by Leger, Lori
Annie tore through her closet looking for anything she could use as a weapon. Nothing. Not a damn thing. She finally found the biggest, deepest purse she could find and began loading it down with anything with a little weight to it. She zipped it shut then swung it a few times to test it out. Satisfied that she wouldn’t have to face him completely empty handed, she made a mental note to keep a baseball bat in her closet from now on, or better yet, a gun. She’d always said she didn’t want to live in a house with guns. Funny how a girl’s perspective changed when a murdering rapist had her trapped in her own bedroom. She closed her eyes, uttering a prayer for help as J.B. continued his terrifying ode to himself.
“I had too many nights of thinking about all the things I was gonna do to you to walk away without a sample, so here I am.”
“I guess I should feel honored.” Annie kept scanning her room for something to use as a weapon.
“You’ll feel a lot of things in a few minutes,” he told her, “but honored ain’t exactly gonna be one of them.”
Annie cringed at his words, and then spied the heavy iron curtain rod over her window. It had solid, blunt tipped fleur de lis finials on both ends, and should make an effective weapon. She set the purse down, then climbed on her bed to get to the rod. After struggling for a few seconds, she finally reached it, freed it from the filmy curtains. She swung it several times to adjust to the weight of it then prepared herself mentally for what she had to do. Within seconds, J.B. was pounding at the door, then shoving at the chair she’d jammed under the knob.
Drake wove his truck dangerously in and out of traffic, his cell phone in hand. He’d been trying to call Annie’s house phone and kept getting a busy signal. He knew in his gut what that meant. Montgomery was already there. The first thing he’d do would be to cut the phone lines—disable the alarm.
Oh God. He called her cell phone and groaned when her sweet voice asked him to leave a message. He pictured the hook just inside the door where she hung her purse, sure she’d left her phone inside. He swore and hit a speed dial button. “Nash! That son of a bitch is there, I know he is.”
“I know, Drake. The phone is inoperable. I’ve already called the Kenton Police Department as well as the Sheriff’s Office. They know what they’re dealing with. Just stay calm.”
“I can’t be calm.” When he spoke again, his voice held a sharp edge of steely determination. “I’ll kill him. I swear it on my life. If he touches one hair on her head, I’ll kill the bastard.”
“You’ll have to stand in line, buddy. Where are you?”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Nash cursed loudly. “You just left from here five damn minutes ago. You’ll get yourself killed before you get there.”
“Not a chance, but I do need to let you go. Get there as soon as you can.” He snapped the phone shut and tried to call Annie’s cell again. He’d nearly disconnected when he heard someone answer.
“Hey man, glad you could join the party,” J.B. drawled.
“You’re a dead man, do you hear me?” He cringed as J.B.’s maniacal laugh reached him.
“Not before I taste me a little bit of that sweet lil redhead in that room she’s got herself holed up in. Not fer long, though. I got a gun here, sweet cheeks—you get outta the way, you hear? I don’t want you shot before I get to play with you.”
Drake jumped as the sound of gunshots rang out over the speaker. “Dammit, Montogomery! I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch!”
“Move sweet cheeks, I’m firing the gun again. I ain’t got all night to play, and I’m sure the cops ‘er on the way by now.”
Drake swore loudly as he heard another pop of gunfire.
“Coming through.”
Drake heard a crash then J.B. howled with glee.
“Whoo-ee! What is that, honey? You gonna knock my ass out with that little old curtain rod? Your gal has quite a swing there, lover boy. She’s just a mite slow.”
“Drake?”
Annie’s screech filled him with dread. “I’m nearly there, Annie. Hold on Baby!”
“Drake! He’s in my bedroom!”
The last thing he heard was her terrified scream. Drake cursed and sped past a parish sheriff’s vehicle. The lights came on and began to follow him. He never slowed down.
“I gotta put this phone down now, cuz I need both my hands to do what I want to do,” J.B. said, “but I’ll put it on speaker so you can listen in. Too bad you can’t watch as well as hear what’s happenin’.”
