Rescued by that New Guy in Town

by J. L. Salter

  After I'd replaced the bandages, he left his tight tee on the back of a dining chair and gingerly pulled on the long-sleeved shirt. Ryan began with the middle buttons and worked his way down, but left the top three undone. My fingertips tingled with the notion they should explore that expanse of hair visible on his upper chest. But I restrained myself.

  My inner Kristen demanded that I return to a dangling conversational thread about him wanting more than school teens dating. So I repeated my question. "How much more?"

  We were still standing in the kitchen when Ryan pulled me into his left side and leaned over to kiss my lips softly. "I want us to be together, in all the ways that lovers…"

  Lovers? I felt electricity up and down my spine. His combination of honesty and directness tipped me off balance. I inhaled again deeply and held it — couldn't find any words.

  "Unless it's too soon for you."

  Too soon? I've waited most of my grown life for this man. How could Ryan imagine it might be too soon? He'd freed me from a cage, rescued me from attackers, and liberated my heart to start beating again. And it was beating — so fast and loud I was sure he could hear it. My dusty passion had been stored on that top shelf for way too long; Ryan was exactly tall enough to reach up and certainly strong enough to grasp it.

  He awaited my response.

  There have been rare times in my life that words completely failed me; at such times it was usually for the best. During my brief silence I realized our faces had drifted closer together, as though linked with powerful magnetic beams. His neck became nearly horizontal. I made no effort to resist his invisible upward pull and my eyes must have closed unconsciously. I'm sure I was up on the balls of my feet even though I couldn't recall any deliberate movement.

  Just as I thought our lips would surely touch, Ryan spoke again. "Unless you're not ready…" Then his lightly calloused hands gently bracketed my flushed cheeks.

  My eyes opened slowly, as though I were lazily awakening after a long sweet dream, and I lowered my heels to the kitchen tile. What was the word for ready? How could syllables express how much I wanted this? I realized I'd forgotten the correct body language for "yes". Finally, somehow, my brain retrieved a translatable image; I reached for his hands, gently pulled them from my face, and interlocked his fingers with my own. Then both sets of hands slid down beside my hips.

  I couldn't swear it was official sign language, but I had managed to convey the word I'd searched for: together.

  His eyes grew larger and his face opened into that buccaneer smile which always melted me. Our hands still together, most digits remained interwoven. Then Ryan smoothly extracted his fingers and I felt strong arms completely surround me. I wasn't sure if he was lifting me or if I merely levitated to meet his lips.

  I'd never find the precise words to describe that passionate kiss but I knew I'd never forget its warmth, its intensity. Suddenly I had so little strength that my body might have melted if not for his powerful embrace.

  Nobody was there to time our kiss, but my breath was literally taken away as though I were languidly drowning in some exotic tropical pond. Had I expired at that moment, in that fashion, from lack of oxygen… I believed the potency of his kiss would surely have been worth it.

  I had only time for one quick deep breath before my pirate's lips locked back onto mine.

  Oh, Ryan, Ryan.

  Acknowledgements

  This is my second novel published by Astraea Press and for that opportunity, I'm greatly indebted to CEO Stephanie Taylor. I love being associated with her and the staff at this imprint and hope we can work together on many other novels in the future.

  Special appreciation to AP Senior Editor Kay Springsteen, for all her work on this manuscript, as well as her patience with an old dog learning new tricks.

  The very talented Elaina Lee created what I consider the perfect cover for my story. I'm additionally grateful to Traci Pollit for her extensive (and intensive) proofing effort.

  I'm deeply indebted to my beta reader (and brother) Charles A. Salter for promptly reading an early draft and for his perceptive, detailed and valuable assistance, including: helping me fix some key organization problems, providing additional feedback on a couple of chapter revisions, and also giving feedback on my synopsis and blurb.

  Special thanks to my wife, Denise Williams Salter, for her encouragement, support and occasional suggestions ... and for her assistance in proofing the galleys.

