Her Perfect Match (12 page)

Jackson walked her to her car half an hour later, still wishing for that kiss but determined to fight his need. He didn’t want her bolting again.

“Thank Ruth Ann for me for lunch,” she said, turning to him when she reached her car.

“Sure.” He was disappointed their short interlude was over. He didn’t want to wait till their Saturday sight-seeing excursion to see her again. “I mentioned dinner out the other day. Would you like to check out that little Thai place that just opened?”

“I’d like that,” she said, smiling.

Jackson felt a little light-headed as relief spread through him. He sucked in a deep breath and, as his oxygen-starved lungs filled with air, he realized he’d been holding his breath. But he didn’t think that was the reason for his light-headedness. He was sure it had more to do to with the scent that had filled his head the minute she’d walked into his office. Much more to do with those clear, green-as-emerald eyes of hers. And a whole lot more to do with hair that looked and felt like corn silk and skin that reminded him of the richest cream.

“Tomorrow night?” he asked, surprised at how husky his voice sounded.

“As long as it isn’t till seven. I have to be at work till about six.”

“Seven’s perfect.”

E
lizabeth had one hand on the car door while the other clutched the purse that hung on her shoulder. Just a few minutes ago Jack had glanced at the clock over his door and blinked in astonishment. She, too, had done a double take when she’d seen how late it was—how quickly their lunchtime together had flown by.

When he’d stood to walk her to her car, Elizabeth had been inordinately touched by the gallant gesture and the tenderness in his eyes. Looking at him with the sky behind him bright with promise and the air sweet and just a little sultry, she felt another surprising emotion. Before she could think about it or what it meant, she reached out and, using his shoulders for balance, stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“Thanks for lunch,” she said, her voice breathless all of a sudden. Then she quickly turned and climbed into her car before Jack had a chance to comment. Of
course, there was every chance he wouldn’t have said a thing since he’d looked as if she’d hit him over the head instead of pecking him on the cheek.

She wondered if he were still standing there. As she approached the beginning of the driveway she looked back to wave and gave into a little bubble of laughter. Her heart started beating in time to one of Mr. Sousa’s marches—the triumphant one playing in her head. Jack still stood in the same spot, still as a statue, with his fingertips covering his cheek.

Maybe it was her euphoria that caused her to be careless. After she’d been driving for a good five minutes, Elizabeth realized that for the first time in weeks she’d forgotten to check that she wasn’t being followed on her way to the New Life Inn.

She casually glanced in the rearview mirror and nearly screamed. A car that looked very much like Brian Hobart’s was behind her.

Telling herself she was being a hysterical fool, Elizabeth nonetheless turned at the next road just to be safe. Like the section of Indian Creek Road Laurel Glen sat on, there was nothing on Coventry Drive but a few scattered homes set far back from the road. Chances were the car behind her wouldn’t follow. Seconds after she made her turn, the silver, high-end luxury car followed her onto Coventry.

Instinct made her speed up, and she quickly realized the car matched her speed, though it still hung back, not crowding her or threatening her. Knowing she couldn’t chance going to the shelter in case she wasn’t being an utter fool, Elizabeth made another
right then a left, desperately wanting to get to Jack. He wouldn’t laugh at her. He would hold her. He would tell her she’d been smart not to take a chance.

Elizabeth soon realized she’d made two errors. The second road she’d turned on, Hunt Club Lane, led her toward Laurel Glen but on a parallel road. The turn apparently alerted whoever was behind her to the fact that she knew he was following her, since her course made no sense. She glanced back just in time to see Brian Hobart’s furious expression as he rammed her from behind. Elizabeth floored her accelerator before her mind grasped what had happened, thus minimizing some of the impact.

Shooting forward and away from immediate danger, she tried to think rationally. Though her sporty little car couldn’t take much of that kind of punishment from a much bigger car, it could outmaneuver Hobart’s on the twisting back roads. She grabbed her cell phone and she hit her redial button, knowing it was Jack’s number. He’d know what to do. She knew he would.

Just as she put the little phone on its hands-free mode, Jack answered.

“Jack,” she cried, not surprised to hear her voice quake. “Hobart’s behind me. He rammed me but I got away. What do I do? I just turned onto Stoney Hollow off of Hunt Club. He’s gaining on me on the straight section I’m on right now.”

“I’ll get the police moving in your direction. If you see anybody in a field or on a mower, attract their attention even if you have to drive through a fence.
He’s a coward. He won’t do anything with a witness there. Just don’t try for a house. Chances are you’d pick someplace where no one’s home, and those places are too secluded. I’m coming, sweetheart.”

