She Can Scream (18 page)

“There’s a helmet too.”

“I think for now we can just pretend.” He zipped the bag. “Are you sure you’re up for this? You’re still hurting.”

“We’ll just go over the mechanics. We don’t have to get physical.” Brooke limped to the middle of her mat. She waggled her fingers at him, and he went to her like a puppy.

Sad. Pathetic even.

But he’d do anything to keep that helpless, panicked look off her face.

“For the purposes of this class, I stick to a few basic grabs and strikes. Most of the girls have no martial arts experience. Grab my wrist.” She held one arm out. “I want you to use enough pressure to provide some resistance, but not enough to leave a mark. The girls have practiced these moves with each other, but there’s an entirely different feel between the grip of a man than that of another girl.”

He wrapped his fingers around her slender wrist. Her pulse throbbed under his thumb, the beats rapid considering they weren’t doing anything physical.

“Perfect.” She broke his hold with a twist of her arm. “That’s the first escape we practice.”

They went over the mechanics of a few other techniques for hair grabs and chokes. Brooke’s hold breaks were simple and effective. Strikes were focused on soft targets: the eyes, nose, throat, and groin.

“Last one. Give me a bear hug.”

Luke stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her. The softness of her body nestled against him. Her hair smelled like flowers. She shifted sideways and mimicked dropping a hammer fist into his groin. Luke flinched, though she didn’t make contact. That blow could be a total mood killer.

“That’s it. I keep it pretty basic. This isn’t a martial arts class. The class is designed to get them used to practicing safe behavior and learn that they can fight back.” She pulled against his arms.

But Luke didn’t release her. Her body snuggled up against his felt right. He turned her around and did what he’d been thinking about for two days—no, his whole life. He pressed a
gentle kiss to her injured lip. She froze. Luke didn’t, couldn’t stop. He shifted his lips to take her whole mouth. She responded suddenly, as if there was a two-second delay between her brain and body. Her hands splayed against his chest, then clenched in his shirt, pulling him closer. Her mouth opened under his. She tasted of chocolate and coffee.

Instinctively, he leaned in. The full body contact set off a buzz in his blood, a need to be even closer. His mind drifted to the hungry look in her eyes when she’d seen him outside the shower earlier. He’d backed away before she could get a look at his back. How would she react to his scars?

Maybe he could just keep on kissing her all night. His tongue slid passed her lips. She responded with enthusiasm.

The muffled ring of the doorbell echoed above their heads. They froze. She released his shirt and pulled her head back. Her eyes reflected the bewilderment he felt to his bones. The connection between them went further than mouth-to-mouth. It had speared him through his damaged soul.

How did he let this happen? Luke wanted to run, but he was trapped by his promise and by the bone-deep yearning to maintain his connection with Brooke.

“I can’t.” She splayed a hand in the center of his chest. “I don’t do casual flings. I’m sorry.”

He had no response. He had no right to start a relationship he couldn’t maintain—definitely not with Brooke. She deserved more. But her eyes were darkened with desire, her lips swollen from his kiss. Selfishly, he wanted to keep going. Disappointment rumbled through him.

“The pizza’s here.” She pivoted and headed for the stairs at too brisk a pace. Running away from the kiss? He didn’t blame her. One thing was certain. No more of that mouth-to-mouth or
full-on body contact for them. He could no more taste her than an alcoholic could have just a sip of wine.

With a vow to keep his physical distance, and an adjustment of his jeans, he gathered up the equipment and hauled it upstairs.

The pizza was consumed in rapid-fire, mostly by Chris. Brooke didn’t make eye contact throughout the meal. Not a good sign. But every time he looked at her she flushed, which gave him a big boost to his masculine pride, even thought he’d sworn it would never happen again.

Brooke stashed the sole surviving slice in the refrigerator. “We have to leave in a few minutes.”

Neither Chris nor Haley argued. Both likely sensed it was pointless. Twenty minutes later, Luke’s breath locked up as he parked in the lot in Coopersfield. The woods stretched out behind the community center, dark and threatening. A vicious assault had occurred just a few hundred feet away.

He scanned the area before escorting Brooke and her kids into the building. She was favoring her leg more than she had earlier.

A group of young women gathered in the main room. They surrounded Brooke with a chorus of, “
Omigod
, Ms. Davenport. Are you
OK
?”

“I’m fine.” But Brooke sank into the chair one of the girls brought her. “This is my friend, Mr. Holloway. He’s graciously agreed to let you all practice on him tonight.”

The glances turned on him varied from the shy interest from a set of tall dark-haired twins, to
holy shit
, blatant flirting from a tiny blond. Luke was tempted to hide in the car. It wasn’t the girls’ fists that scared him.

Haley joined the class. Chris burrowed into a corner with a book.

Brooke paired up the girls and ran them through a quick review of the same techniques she’d shown Luke in her basement. Luke zipped and Velcroed his way into the thick foam pads. He took particular care with adjusting the groin protector.

The girls bunched up, high-pitched giggles projecting nerves. No one took point.

“Natalie, why don’t you go first?” Brooke suggested.

One of the twins stepped forward. Her identical sister fell in behind her, and the rest of the girls queued up.

Luke tentatively took her slim wrist in a gentle grasp.

“No!” She broke the hold just as Brooke had taught her.

Once they warmed up, the girls’ voices grew louder, their responses stronger as their confidence was bolstered. Thirty minutes later, they were yelling in his face and hitting him like they meant it. Haley must practice with her mother because she drilled him in the chest with a palm strike he felt through the padding straight to his solar plexus.

“OK, everybody. You all did great tonight. How about a round of applause for Mr. Holloway?”