  Also, my appreciation to three others who agreed to read earlier versions of this manuscript: Doris R. Salter, Dean Spradlin, and Julie Anderson.

  About the Author

  I’ve been a writer since my first poems and stories during elementary school days.

  * first published novel, “The Overnighter’s Secrets” was released in May 2012 by Astraea Press

  * co-author of two non-fiction monographs (about librarianship) with a royalty publisher, plus a chapter in another book and an article in a specialty encyclopedia

  * have published articles, book reviews, and over 120 poems

  * my writing has won nearly 40 awards, including several in national contests

  * as a newspaper photo-journalist, published about 150 bylined newspaper articles, and some 100 bylined photos

  * decorated veteran of U.S. Air Force (including a remote ‘tour’ of duty in the Arctic … at Thule AB in N.W. Greenland).

  * worked nearly 30 years in the field of librarianship.

  * married parent of two and grandparent of six.

  Romantic comedy and romantic suspense are among seven completed novel manuscripts.

  Also by J.L. Salter

  Chapter One

  October 1 (Saturday night)

  Before Beth could even scream, the filthy punk in a hooded sweatshirt crashed through the back door and covered her mouth with thin, smoky hands. She struggled to get off the couch but couldn’t squeeze loose from his grip. She tried kicking with her knees and bare feet, but the intruder stayed clear. Eyes opened impossibly wide, Beth’s most cogent thought was that Shane should be there.

  “Hold still! I didn’t come for you. But you gotta be quiet. Unnerstand?” He waited as if expecting an answer, though his hand remained over her mouth. “Nod if you unnerstand.”

  Bethany Muse nodded once, quickly. Her limbs were rigid and her insides felt like ice; she was nauseous from his stink.

  “I got a gun and I’ll use it if I have to.” He displayed the revolver jammed into his waistband. “I’m gonna take my hand off... but no noise. I also got a stun gun... and it ain’t as loud as bullets. Unnerstand?”

  Trembling, Beth barely nodded.

  “Okay...” He kept his bony fingers near her mouth, probably in case she changed her mind.

  “I don’t have anything.” She could taste his nasty smell. “What do you want?”

  “I’ll know it when I see it.” He quickly assessed the primary rooms in her small cottage. “We start in the bedroom.”

  Beth shook her head slowly sideways. “No. I’ll stay here. I won’t be any trouble.”

  “You’re coming with me.” He produced the stun device from his hoody’s pouch. “Bedroom.”

  If Shane Holder were here, this punk would be quickly reduced to about one hundred and forty pounds of bloody ground meat... but Beth’s ex-lover was two thousand miles away. She whimpered as the intruder shoved her into the bedroom. Just inside the doorway, Beth stood extremely still, hugging her torso. Fortunately, she was fully dressed: jeans and a buttoned blouse... because she and her girlfriend had planned on a late movie.

  The trespasser kept his zapper pointed toward Beth as he rifled through her desk and small file cabinet. A modified shoe on one foot explained his limp.

  “If you want drugs... I don’t have any.”

  “Shut up. I’m not supposed to talk to you.” He motioned toward the closet. “Move that way.”

  Beth took one rather reluctant half pace and then another.

  The burgl
ar peered through dark glasses into the closet. “Pull down that suitcase... and open it.”

  “There’s nothing in there but hotel soap.”

  “Do it!”

  “I’ve got a boyfriend who’s a biker... he’ll kill you when he finds out.”

  “Maybe so, but he hadn’t been around here, ‘cause I been watchin’ your place for two days.”

  Actually it had been three years since she last saw her ex... and Shane had never even heard of Verdeville, Tennessee.

  “Suitcase. Down an’ open.”

  It would have been a struggle to retrieve the carryon bag from her crowded closet even if she weren’t terrified... with a threatening bladder. When she unzipped the sides, its front fell down to the floor with a loud plapp. Beth kept her hand on the retractable handle, partly to support her wobbling legs.

  The intruder seemed nearly as anxious as Beth. He leaned forward and felt around the insides of the case with his free hand. “Empty.”

