He was close, his body dangling over the edge, and if his memory served him right, the sounds emanating from her indicated she was close, too.
Pleading whimpers.
Soft sensual moans.
Swift shallow breaths.
He’d never felt such a strong connection like this before. And that’s when he realized—
—This wasn’t just sex. He wasn’t just filling a physiological need. For the first time in his life, he was making love…
With her eyes shut, her body was spiraling into a dark tunnel. The deeper she descended, the more pleasurable it became. She wanted the free fall to end, wanted the torturous exhilaration to stop, yet somehow the thought of ecstasy discontinuing left her panicked.
“Open your eyes. I want to see you”, he breathlessly commanded.
Opening her eyes, she peered into his and at that moment, her body unleashed a shockwave of incandescent heat. Her body pulsed with powerful precision; every nerve-ending, every cell, from the top of her head to the tip of her pale pink pedicured toes.
Olivia called out his name and raked her nails over his back as her body released the tension. Her tight heat contracted around his rigid girth, gripping and releasing, causing his hard length to spasm. Staring into the eyes of the woman he loved, he emptied his essence, wishing the latex barrier no longer confined him.
Olivia rose onto her elbows and smiled, still panting from her climax. “Oh my gosh, Grant… Let’s do that again…”
With their bodies finally sated, they invaded the kitchen to satisfy their appetite. Olivia spooned vanilla frozen yogurt into two bowls and topped each with a handful of Reese’s Pieces and a large puddle of chocolate syrup.
“Looks delicious”, he said as he wrapped his strong arms around her from behind.
“Why, thank you! I guess I should confess: I have a weakness for this.”
Grant nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck. “A weakness for my hands on you?” he asked as he spread gentle kisses across her skin.
Olivia smiled as she tilted her head, giving him better access. “That, too, but I was talkin’ about the dessert.”
“Oh—that…”
Turning to face him, she rose onto her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. She playfully rubbed her nose against his several times before planting a quick kiss on his lips. “C’mon, we can eat in front of the TV.”
Their bowls lay empty in front of them as they watched Jay Leno on the Tonight Show. Grant couldn’t remember if he’d ever felt this happy, this content. Making love to Olivia was amorous, electrifying—amazing. But even more amazing was that she hadn’t pushed him away.
Instead of retracting into herself like she had the first time they’d been intimate, she’d opened up. She’d trusted him enough to release her guard, exposing her vulnerable heart to him for the first time. He was honored at the gesture—her actions making him fall harder, deeper in love with her.
When the credits rolled, he knew it was time to leave her. He didn’t want to—they’d reached a new milestone in their relationship—making substantial forward progress. He wanted so badly to believe the momentum would continue.
But what if it didn’t? He didn’t want to wake in the morning to find that the unguarded Livvy he left tonight was long gone.
“What are you thinkin’ about?” she asked, interrupting his trance.
“What?—oh, nothing.”
“It’s definitely something”, she said as she brushed her fingertips against his forehead. “You’re makin’ lines on your forehead—don’t you know that causes premature wrinkles?”
Grant laughed in spite of himself. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”
Olivia pursed her lips together and stroked her chin as though she was deep in thought. “I don’t know, Womack. Wrinkles on you would probably still be sexy.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, I think so”, she whispered before pressing her lips against his.
“Thank you for tonight”, he confessed as he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “It couldn’t have been more perfect.”
“I feel the same way”, she uttered softly.
Standing up, he reached for his navy T-shirt and put it back on. After planting one last kiss on her voluptuous pink lips, he promised to call her the following morning, and then turned toward the door.
When she was finally alone, she released a gratifying sigh. Tonight had been perfect. In fact, she couldn’t wait to close her eyes tonight and relive each tantalizing moment again in her dreams…
But first, she needed to start the dishwasher.
Reluctantly, she stood from the couch again and gathered the two bowls. She ambled toward the sink, rinsing them first before placing them in the dishwasher. She’d just started the cycle when she suddenly heard a knock at the door.
She smiled as she pivoted, her heart racing at the thought of Grant coming back to satisfy their desire again. “Forget something?” she shouted as she untwisted the lock.
But when she opened the front door, it wasn’t Grant.
In front of her stood a tall, muscular man dressed in black, his face shielded by a dark ski mask…
CHAPTER 15
Olivia’s gut twisted like a pretzel the moment she opened the door to find the masked arsonist standing before her. And then her adrenaline kicked-in. She shoved the door, but it was too late. The intruder had anticipated her move and had already placed his hands in front of him to catch it; then he lunged forward.
RUN!
If she could make it into the kitchen and grab her cell phone on the counter, she could exit through the French doors and lock herself in the darkroom…
Pivoting, she sprinted toward the bar. She made it halfway before the masked man grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her back toward him.
“Where do you think you’re going, Blondie?” He asked.
Olivia raised her arms, trying to disentangle his fingers from her hair as he hauled her to the living room like a cavewoman. She kicked her legs, attempting to get back on her feet, but he was pulling her too quickly. A piercing scream fled her mouth—but that only made him tug harder.