She could tell he was running as he spoke. She heard him shout instructions to someone about calling the police and about her location. Then his engine roared to life.

“I’m in my truck, Beth. Hang in there. Are you coming toward Laurel Glen?” he asked, his voice utterly calm.

“I think that’s what tipped him off.”

“That’s okay. It gets you closer to me. I’ll be coming at you from this end of Stoney Hollow.”

Her mind on the road ahead, Elizabeth wasn’t ready when Hobart caught up and rammed her as she took a tight curve. Elizabeth screamed as the little car lost purchase on the dusty road and went into a spin. She wound up on the shoulder, the front grillwork of the silver monster just behind her door. Hobart had pinned her car against a high dirt wall at the side of the road. She floored the accelerator but her tires spun ineffectively, the back end of the car off the surface enough to make escape impossible.

Once the noise of the collision ceased, she heard Jack on the speaker frantically calling to her. “Jack. Hurry. He rammed me again and I spun out. He has my car pinned against a dirt embankment.”

“Lock your doors!”

“They are.” She sobbed then screamed when Hobart appeared at her side. He reached for her door
handle and furiously shook her car trying to force it open. All the while he shouted insults and obscenities, ordering her to open her door. Then he pivoted and ran.

“Beth!” she heard Jack shout. “He can’t get in. I have to be almost there.”

“He left. Maybe he hears you coming,” she cried, but her relief was short-lived.

A shadow fell next to her, something flashed by her eye and before she could process what it was, a tremendous crash above her head sent the roof smashing into her skull. Stunned for a moment, she heard Jack call her name and beg her to answer him. Before she could, her windshield shattered.

“Get to the other side of the car, Beth. And cover your face!”

Elizabeth obeyed Jack’s command instinctively. And would be ever thankful that she did. Just as she pulled her legs over the console and turned away from the window the driver’s side window shattered in hundreds of dangerous shards and exploded all over the interior.

Then rough hands dragged her across the glass-encrusted driver’s seat. She tried to hold onto the wheel in spite of the fact that glass was embedded in her arms, but Hobart was as strong as an enraged bull. He grasped her hair and yanked. She screamed and heard Jack bellow her name from the phone’s speaker. His fear for her was a living thing in his voice. And she knew she’d dragged Jack into her worst nightmare.

Hobart spun her to face him and shoved her against his car. He still held her hair. “Where is she?” he demanded.

“Please. Let go of me. She isn’t at the shelter anymore. So following me won’t do you any good.”

“Tell me where she is or you’ll be sorry.”

“I’m telling the truth. She’s gone,” she sobbed.

Elizabeth didn’t see it coming. One second she was terrified and the next her mind was numb but not enough that she didn’t feel her head throb or hear her ears ringing from a blow on the head.

He called her a vile name and shook her by her hair, his face a blur through her tears. “There’s no way you don’t know where she is,” he screamed in her face.

He was so close she could feel the angry heat of his body. It was too much like the last time, and she felt her mind blink for a second, but she fought the urge to let the encroaching darkness completely engulf her.

“You’d better let me go,” she told him in an unsteady voice. “I called for help on my cell phone. He’ll be here any second.”

“Like anyone’s going to get to you this fast,” he said, sneering.

He once again demanded Melissa Hobart’s address and pummeled her head with his fist.

It’s just like before. He’s going to kill me. Dear God, help me!
she prayed, desperate.

Then a roar filled her ears, and she could feel her mind dim and darken. But all at once the pitch of the
roar changed, and she was pulled momentarily from the encroaching blackness. It was the roar of a powerful engine coming around the curve ahead. And it was followed by the screech of tires and brakes.

Jack.

Jackson threw his door open before his truck came to a complete stop. He slammed the transmission into neutral and stomped on the emergency brake. He could hear the police sirens from a distance, but his only concern was Beth. Hobart looked toward him, then tossed her into the road like a discarded rag doll.

She fell limply and lay still. Unmoving. And Jackson’s thundering heart nearly stopped. He wanted to hold her in his arms and protect her. Make sure she was all right.

Screaming obscenities at him, Hobart turned to his car, and Jackson ran toward him. If Hobart backed up to make a run for it, Beth would be on the road in his path. Then the miserable coward stopped with one foot in the car and glanced toward the sound of sirens approaching.

Jackson saw the truth dawn on him. The pickup blocked the road ahead, and the cops were coming from behind. He couldn’t get out of this.

Hobart’s cold eyes cut to Beth’s still form. He charged toward her, clearly intending to use her as a hostage. Without a moment’s thought, Jackson launched himself at the other man and took him down inches short of Beth’s prone body.

