whisper of sound she made it to the door and felt for the locks. But before her trembling fingers could get the dead bolt open, her arm was caught in a fierce grip.
Annie screamed and lashed out, trying to pull away, but her attacker was stronger than she and whipped her away from the door and into her living quarters.
“What do you want? Who are you? Why can’t you just let me be?”
“I’m your worst fantasy, Annie,” came whispered words that nearly sent her into shock.
“Who—?”
Again he whipped her around and pushed her back, and she felt something solid behind her knees before she fell backward onto her bed.
“No!” she screamed, thrashing with her free arm, hitting him with a closed fist, trying to roll as she felt him press down on her.
Her small size put her at a disadvantage. He grabbed her other wrist and easily pinned both hands above her head. Then he began to touch her, to seek a way under her nightgown. She bucked and tried to knee him, but she was already exhausted and, despite the adrenaline rush, couldn’t free herself.
Her skin crawled where he touched it and she realized that if she didn’t think of something, she would be another statistic.
“Stop!” she screamed at him. “What kind of a man are you that you have to force a woman?”
He whispered, “What kind of a woman gets off on it?”
Adrenaline shot through her and she used it to roll to one hip, unseating him. Off balance, he loosened his grip, and she freed a hand. And when he tried to recapture it, she caught one of his fingers and bent it back hard enough to make him grunt.
“Bitch!”
From somewhere nearby, she heard Rock hiss, then yowl. And then the cat sprang onto the bed and ran over her attacker’s back.
“Shit!” the man yelped, letting go of Annie long enough that she rolled out from under him and ran for the door. She heard the stalker rush after her, trip and fall and curse again.
Then she was out the door, running for all she was worth, ignoring the stones and other debris that bruised her feet. All she could think about was getting to Nate. But first she had to hide.
She ducked into a nearby alley, praying her stalker hadn’t seen which way she’d gone, and looked around wildly for cover. The garbage cans! She hunkered down behind one of the black resin units. On wheels, it would serve as a battering ram in case he caught up to her. In the meantime, she breathed deeply and calmed herself with thoughts of Nate and being safe in his arms. She replayed the image over and over, used it to clear her head.
Five minutes passed with no sounds indicating that anyone was after her.
Was her stalker still there? Inside her place? Waiting for her to be foolish enough to return?
Ten minutes.
Annie stood and tested her limbs. Everything was in working order. Nothing felt too abused but her bare feet. She crept back to the mouth of the alley to peek out at her street. No lights were on in her building. No one was moving around.
What to do? Should she go to some stranger’s house and pound at the door in the middle of the night? That would only draw attention to herself, perhaps unwanted attention.
Annie started walking down the street, thinking she would somehow get to Nate’s place. He would keep her safe. He would take her in his arms and then everything would be all right.
As she rounded a corner, she saw a vehicle coming and recognized the shape of lights atop it, the blue-and-white paint of a Chicago squad car.
Reeling with relief, she stood in the street and flagged down the cops on the beat.
14
THE SMELL OF FOOD tantalizing her nostrils pulled Annie up out of a deep sleep. At first she was disoriented. Strange bed. Strange room. And then she remembered Nate.
Still dressed, she rose and used his bathroom to freshen up before going downstairs. The kitchen, she noted as she entered, was perfection in boring maple and granite.
“I must be dreaming,” she said, sniffing the mouthwatering aroma and rubbing her eyes. “A man making me breakfast.”
“Actually, I had breakfast delivered.”
She focused on Nate working at the kitchen counter and thought she could get used to waking up to the sight every morning. “Still, the last time that happened was…well, never.”
“Then I’m a first.”
“In more ways than one,” she admitted as he invited her to sit at the table he’d set for two. Though he’d ordered out, he’d put the food on real plates. “How did I not hear the delivery person?”
“I waited at the door and took it from him before he could get to the buzzer.”
She took a taste of food and another and another. Watching her intently, Nate ate at a slower pace.
Then she broke the silence. “Nate, thanks. Really.”