When he finally had her in the living room, he launched her body forward. She gasped in agony as her right side collided against the glass-top coffee table, her body landing on a blanket of shattered glass.
She tried to stand up—tried to get away. Once she was on all fours, the mysterious man picked her up as though she weighed nothing, and then tossed her onto the red leather couch.
It was hard to breathe. Her ribs had struck the table first, taking the brunt of the impact. She knew they were most likely broken, but ironically she didn’t feel the pain—there was too much adrenaline coursing through her veins. He came down on top of her, straddling her abdomen to keep her from running away.
I don’t want to die—not like this!
She knew she had to fight back.
With her arms flailing about and her legs kicking, she wriggled beneath him trying to set herself free. But he was so much stronger than her. By pure luck, her fist landed against his left temple. The thick knit material of his ski mask cushioned much of the blow, but she prayed it was enough to make him realize she was not giving up.
“You fucking bitch!”
His hands clamped down on her wrists. He raised her arms over her head, holding them in place with a firm grip. And when he was able to pin her flailing limbs with his vice-like grasp, he reared back with his gloved, free hand and slapped her across the face. The impact forced her head to the side, her cheek on fire as though she’d been stung by a hundred bees.
“Now that I have your undivided attention, tell me where your camera is.”
“Fuck you!” she yelled.
Olivia clenched her eyes shut as he reared his hand again. She expected him to slap her like he had moments earlier, but he didn’t. Instead, his closed fist struck her mouth. Warm liquid exploded from her lip
s, the distinct metallic taste of blood on her tongue.
Arms pinned above her head, she opened her eyes to find he was inches away from her face.
“Maybe some other time”, he whispered as his free hand copped a feel of one of her breasts.
Refusing to fall victim to the masked intruder any longer, she bucked and twisted her body, convulsing until she managed somehow to wriggle free. She rolled off the couch and then quickly planted her feet to run away.
This was harder than he’d thought it would be. She was tough. When he pushed, she pushed right back. No way was she going to give up, he acknowledged.
As soon as she’d made it to her feet, she’d lunged toward the kitchen. He couldn’t let her get away.
He had to get his hands on that camera and any photos she may have already developed.
And he refused to leave without them.
He reached for the silver metal vase beside him on the end table and just like he’d done in high school as the quarterback of the football team, he launched the heavy vase toward the back of her fleeing head.
She could see her phone on the bar—just a few more strides and she could call for help.
WHACK.
Misery unlike anything she’d ever felt before radiated from the back of her head, her vision obscured by floating bright lights. Her legs collapsed beneath her as though she’d been tranquilized, her body landing just shy of the slate tile in the kitchen.
Touchdown…
Slowly he ambled toward her, the nasty gash on the crown of her head bleeding profusely, signifying the end to their struggle. He knelt down beside her and listened as she groaned in unyielding agony. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he needed to cover his tracks. Because if he didn’t, it was only a matter of time before the police came knocking on his door, and even jail couldn’t save him from the wrath his bookie would unleash.
He scanned the room and immediately noticed the camera on the opposite side of the bar near the range top. Standing, he stepped over her battered body and reached for it.
“I sure am sorry ‘bout all this, Blondie”, he said as he quickly cased the rest of the house for more incriminating pictures. “Things would’ve turned out much better for you if you’d only cooperated.”
Satisfied that he’d collected what he came for, he knelt down beside her again, placing his lips inches away from her ear for emphasis. “Why don’t you make yourself useful: pose that pretty lil’ ass in front of the camera instead of sneaking around, taking pictures of me. Stay out of my way or next time, things might not turn out so well for you…”
Quietly, he stood up and walked to the front door, but before he turned the knob, he had one last bit of advice: “Consider yourself warned.”
Olivia awoke on the floor. The moment she opened her eyes, raw, unbearable pain consumed her. She wasn’t aware how long she’d been lying there, but she did know she needed to get help.
She attempted to get up, but her extremities felt like overcooked noodles. Although her vision was blurred, she scanned the room and suddenly remembered the horrific attack she’d endured. The living room looked as though a tornado had rushed past: broken glass littered the hardwood floor, books had fallen from the shelf adjacent to the TV. And she couldn’t overlook the obvious: she was lying in a puddle of her own blood.
What if her attacker was still here? How on earth would she find the strength to fight back?
A wave of nausea came over her.
She was so tired. Weak.
Her body ached and her head threatened to explode. She dragged her body several feet through the agonizing pain.
Her eyelids were heavy.
Her body went limp.
And then, darkness…
Ty whistled as he shut the mailbox, flipping through the various pieces of junk mail while he strolled to the front door. Last night had been a good night at the station. He’d been able to sleep without interruption, the arsonist clearly taking a night off from his quest to torch the town, one random building at a time.
Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his keys. Having lived here for the past eighteen years, he wasn’t used to locking his front door. Butler Island was probably one of the safest places in America—nothing ever happened here. But with Olivia back in town, she’d insisted. She’d lived in New Orleans basically since she’d graduated college and although the famous city had an overall false reputation for high crime, it certainly wasn’t a place one would forego precautionary measures.
Tucking the negligible mail under his arm, he fumbled with his keys until he came upon the correct one. Holding it between his thumb and first finger, he raised his hand to insert it into the lock, and then paused—
The door was cracked open several inches.
He had to admit the discovery was a bit odd; Olivia was adamant about locking the door—especially the nights she stayed here alone when he was on shift. But maybe she was finally beginning to realize how silly the whole thing was; breaking and entering was about as likely here as a white Christmas.
Ty nudged the door open, ready to give his baby sister a hard time about her blunder, when he stumbled into a home in complete disarray.
Books had fallen from the shelves, one of the table lamps had crashed to the ground, and a thick layer of glass scattered the floor around the coffee table.
“Olivia!” he shouted as he dropped the meaningless mail from his arm. He came around the sofa, panic coursing through his veins as he acknowledged the struggle that’d taken place.
And that’s when he saw it.
In two swift strides, Ty lunged toward the puddle of blood in front of the bar and followed the smeared trail further into the kitchen. Olivia’s battered body lay motionless on the cold slate tile.
“Holy shit, Olivia!” he cried as he collapsed by her side.
Unaware of the extent of her injuries, he checked for a pulse…
She was alive!
“Olivia, can you hear me?” His training as a paramedic taught him not to move potential victims until their head and neck could be secured. She’d clearly suffered head trauma, the blood saturating her hair evidence of that.
He heard a raw groan escape her as she awoke. “Don’t move, baby girl”, he uttered as he reached into his pocket for his cell phone. After dialing 911, exchanging the necessary information on her condition, he covered the receiver with his free hand. Olivia was suddenly conscience and obviously disoriented as she attempted to raise her head.
“It’s alright, baby girl, you’re safe now.”
“Ty?” she asked in a voice so weak, she wondered if she’d spoken aloud or merely imagined it.
“That’s right, I’m here. You’re gonna be alright. I just need you to be still for a few more minutes until we can secure your head and neck to the backboard.”
“I’m hurtin’, Ty.”
“I know. Just a few more minutes and we’ll have you lying in a comfortable bed with medication to take away the pain.”
And then the search would begin for the sick bastard that did this to her. He just better hope the police found him before Ty did…
CHAPTER 16
Shifting his weight in the chair, Ty removed his wallet from his back pocket and laid it on the tray next to Olivia’s hospital bed. He’d been listening while his little sister repeated the story of her brutal attack for the third time to the detective in the room, each time his gut twisted, his hands clenched, and his heart ached.
What kind of man attacked a helpless woman?
A monster.
A monster that sets fires and stops at nothing to silence potential witnesses to his crimes; a devilish beast that lacked compassion; a soulless coward terrified of punishment.
Ty forced himself to look at her. The blood that’d stained her blond hair was long gone, but the cuts and bruises on her face remained.
Battle wounds.
He knew the physical damage would heal with time—it was the e
motional trauma that worried him most.
“Excuse me, detective”, the doctor announced as he stood by the door. “Miss Everitt needs to rest. Can we continue this another time?”
The detective closed his notepad and stuck his pen back into his shirt pocket. “No problem; I think we have enough information for now.” He stood and then handed Olivia his card. “Thank you for your time, Olivia. If you can think of anything else, I’d like for you to give me a call. And I mean anything—no matter how insignificant it may seem to you—it may help the case.”
Olivia smiled and nodded. “Yes sir.”
He turned to leave and then stopped at the door. “Oh, and by the way, you shouldn’t be alone. This guy is ruthless and unpredictable. Let’s not give him another opportunity to finish what he started…”
Once the detective was gone, Ty searched Olivia’s battered face. “You okay?” he finally asked.
“I’m fine, Ty.”
“Okay, well, I’m gonna step out for a minute and talk to the doctor. I’ll be right back”, he said as he rose from his chair. Pointing his finger at her, he stood over her. “Now, don’t you go anywhere, you hear?” Olivia smiled. He knew she’d appreciate his humor. When she saluted him, he journeyed to the door and slipped out in time to catch up with her doctor.
“Excuse me, Dr. Conrad, do you have a minute?”
“Of course, Ty, what can I do for you?”
Ty scratched his head. “Well, I was hoping you could explain the extent of Olivia’s injuries.”
Dr. Conrad hugged the chart he held close to his body and rocked back on his heels. “She sustained a mild concussion from the blow to her head and a small laceration from the impact. We were able to close that up nicely with a few staples. X-rays indicated no fractures on the skull, however we did discover a lateral rib fracture. Unfortunately there isn’t anything we can do for that. It’ll take approximately six to eight weeks for it to heal and I’ll prescribe pain medication to keep her comfortable. Aside from that, she has a lot of small cuts and bruises—with time they’ll heal as well.”
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