  “Like I said.” She gripped the handle tighter. “Just tell me what you want so you can take it... and leave.”

  The man reeked of smoke... but not regular cigarettes. He seemed uncertain, way out of his league. Maybe this was his first robbery of anything besides possibly drugs. “He said I’d know it when I see it.”

  “Who?” Beth felt faint. “Give me a clue what he wants.”

  “Shut up!” He looked around. “Must not be in here.” He eyed the door. “Back in the other room.”

  Beth hurried out. Though she wasn’t certain it made any difference in her situation, she was glad to be away from the bed.

  The robber scanned Beth’s living space and evidently spotted something of interest. “Lie on the floor, face down... while I finish looking.”

  No! Beth’s eyes searched for a weapon without moving her head so much that the creep would notice. The brick in her bookcase was too far away.

  The skinny man shoved Beth’s coffee table over enough to clear a spot on the floor near the bookcase. “On the floor... hands behind you!”

  “Look, just take what you want. I won’t give you any trouble...”

  He shook the stun device in her face like he expected it to rattle. “Floor. Now.”

  Being prone around this guy seemed like it might be her last moments on earth. There had to be a way out of this. Shane would know what to do.

  “Floor!” The burglar pressed something on the stunner and it made sparks... or arcs. Maybe both.

  Beth yelped. Even though it hadn’t touched her, the sight and sound nearly made her bladder start. “Okay, okay.” As she sank to her knees, she searched again for some kind of weapon. Whatever was going to happen—she was not going to let it be easy for him. On the low, single shelf of the coffee table were several fossils and unusual rocks which she’d collected over the years. She wished she had one shaped like a hammer... or a ceremonial Mayan sacrifice knife.

  “Hurry. Don’t have all night.” He looked behind himself nervously.

  Beth eyed a fossil about the size of a baseball, with a jagged surface... nearly the wicked texture of coral. She no longer remembered its name but knew it could cause a lot of damage. “Not enough room to lie down. Move the table over more.”

  “Huh? Oh...” When he leaned over to scoot the table with his free hand, Beth latched onto the fossil-rock, swung it up into his face, and sent his dark glasses flying. He yelped and staggered back, holding his upper cheek. With one eye closed from the injury, the criminal moved toward her. And now he was really ticked.

  Already on her feet, Beth still hoped for a better weapon. The fake fireplace had some ornamental implements made of pot metal, but they were way across the room. If Shane were here, he’d pound this creep into the floorboards. But this was all up to Beth.

  “I tried to make this easy.” Blood oozed between his fingers as he clasped the left side of his face. “I was told to leave you alone and just take what they wanted... but you just changed everything.” He kept his eyes on Beth mostly, but briefly inspected the facial blood on his hand.

  Beth backed slowly, trying to remember how far the couch was behind her. “Like I said before, take whatever it is.” Her calf hit the sofa. Looking quickly left and right, she tried to figure the fastest escape route.

  “Put down that... rock... thing.”

  “No way.” Trying to skirt the couch to her right, she moved sideways one step. “Get what you want and leave.”

  The intruder was apparently unable to decide whether to deal with Beth or continue his bizarre search.

  Beth took another sidestep and reached the corner of her couch. Then a slow backward move, with her eyes fixed on the confused robber.

  “Stay right there!” He waggled the stun gun and took several quick looks at the bookcase. His bony fingers knocked down dozens of books as he searched.

  Beth inched backward. At this pace, she might reach her back door by sometime Sunday morning.

  Just as the reeking man had finally found something of possible interest, a noise from the street startled him. This was a fairly quiet neighborhood, even late on Saturday nights, but high schoolers sometimes congregated across the street and down a few doors. Usually a nuisance, it was welcome at this point because it spooked the creep. Next-to-next door, the huge German Shepherd barked vigorously.