“It’s just breakfast.”
“No, not that. Well, that, too. I mean for being there—here—when I needed you.”
“I just wish I hadn’t let you talk me out of taking you home last night. Then you never would have been attacked.”
Hunkered behind a garbage can, she’d wished the same thing. “My fault. I was freaking for nothing. All I did was bring bad luck down on myself.”
“About that. The bastard is still running free. He could come back. I think you should move into my place, at least until the police nab him.”
The food she was swallowing caught in her throat. She washed it down with a big gulp of coffee. Though she liked seeing Nate’s domestic side, she couldn’t make that big a leap in commitment. Yet he was right that she might not be safe at home for the moment.
“Helen wouldn’t mind a temporary roomie, I’m sure,” she mumbled.
“So you won’t consider staying here at my place.”
Nathaniel’s place, she thought, though she didn’t say it. “I don’t know you well enough to move in with you.”
“You know me well enough to have sex with me,” he countered. Frowning, he rose from the table. “I don’t believe this.”
“Nate, please…”
“Please what? Don’t be yourself, Nate? Play to my fantasies, Nate, and then disappear so I don’t have to think of you as a real person? Which fantasy does this whole scenario fit into?”
I’m your worst fantasy….
Annie shoved the food away from her and began to shake.
And Nate was at her side in a minute. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to upset you again.” He took her in his arms and held her close, as though he might never let her go. After a moment he said, “Call Helen and set it up. I’ll take you home to pack a bag and then deliver you to her place. And the cat, if you can find him.”
Rock had been hiding again. Her furry hero had come out to see for himself that she was all right and then had slunk away again.
“For all I know, he’s still hiding under the bed.” Realizing Nate was nearly as upset as she, Annie nodded. “All right. It’s a plan.”
The first thing she wanted to do after calling a too-quiet, too-calm Helen, was take a shower, something she hadn’t bothered with after the police left. She hadn’t wanted to let go of Nate even for a few minutes.
But in the clear light of day, she felt stronger, angrier. And while she washed away the remnants of last night’s terror, she tried to figure out how best to protect herself until the police arrested someone.
A vial of pepper spray was definitely in order. And maybe one of those personal alarms, noisier than a car alarm. And an attack dog…or maybe not. Rock had done her proud
. He was a real attack cat, she thought with a wry smile as she remembered him growling so fiercely.
That growl…she’d only heard him so upset those few times. The night she’d gotten the first letter and had called Nate, who’d then discovered the rat. The night of Helen’s birthday celebration. The day Annie had gotten the photographs. And last night.
Odd. And odd that Rock wouldn’t come out from under the bed for her when they got back to her place. With Nate by her side all the way, she checked and found him huddled in the middle.
“Hey, sweetheart, come on out.” But her wheedling got her nowhere.
“He’ll calm down eventually and come out to eat and use his litter,” Nate said. “We’ll just make sure he has what he needs.”
“I hate leaving him here all alone, though. What if the stalker comes back and hurts him? I don’t even know how the creep got into the place. No signs of a break-in. The police figured I left a door or lower window open, but I swear I didn’t. And he couldn’t have gotten in through one of the second-story windows without a ladder. No sign of that, either.”
“Maybe he had a key.”
“That’s impossible. I don’t give out keys.” At least not to nonexistent boyfriends.
“No one has a spare?”
“No one but Helen. And Nick would have access to it, since he knows where they’re kept.”
Nate digested that. “Well, we should change the locks, anyway.”
We?
“And if you’ll let me,” he added, “I’ll get my security guy in here to install a system.”
“I don’t know—”
“Well, you should! You’ve been attacked here in more ways than one. You need to let me do this for you, Annie, unless you plan on moving in with Helen permanently.”
“No, this is my home!”
“So let me make it safe.”
In the end she caved in, because she knew he was right.
A quarter of an hour later, he walked her to Helen’s door, brushed her lips with his and left her with the promise that he would see her later. And that he would see to her cat, who’d refused to come out of hiding no matter what she’d done to lure him into the open.
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