Annie’s skin crawled as she watched him place the phone on the dresser so Drake could be an active participant. She tightened her grip on the curtain rod and braced herself as J.B. turned to rush her. She managed to side swipe his head with the curtain rod on her second swing.
He grabbed the side of his head and snarled. “You bitch!” He lunged for her as she swung it again and caught the rod an inch from his face. She let go of it and kicked him in the knee. He grunted and let go of the rod to lunge at her again. This time he caught her by the neck and squeezed with both hands.
Annie brought her knee up with a sharp jab in his groin area. His breath released with a whoosh as he fell to his knees. She made a run for the door but he caught her foot and tripped her. Annie screeched as she fell with a thud, but a year’s worth of self-defense training kicked in, along with a tremendous surge of terror driven adrenaline. She turned and kicked him in the nose with the heel of her foot.
J.B. howled in pain as he grabbed his nose and scrambled to his feet. He pulled his gun out and crowed, “Your bitch is about to die, lover boy!” He aimed the gun at her, totally unprepared for the giant yellow fur-ball of growling, hissing, scratching, biting attack-cat landing on his face.
In one fraction of a second, Annie went from a quick prayer before dying to watching, in a sort of fascinated horror, as Martin literally flew onto the man’s face. Her cat’s front paws were declawed, but it didn’t stop him from digging his rear claws into J.B.’s shoulders in order to get a better grip on his skull with his teeth. The sound of little girl screams coming from a grown man filled the room as his gun carrying arm swung wildly through the air. She hit the bedroom doorway, praying she wouldn’t be hit by any stray bullets.
The last thing Drake heard were screams mixed with gunshots before a loud crash made the line go dead. He dropped his cell phone and entered Kenton’s city limits at a hundred plus miles per hour, with the sheriff’s car in hot pursuit. He slammed on his brakes and made the first turn on two wheels, praying he wasn’t too late. By the time he screeched to a halt in front of Annie’s house seconds later, red and blue lights were flashing all over the front lawn and driveway. He ran to the door only to be stopped by a police officer.
“Sir, this is a crime scene, you can’t go in there.”
“Annie!” He scanned the area, desperate to find her, trying to push past the officer.
“Sir, you can’t go in there.” The officer’s voice grew sterner with the second warning.
“Annie McAllister lives here. Is she all right? Was she hurt? Where’s that son of a bitch, J.B.?”
“Sir, you’ll have to calm down!”
Drake grabbed the officer by the collar, pushed him through the door and up against the wall. “You calm the hell down!” he roared. “I need to know, is Annie all right?” He heard a click by his ear and realized the officer had a pistol pointed at his head. All motion and noise ceased in the room as more than a dozen officers joined in by aiming their Glocks at him. He released the officer’s collar and raised his hands. “Please,” he pleaded, trying to control the pounding of his heart. “Just tell me. Where is Annie? Is she all right?”
His peripheral vision caught a slight movement in the crowd of light blue and khaki colored shirts. Kenton’s police chief stepped up to the front. “Stand down everyone—now!” His tone demanded compliance. “He’s with Miss McAllister. Let her through.”
Drake turned slowly to his left as the sea of uniforms parted to let
Annie pass. She was wrapped in her afghan and clinging to Martin but seemed physically unharmed. She got to the edge of the crowd and stopped.
Drake’s breath came out in a rush of relief when he saw her. “You’re okay …”
She nodded, gave him a smile. “I’m okay.”
He took a step toward her. “I heard that gunshot and you screamed, and then-then the phone went dead.” He shook his head. “I thought … oh God … I was afraid you were …”
She met him the rest of the way, stopping just in front of him. “I probably would be if Martin hadn’t jumped on him. I guess it’s kind of hard to aim with twelve plus pounds of furious feline in attack-cat mode attached to your face.”
Drake emitted something that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a sob as he reached out to take Martin from her. “So, what you’re telling me is that fat-boy here, saved your life?”
She nodded. “Yep, and Lewis did his part, too.”
“Oh, yeah? What did Lewis do?”
“He warned me when J.B. broke in.”
Drake reached out with his cat-free hand to brush the hair back from her face. “Stranger danger?” He sent her a crooked grin.
