"That's a shame."
"Atlanta newspapers covered his death, so their accounts might give us insight." His eyes narrowed as he stroked his chin more. "Maybe a list of his clients would give us clues. I couldn't get much information from the Butlerton Police. I might need to go higher up. In a town that size, there might be a connection with a big city crime organization. Seems the crooks moved to the suburbs. And big city crooks like to branch out into new territory and give the good ol' boys a run for their money. Big business buys out, or runs small businesses out of business."
Sam's attention left the dirt road as he watched his brother map out a strategy for an investigation he hadn't considered possible. "You think the 'accident' might not have been a real accident?" Sam glanced back at the road. "Jesus H. Christ! That means she might be a target for worse than rape?"
"Maybe there's nothing more than cop's imagination." He shrugged. "I'll call you as soon as I've checked into things. There's probably nothing to it. Maybe this sicko guy is a rapist who has nothing to do with her husband's death. He could be a serial rapist. She could be a random target."
Drew didn't look convinced. He had a mind like a steel trap. Sam would bet his last dollar Drew suspected way more than he was saying
"Talk to her, warn her about the possibilities."
This shaded place beside one of the farm's creeks had always been a family favorite for picnics. Before the afternoon ended, someone would give into temptation to test the waters, even this early in the season.
Sam made sure to stay close to Brit once they reached the picnic site. He just liked being close. He pitched in and helped the ladies unload and unpack the food. There had to be enough food in the hampers to feed an army.
Sean brought her a chilled can of Pepsi One. "Is this okay?" He shifted from one booted foot to the other. He glanced down at the ground, then back at Brit. "The kids at school think you're awfully brave to keep teaching and everything. Everyone wants to help." He blushed. "I just wish I'd stayed with you instead of going to Angela's that night, you know --"
"Sean, you have been a big help." She touched his arm. "Now I know why everyone has been so good, lately. I keep wondering if the Body Snatchers have taken over my students."
"More likely the Pod People." Sean laughed.
Sam's approach stopped the conversation. "Taking good care of the teacher, I see."
"He certainly is," Brit answered.
Drew flashed a Frisbee. He and Sean entertained Monster, as they sauntered along the creek away from the bustling women. Luke and Pop walked in the opposite direction to set up fishing poles.
Brit followed when Sam led the way to a row of blankets spread on the ground. "Was Angela invited or is there trouble in paradise since school ended yesterday?"
"Sean asked her but her family had a reunion to attend. The kids are too young for Sean to be included in an out-of-town thing."
"You're right. Boys can be so much in love, or lust, at that age."
"Or at any age, dear teacher." Sam took her hand. He kissed each finger slowly, gazing into her eyes. "At any age." He smiled slowly and just too damned sexily.
He sucked her pinky finger into his hot mouth.
She swore her insides melted.
"Come on, everyone," Esther called. "You, too, Sam and Brit."
Trestle tables held food and ice tea pitchers. Rachel had outdone herself with fried chicken, sliced meats, potato salad, and more. Sandwich fixings included sliced tomatoes and lettuce, as well as all kinds of condiments and breads. Baked beans and bean salads added to the bodacious spread. Chocolate pies and banana pudding vied with chocolate and coconut cakes, as favorite desserts.
Monster, the traitor, settled between Sean and Drew.
Brit took her food and sat down between Esther and Becky. She was sure there wasn't room for anyone else. Her smugness fled when Sam sandwiched himself between his sister and her. Esther scooted over to give him more room, but Brit had nowhere to scoot. Scoundrel!
The spring sun beat down, warming everything. But the sun wasn't the reason Brit felt too warm. Sam sat so close their legs touched from thigh to knee. Every time he moved, Brit felt the play of his muscles against hers. The fabric of their jeans might as well have been non-existent for all the good it did. The rat kept making it a point to brush elbows with her, looking at her to see her reactions. She hoped he couldn't see her panic. It would be best if he couldn't see the flush that warmed her face, or the pulse beating wildly in her throat, or the rising of her chest as she gulped air.