Hobart might be good at beating on defenseless
women, but he had probably never done a moment’s physical work in his life. Beth’s attacker got in one lucky shot, but Jackson had him eating dirt in ten seconds flat. Considering the blue language Hobart was spouting, Jackson thought that was poetic justice.

The police cars rolled in. The sirens cut out, but the lights stayed on. The first cop to get to them took over with Hobart, which was fine with Jackson. He was too worried about Beth to care about revenge, but he wouldn’t trust himself if Beth turned out to be seriously hurt.

He looked across the few feet that separated them and said a quick prayer that she was all right, though he’d prayed ceaselessly during those tense minutes as he’d driven like a madman trying to get to her, hearing her screams and calls for help. Each sound of distress had torn at his soul, and he knew that only the grace of God had kept him together.

“Who’s who?” the first cop asked as Jackson scrambled to his feet.

“I’m Jack Alton,” Jackson said and turned toward Beth. “Take care of him, will you? I want to see to Beth.”

A second cop put his hand on Jackson’s shoulder, blocking his way. “Can I see your driver’s license?” he asked as the first cop strong-armed Hobart to his feet and another cop moved toward Beth.

Jackson understood their caution, but one thing he didn’t want was Beth coming to and finding herself being handled by a stranger. “Don’t touch her.” He
all but snarled the words and made a grab for his back pocket and his wallet.

“Let go of me,” Hobart demanded. “He attacked me, officer, and, ah…hit that poor woman with his truck. I was trying—”

“Shut up, Hobart,” Jackson growled, wanting more than ever to finish what he’d started.

“Go check your lady friend,” cop two said before Jackson had his wallet out of his pocket. “He just confirmed your identity. We knew someone in a teal pickup from Laurel Glen was trying to get to her. We just didn’t know what you look like.”

Jackson nodded and rushed to Beth. She hadn’t moved since Hobart tossed her aside, and his stomach gave a sick turn when he thought what that might mean.

She lay on her side, her hair covering her face. “Beth,” he whispered next to her ear.
Please let her be all right,
he prayed and braced himself as he swept her hair aside. Surprisingly there was no obvious damage to her face.

So why was she unconscious?

“Sweetheart, can you hear me? It’s Jack.”

Her lashes flickered, and she opened her eyes. “Jack?” she asked as if confused, then she gasped and terror flooded her pale features. She’d remembered.

“It’s okay,” he rushed to assure her.

“You okay, miss?” the cop behind her asked.

Beth yelped and grabbed onto Jackson, scrambling
away from the voice behind her. Then she moaned and grabbed her head.

“It’s okay. This is Officer—”

“Doyle,” the cop said. “I think we should call an ambulance.”

“No. I just want to go home,” Beth told him. She looked determined.

“You need to be checked at the hospital. You were really out,” Jackson explained. To the cop he said, “Suppose I take her to the ER then home if they release her? Someone could come and take our statements later.”

“Sure. One of the detectives will be in touch. If you’ll just give me—”

“No. You have to promise,” Beth said out of the blue, grabbing his shirt. “Nobody can know. You promised not to tell. Nothing happened.”

“Hobart hit you. I saw him hit you,” Jackson protested.

She narrowed her eyes, her head clearly causing her a lot of pain. “Hobart? Cole, who is Hobart?”

Jackson felt as if she’d stabbed him, but then he understood the utter confusion in her gaze. It was as if she didn’t know where she was. Or when. He looked at the cop. “Could you get us to the hospital?”

The cop jumped up. “Jerry, you’re transporting,” Jackson heard him say. “It looks like she’s got a head injury.”

Jackson scooped Beth into his arms and laid her on the back seat of the car, then climbed in to cradle her
in his arms. She didn’t seem to mind his nearness, but then again, she seemed to think he was Cole.

Beth looked at him, her green eyes large in her pale face. He could see she was in pain, and her pupils weren’t reacting to the light as they went in and out of the shade. He knew the next ten minutes would be the longest of his life.

“Why won’t you take me home?” she asked.

“Honey, I think you have a concussion. Try to relax. Okay?”

She nodded then winced. “I’m confused. Aren’t I?” Beth asked and stared at him. He could see her trying to work something out in her befuddled mind. “You have blue eyes.” Then she reached up and touched his cheekbone, a look of confused wonder on her beautiful tearstained face. “You’re Jack.” Her voice broke, and he knew she was remembering Hobart’s attack. “You came. He smashed into me. Then he smashed the roof and the windshield. The window in the door, too.” She frowned as if trying to piece together another complicated thought. “He wrecked my car. Didn’t he?” She sounded like she was going to cry.