She nodded. “And ‘Annie get your gun’.” Her eyes crinkled with laughter. “And Martin ran in my bedroom like The Flash. I had just enough time to lock and barricade my door.” She shrugged, “It didn’t keep him out for good, but it bought me some time.”
He opened up the afghan, gasping at her blood covered clothes. “Jesus, I thought you said you weren’t hurt.”
She shook her head. “It’s not my blood, it’s his, and some of this is from Martin’s teeth, but not all.”
“What’d you do to him?” he asked, amazed at the amount of blood on her.
She cocked her head to the side and counted off on her fingers. “I hit him in the head with a curtain rod, kicked him in the knee—that one really seemed to hurt him, then I put my knee in his groin—that hurt him even more, and after he tripped me I kicked him in the nose with my heel. I may have fractured his arm, and I’m pretty sure I broke his nose. The last thing I saw before I hit the door running was J.B. trying to pull Martin off of his face.” She bit her bottom lip. “You missed all the fun.”
“So all that high-pitched, muffled screaming I heard …”
“That was all J.B.”
He stepped closer to her. “I see. But, tell me something. How does a ‘harmless’, declawed cat like Martin, manage to keep such a good grip on poor old J.B.’s head?”
Annie grinned as several of the officers heard the question and began to snicker amongst themselves.
“That cat had his teeth buried so deep in that guy’s skull I thought we’d have to use a crow bar to pry him off,” one officer admitted.
“Man you should have seen it,” another added. “There was blood everywhere.”
Drake shook his head, filled with a mixture of relief and amusement. Officer LeBleu walked over to meet him and extended his hand. “That cat did a hell of a number on him. He’ll need several dozen stitches. The first guys on the scene said it looked like a re-enactment of that old “Alien” movie.” He placed his hand over his face.
Drake scratched the cat affectionately behind the ears but didn’t take his gaze from Annie. “The next time we eat pizza, Martin gets to eat his fill, okay?”
“I think that could be arranged.” Her pixie grin spread across her face.
He reached out one hand to pull her head close to him. He spoke softly into her ear. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He closed his eyes, gently touching his forehead to hers. “God, I’m proud of you, Annie Girl.”
They stood, relatively isolated in the center of the room as it started to clear out, totally absorbed in each other. So much so, that neither of them paid much heed when an officer led a bloody and battered J.B. into the room, one arm in an awkward sling with his hands cuffed in front of him. A sarcastic comment from the prisoner jarred them both to attention.
“Oh, ain’t that sweet? Look at the two lovebirds,” J.B. taunted.
As a lawyer, Drake definitely knew better than to strike an unarmed prisoner. “You’re so damned lucky you didn’t hurt her, J.B. Now you get to live.”
“I shoulda snapped that pretty lil’ neck as soon as I got my hands on it a while ago,” J.B. sneered.
Drake frowned and checked Annie’s neck. “Son of a bitch,” he hissed, seeing the beginning of what would surely be ugly bruising. He turned and took a step toward J.B. while keeping dangerously silent.
J.B. cackled loudly and rattled his cuffs. “Come on over here if you want a piece of me, fancy man. I kin still whip your ass, even loaded down with a little jailhouse bling.”
“Don’t do it,” Officer LeBleu warned. “That’s the quickest way to see that S-O-B walk.”
Drake turned his head so that only the officer and Annie could hear what he said next. “Just let me have two minutes alone with him. I swear I won’t kill him.”
Officer LeBleu shook his head.
“One minute, then. Hell, I’d take thirty seconds. You can be in the room with me. Just un-cuff the bastard and look away for thirty seconds, please.”
“Maybe they do that kind of thing in Houston, but not here—”
“—Too bad, sounds entertaining as hell to me,” Nash said from the door. Drake pivoted to face the man as Annie met him for a huge, Texas style hug.
“Houston?” J.B. drawled. “I didn’t know you was from Texas. I hate Texas! The only thing comes from Texas is steers and queers, and I don’t see no horns on you, asshole.” When the officer pushed him to move forward again he leered at Annie and licked his lips disgustingly. “Too bad, sweet cheeks, I’d a been the best you ever had. Right up until the moment I squeezed the life right outta you.”