She caught very little of the conversations. Concentrating on eating instead of the man beside her took more effort than Brit would have thought possible. If I could think about anything but this pest, I could enjoy the company of these people.
Everyone did some serious eating.
"Mom, chicken's great. Looks like Jesse was hungry. Jesse, 'member the time we ate ourselves sick with plums? I thought my belly would never stop hurting. Your aunt thought we'd poisoned you and gave you castor oil." Sam rambled more than she'd ever heard him.
Eating had never been so sensuous for Brit before Sam. She found her gaze returning to him. Each time his tongue whipped out to lick food from his lips, she licked her own. She imagined that he was licking her lips and she was licking his. There was a spot of chocolate beside his mouth. She wanted to lick it off; chocolate and Sam, a tasty combination. Each time his Adam's apple moved she wanted to press her lips to his throat and work her way to his lips. Heat pressed from all sides, threatening to smother her with thoughts about the exasperating man. Conversations around her faded. Her eyes felt heavy as she blinked, trying to force her vision to clear. God, it was hot!
"Don't you agree, Brit?" Becky cut into her thoughts.
"Huh? I'll have to think about that." Brit hedged. Brit hadn't the foggiest notion what Becky was asking, but Sam was grinning at her. He looked so smug she was sure he knew what she'd been thinking, what he was likely thinking, judging by his grin.
"What do you think, Sam?" Becky glanced in his direction.
"Uh, you're probably right, Becky. I always take your side."
"You look tired, Teach," Sam drawled in that sexy, bedroom voice that made her melt. "Want me to take you home and put you to bed?"
"Yes indeed, Son. That poor girl looks all tuckered out. Take her on home, unless she wants to lie down at the house. We've plenty of rooms."
"That's okay, I'd rather go home and take a shower and relax, but I do want to help you clean up, first," Brit started to stand, but when she met Rachel's gaze she stopped.
"Never you mind, now. We'll clean up. You just rest."
The ride home was quiet, except for the snoring of the tired Monster. Finally, Brit broke the silence. "Your family is nice. Growing up with them must have been great. Have you always lived there?"
"Yeah, Dad bought the land and house from a man who was too old to tend to it. The guy's first wife had died years back and he was ready to move to a retirement community. He was looking forward to living close to people and enjoying his remaining years. He died on the golf course at the age of ninety-seven."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes," Sam grinned. "He made love to his new, thirty-year old, wife that morning and went straight to a big tournament. The old guy was almost at the end, when he keeled over onto an opponent's ball. He died smiling. They called off the game out of respect." Sam shrugged.
Brit's incredulous look made Sam grin even more. "You're making this up. You can't be serious." She shook her head at him.
"Sounded serious to me. Golfers are serious about their games. No one wanted to move the body to hit the ball under him. They couldn't have finished for a while, anyway. There were paramedics and an ambulance to haul him away. You know, no one was in the mood anymore. Rumor has it he became a daddy posthumously."
Sam wanted to make Brit laugh. She wouldn't smile when she heard what Drew had suggested. A vision of a very pregnant Brit stunned him. His p
ants became tighter again. He was too old to be a Daddy again, or was he?
Sam wanted her to keep talking. He loved the sound of her husky voice with her mixture of Georgia upbringing and education.
Sam had remained quiet as Brit told him of her family.
Her smiles made it clear how much she cared for them.
"Why didn't you stay with them when your husband died?"
"I did, but it was too easy to dig myself into a rut and let them take care of me." Brit shrugged. "My family is supportive, maybe too much so. Everyone took care of me, even my niece. She shared my pain and took me out of myself. She was the person I first told about Julie's suggestion that I apply for a teaching job here. The kid gave me good advice. In some ways, the loss of her mother made her grow wise for her twelve years. My family loves Julie and knew she could help me. And she has!"