They clapped, and Luke smiled as he stripped off the sweaty protective gear. A sense of belonging, of contributing, put new energy into his step. He carried the equipment to his car and loaded it into the trunk. Chris and Haley jumped into the back.

“Thanks, Luke.” Brooke stood next to his car, her attention on making sure all her girls were safely in their cars before she slid into the passenger seat. “I really appreciate you pinch-hitting for me.”

“They were great.” Luke got behind the wheel. He reached across the console and touched her hand. “I’m glad I did it. You make a difference. I didn’t realize how much until I saw the class.”

Brooke blushed. Heat flooded Luke’s face and bloomed in his chest.

He wasn’t bullshitting. She gave each of those girls a chunk of her strength, and they gave her something back. He could feel it inside of him too, a charge to batteries long dead.

But Brooke had panicked at the thought of cancelling class. Could she go on without it? The class and her obsession with crimes against women seemed to be more of a lifeline than a sideline, and her devotion cost her. There was no way she could hope to protect all these young women from harm. Assuming responsibility for their welfare was an enormous load for Brooke to carry.

She’d suffer if anything happened to any of them.

Twilight settled over the trees.

He slumped down in the driver’s seat and raised his binoculars to peer over the dashboard. At the other end of the street, Maddie’s house called to him. But a Westbury Police Department cruiser was parked at the curb, and three other vehicles occupied the driveway. He recognized both her parents’ cars. The third must belong to another visitor.

How long would they stay?

He shifted his view to examine the house. Maddie’s room was at the back on what was technically the second floor. But in a bi-level home, the first floor was partially underground. Maddie’s bedroom window was only ten feet above the backyard. He knew from earlier reconnaissance that a large deck spanned the rear of the house. If he stood on the wooden railing, he’d be able to see her. Another possibility was to circle around the back of the property and use his field glasses to get a glimpse inside.

Was he that bold, and would darkness and some trees be enough cover?

And could he snatch her from her home?

Maddie was so close. He could practically feel her squirming body bucking under his again. He glanced at the ketamine on the seat beside him. Imagine how terrified she’d be if she woke up in his trunk? Or on his worktable?

His attention turned back to the house. He’d need to watch closely. To plan her abduction with greater detail than he’d ever constructed before.

Was he up to the challenge?

A creak sounded outside. Maddie startled. She lifted her aching head from the pillow and stared at the window, eyes open wide enough to burn. A branch scraped against the glass.

Just the wind.

She eased her head back down and closed her eyes. Too quiet. Her hand sought the TV remote. She flipped through stations. News.
No.
Melodrama.
Double no.
God knew she’d had enough drama. She needed something distracting and relatively mindless. Ah, a rerun of
Project Runway
. Perfect.

Someone knocked softly on the door.

“Come in,” Maddie said.

The door opened and her mom came in, a glass of water in one hand, a small white bottle in the other,

“Everything all right, honey?” Mom sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped, and the pain in Maddie’s head amplified.

“Yeah.” Maddie struggled to a sitting position.

“How’s your head?”

“Hurts.”

“You can take more ibuprofen now. Maybe that will help.”

Oh, yeah. It had definitely worn off. Maddie took a few pills and swallowed them with water. Mom fluffed up the pillows so she could sit up.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No.” Maddie lay back. “Soon as these kick in, I’ll be fine.”

“Eat the crackers. It’s not good to take medicine on an empty stomach.” Her mom glanced at the window. The view of the wooded backyard had turned black and reflected their images. With a puzzled frown, Mom crossed the room, checked the window locks—again—and yanked the curtains closed with a determined snap.

Maddie’s phone buzzed next to her head. She looked at the screen. Tyler. He’d been messaging her nonstop since Monday night. The smile hurt her bruised face, but she couldn’t hold it back. She put a finger to a scab on her lip. Mom had offered to cover the mirrors, but Maddie was all right with seeing the damage to her face.

This was the first time in her life that she simply appreciated being alive.

Besides, it looked bad now, all swollen and angry red, but the doctors assured her the bruises should heal completely. They’d called in a plastic surgeon to stitch the cut on her cheek to minimize the chances of scarring. It was unlikely to leave more than a small mark.

Physically, Maddie would be all right.

But how would she heal on the inside? Two days after her attack, she knew the terror wasn’t going to fade like her bruises.

He
was still out there.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come downstairs with me and your dad? We could rent a movie.” Mom’s smile was too bright, her voice too sunny, to be real. She was as terrified as Maddie.

“I was down there all day, Mom. I really need to be alone for a little while.”

“Of course. I understand. Call me if you need anything.” Her mom backed out of the room, hesitant to leave Maddie’s side.

Maddie picked up her phone and texted Tyler back. He wanted to visit her tomorrow. A tiny fragment of hope bubbled up in her belly. They’d had their disagreements, but his concern for her was the single bright spot in her day.

Maddie blinked at the TV. Contestants discussed colors and fabrics. Not paying attention, she let the conversation flow around her.

The branch scraped on her window again. She jumped.

Chill
.

She was in her own room. The house was locked up tightly. In the morning, a man was coming to give her parents an estimate on a security system, and Dad’s freshly cleaned and oiled hunting rifle was at his side.

She was safe here. Maddie picked up the remote and turned up the volume. But when would she stop feeling as if someone was outside, watching?

Brooke settled at her desk. Teaching her self-defense class, and the glass of merlot at her elbow, had done wonders for her earlier panic. She opened her briefcase and took out a pile of tests and her answer key. Lifting her red pen, she started on the first paper. Through the ceiling, the muted sound of running water drowned out her thoughts.