Drake vibrated with fury, his hands clenched at his sides as an angry murmur began to spread throughout the room of remaining policemen. “Shut up. You aren’t fit to speak to her, you sadistic bastard.”
“Oh, you called me a name. My feelings are so hurt.” J.B. put his head back and laughed loudly. One of the officers standing on the side shook his head and turned his back to speak to someone behind him. J.B. lunged for the officer’s holster, grabbed his gun, and had it turned on Annie before anyone knew what was happening. “You’re dead, bitch!”
Drake had just enough time to throw himself in front of Annie as Nash came around with a lightning fast kick to J.B.’s arm the instant a shot was fired. Another kick to his gut had him bent forward so that Nash’s third kick to the man’s nose ended it for good, shoving already shattered bones into spaces they didn’t belong. Everyone watched as J.B. crumpled to the floor.
Officer LeBleu leaned over to check him out and the roomful of people held its’ collective breath as he felt for a pulse. He shook his head and stood up slowly. “Well, I know the ambulance is on its way, but by the time it arrives, we’ll only need a hearse.” The man looked around at his fellow officers. “Him being from Arkansas and all, I guess he never heard that slogan, ‘Don’t Mess With Texas’.”
Annie released a sob as Drake tried to comfort her. “Shh, babe—it’s over now.”
“Oh, God. I hope so. I don’t think I can take anymore today,” she blubbered, fast approaching hysteria. She tore her gaze from the man on the floor to stare up at Drake. In that instant she finally saw what he’d claimed to see all along. She saw her future … with Drake LeBlanc. She smiled, suddenly overwhelmed by a complete and utter acceptance of being where she belonged. With him. A second later, she saw something else. Something terribly, terribly wrong.
“Drake? Are you-are you bleeding? Oh God.” She screamed as he crumpled to the floor, still holding tightly to Martin with one hand.
Annie stood over his body, tissue in hand, her heart aching with sadness over her loss. Red stood on one side of her, trying to comfort an inconsolable Tiffany, while Liam Nash stood on the other, his head bowe
d reverently as he tried to hide the fact that he was crying.
Men. She’d never understand why they were so ashamed to shed a tear in front of others. Especially Nash, who’d gotten to know him so well in the last two weeks. Did he believe she’d think less of him for being upset enough to cry?
She leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his head. “Thank you for saving my life. I’ve loved you since the second I laid eyes on you.” Annie straightened, wiping at her tears. She turned away from the gurney, knowing that whatever was left to do, only she could handle. Halfway to her car, Nash caught up with her.
“Annie Girl, do you need some help with anything, or just to talk?”
She gave him a sad smile. Annie Girl—Drake’s nickname for her. Why had she given him so much flak over it? Oh yeah, T.J. That felt like a lifetime ago. She shook her head. Two lifetimes ago. She reached out to Liam, brushed his arm softly. “No, but thanks. This is something I need to do by myself. Just one more step to earning my big girl panties, know what I mean?” She smiled through tears at the man who’d earned her everlasting friendship.
He nodded, tight lipped with grief. “I’m sorry, Annie. I’ve replayed it in my mind a hundred times over. If I’d only been quicker, all this could have been prevented. He wouldn’t have had to die.” He covered his eyes with one hand to hide his tears.
“He’d understand, Nash. He gave up his life for me, and none of this is your fault. It’s J.B. Montgomery’s fault, and thanks to you, I’ll never have to worry about him again. So stop blaming yourself, do you hear me?”
He choked back a sob and tried to cover it up with a cough. “Okay. You sure you don’t want some company?”
She smiled again but shook her head. “I can handle it, and thanks again. For everything.” Silently, she climbed into her car and started it. She paused several seconds to blow Nash a kiss and drove off, thinking how badly she dreaded the next hour or so.
Annie pushed open the door with one hand and stood there, trying to accustom her eyes to the dim light of the room. Where the hell was he?