They sat in Sam's truck, in front of Brit's house for a while. Neither appeared to want to break the mood. Together, each started to speak --
"Sam --"
"Brit, I would like nothing better than to help you with that shower, then tuck you in bed."
Sam's pulse raced when he slowly kissed every inch of Brit's face, thinking of the earlier wish to lick chocolate from her cheek. The rush of heat that swept his face should have warned him to stop, but he preferred to listen to the voice of desire, which out-talked the voice of reason. After all, how much trouble could they get into in broad daylight? He dragged his mouth from her cheek to her parted lips and moved hungrily over them. He nipped at her sweet lower lip. Her gasp allowed his tongue inside to rub against her teeth and gums.
Brit wound her arms around his neck, almost choking him as he tried to slide from under the steering wheel. Heat traveling from her thighs to her belly threatened to consume her with pent-up desire. Only his groan allowed her to break the mind-numbing kiss.
"Sam?" Brit whispered, frightened by his pained expression.
"It's okay, honey." He winced. "I strained my back stretching the wrong way. I hate to stop when we're having fun. I want to stay and make love to you for hours." Sam smiled. "We almost gave your neighbors a real show. If I hadn't strained my back …."
Brit teased, "I don't neck with old men, especially in broad daylight."
The pained expression returned to Sam's face.
"What's wrong? Does you back still hurt? Sam? Sam?"
"Not this time." He rubbed his neck. His belly hurt and he felt nauseous. Not those damned premonitions, again. Likely something he ate. Brit's attacker was in jail. How could she still be in danger?
"How about I check the place for you? I won't stay long."
"But you've installed state-of-the-art security measures and the attacker is put away in jail. And I've got my guard monster."
"Humor me, please." Sam looked determined enough to keep her in the truck if she didn't humor him.
"Fine. We'll do it your way." She leaned over the seat to shake her dog. "Wake up, Monster. We're home again."
Sam got out of the driver's side of the truck.
Brit unlocked her door and punched in her security code.
"You're not safe, bitch! You will die."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Not again! Would she ever be free of whoever wanted her dead?
"Why?" Brit clutched her temples, paced from the door to the answering machine.
Monster glued himself to her side, when he wasn't running to the back door, scratching and whining.
"Okay, Monster, we'll come with you in a few minutes. Calm down, boy," Brit patted her dog. "Stay."
"Honey, your attacker is probably a hit man. Whoever hired him isn't likely to give up just because he's out of commission. They can hire someone else." Clasping her shoulders, Sam stopped her frantic movement. "We need to check your messages. We need to call the police. Then you and I need to figure what threat you could possibly be to anyone."
"Right. Rewind the machine and let it play all the way through. No, wait; let me get a glass of iced tea." Her glass shook as she dropped ice into it. "I'd prefer a shot of something stronger but I need a clear head." She grabbed the plastic pitcher from the refrigerator. "Want anything?"
"You're right about the clear head. Tea for me, too." Sam called after her, as she marched into the kitchen.
"Fresh water for you, baby." She filled Monster's bowl with tap water. She didn't leave food or water out anymore. He paced between his bowl and the back door, whining. "I know. Drink your water. We'll check outside soon." She'd let him out after they'd gone through her messages. When she could stall no longer, she went to join Sam in her living room.
Fortified with glasses of iced tea, Brit and Sam stood beside the answering machine. When he punched the play button, she welcomed the arm he put around her.
One hang-up. Dial tone.
Brit let out a pent-up breath.
One sales call. Dial tone.
Brit took a long swallow of tea.
One credit card protection offer. Dial tone.
Sam smiled and squeezed her shoulders gently.
An angry voice she recognized too well blared across the speaker. "Think you're safe, don't you? Well, you're not. It's time." Dial tone.
Monster actually growled at the voice.
Brit held her breath so long she nearly fainted.
Hang-up call. Dial tone.
Monster licked Brit's hand. She stroked his big head.
"Check your back porch." A gruff voice. Dial tone.