  Obviously alarmed by the outside noises, the criminal grabbed something from the bookcase, stuffed it under the front of his hoody, and dashed for the back door. As he hurried past Beth, he hissed loudly and struck her face with the butt of the stun gun. The blow knocked her over onto the couch.

  When the intruder reached the back door, Beth got to her knees on the cushions and threw the fossil as hard as she could. It hit the small of his back and he screamed like a little girl. He scrambled through the door and disappeared into the darkness of her back yard... headed in the opposite direction of the barking. He left the door wide open.

  Beth raced to the fireplace, clutched the faux poker, hurriedly closed and latched the back door, dead bolted the front door, grabbed her cell phone, and locked herself in the bathroom. While she dealt with her agitated bladder, she also called 9-1-1.

  Later, waiting for the police to arrive, Beth huddled on her couch with feet up, knees drawn in, and arms around her shins. In over four years together with Shane, she’d hardly ever feared anything besides California earthquakes. But now she was terrified. Vulnerable, confused, unprotected. Shane’s muscular, sheltering arms remained in Long Beach when she had to move here nearly three years ago. Suddenly Beth craved his sturdy comfort.

  Moments before in the bathroom, she’d seen her injury: a knot on her right cheekbone. Probably would bruise later, but presently it just ached. She held ice cubes in a washcloth against it gently. Beth had smooth and even skin, with a light tan which would fade quickly as October progressed. Working in a two-person office, she didn’t usually wear much makeup, but she’d definitely need some coverage for this shiner.

  No sirens—probably because the 9-1-1 dispatcher had verified the criminal was already gone. When the flashing lights appeared, the teenagers’ noise stopped, so perhaps they thought the cops hadc come for them. Several cars started up and hurried away.

  Beth opened the front door before the police had time to knock. Just one officer: a corporal who looked vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t place him. Slightly less than average height; about forty pounds overweight, with most of the extra around his stomach and neck. His service pistol was drawn and his flashlight blinded her.

  She shielded her eyes and invited him in. “He’s gone. Left out the back door, heading, uh, south.” She checked her wall clock. Nine-fifteen. “About ten minutes ago.”

  The corporal cleared each room anyway, evidently part of his training. He spoke something into his collar radio and then returned to the living room where Beth huddled on the couch. He holstered his weapon and pulled out a small notebook.

  Realizing he looked for a seat, Beth motioned to th
e wooden rocker off to the side. A last name of James was on his tag.

  Corporal James put his heavy flashlight on the coffee table and settled into the chair.

  Beth answered questions as best she could. She’d kept it together while waiting for police to arrive, but after someone protective was there, she began crying again. The officer visually scanned the living room while she sobbed.

  Another vehicle arrived outside. “I called for the EMT guys... that’s probably them now.” It was.

  “Hey, Tom.” The medic carried what looked like a gigantic tackle box. “Need me to wait while you finish the questions?” He was tall and handsome, like the hero in a romance novel. Muscular. Impossibly attractive.

  Beth blinked. Do guys actually look this good... in Greene County, Tennessee? But she’d lost a good piece of her heart, so the medic—Arnie, according to his tag—interested her mainly as a curiosity.

  The corporal waved him over but didn’t relinquish the rocker.

  Arnie perched on the couch and motioned for Beth to remove her washcloth. “Hmm. What hit you?”

  She shrugged slightly. “A stun gun, I guess, but it didn’t zap. Maybe the other end of it.”

  Arnie slipped on his latex gloves and touched her cheek gently.

  She winced.

  “Move your jaw...”

  “How?”

  “Like you’re chewing real tough barbecue.” Arnie demonstrated.

  It looked funny on the handsome medic and Beth started to chuckle, but her pain quelled that impulse. “Ow!” She resumed subdued chewing, however.

  “Not likely fractured. But it’ll bruise pretty good.” He eyed her homemade ice pack and reached into his tool box for a proper compress—the kind which immediately freezes when activated. He massaged the cold pack and handed it over. “Keep ice on there for about fifteen minutes every hour. Should help with the swelling. You got any pain relievers?”