"Wait," Sam warned. "We don't want to disturb any evidence. The cops should be here anytime now." Sam pulled Brit into his arms, stroked her back, comforting her. "We're in this together. Drew is checking things in Atlanta. He knows how to access all kinds of computer files. I don't think this a local problem."
"What are you saying?" Brit looked into Sam's eyes.
"Have you ever witnessed a crime or testified against anyone?"
"No, I can't possibly be a threat to anyone. I don't know anything about anyone."
"Drew suggested the killer may be connected with one of your husband's cases."
"What?" Brit turned at the sound of the doorbell. "Let's let the police in."
"Check, first," Sam reminded.
"Yes, Sam, I did," Brit opened the door. "Officer Briggs." She let her favorite policemen in. "So good to see you, again."
"Mr. Samuels, you must spend a lot of time here."
"Someone has to look out for Mrs. Roberts." Sam's anger came through in his tone.
"I'd like to hear the answering machine tapes. Mr. Samuels said there were more threats?"
Brit cringed as the messages replayed. Officer Briggs made notes, commenting occasionally.
"Better check the porch." He started for the front door. "I'll go around from the front and check things out."
"Why not just go through the back door?" Brit raised an eyebrow
"It could be a trick. The door may be booby-trapped."
Brit hadn't considered that possibility. Good thing Sam hadn't let her go out. Good thing she hadn't let Monster out.
"Holy Sh --!"
A voice crackled from the small radio unit Officer Briggs pulled from his coat pocket. "What is it?"
"Sick! We need the camera and extra help. Don't let Mrs. Roberts out."
"Stay here," Detective Briggs ordered. "Keep her inside." He started to open the door. "What is the code?"
Sam reached around and punched the numbers.
Opening the door let in a stench. Briggs let himself out.
Sam peered out the back door window. "Good God Almighty."
Garbage covered the porch. A dead cat hung above the steps. The paper tied around its neck glared white in the afternoon sun. As soon as these small-town jokers were gone, he'd call Drew. Then he'd arrange for his security to install perimeter cameras and wiring to watch her and her house. "Brit, can you get me your camera?"
She tried to see around Sam. He wouldn't allow it.
"When the cops finish their work, I
'll let you see."
Looking through the camera, he described what was happening, trying to soften the shock. Monster whined and paced. He was as anxious to see what was happening as Brit was.
Within an hour, Detective Briggs assured Brit and Sam the mess was bagged as evidence and taken to the station.
"Are you sure you don't know who would have a grudge against you? Maybe someone made a threat against your husband and is taking it out on you."
"Not that I know of." Brit raised her shoulders.
"There was a note. It was more of the same. This time Mr. Samuels was mentioned. We'll send someone to check your home, Sir, if you want to go with me.
"Thanks, but I don't want to leave Mrs. Roberts alone. Let me check my messages." After using his cell to check his voicemail at home, Sam shook his head. "None so far."
"What about Sean? Is he in danger?
"Nah, he's spending the weekend at the ranch. He has plenty of company and protection."
Officer Briggs took the tape from her answering machine and placed it in one of the unending supply of zippered plastic bags he labeled. All but one man left to check out Sam's house. A new team arrived to bug her house and phones.
They had barely replaced the old tape when the phone rang again. The new tape recorded a laughing tormenter. Caller ID showed that the caller was too shrewd to use home phones or the same pay phones. "Unavailable", she hated that one.
Sam placed gentle hands on Brit's shoulders.
"Teach, while you still have company I'm going home to pack my overnight bag. You and I are going to spend the night in a hotel. I need to get you away from all this. The boys in blue have more work to do here."
She didn't argue.
* * * *
Douglas would have laughed, if he'd been anywhere but in jail. It had cost him a small fortune to arrange the phone calls to the teacher. It was amazing how easy it was to get to phones in jail. Using a calling card purchased by another inmate's mother should screw up the caller ID thing. Arranging the trashing of her yard had been a stroke of genius. The men he'd called to get that job done owed him big favors. According to the Polaroid prints they'd shown him, they were just about even.
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