The Lawman's Nanny Op (11 page)

Minutes later as she stood beneath the spray of hot water, she thought of the work they’d accomplished that day. The yellow paint had easily covered the drab beige that had been on the walls and when finished would give the area a cheerful atmosphere that the children would enjoy.

She’d called Melody that morning to check on how the children were doing at her house. Melody assured her everything was fine but the kids missed Ms. Portia.

While she couldn’t put her life on hold forever, she explained to Melody that she just didn’t want to take a chance being around the kids until this matter was resolved. She would die if one of the children got hurt or worse because some nut was after her.

When would she know if it was safe to have the children back where they belonged? When would she be safe to resume her normal day-to-day activities?

Maybe she and Caleb had overreacted to everything that had happened. Sure, it was obvious that somebody was mad at her, somebody didn’t like her, but maybe that bump on her car had been the last gasp of somebody’s ire.

Finished with her shower, she pulled on her nightgown and got into bed with only the lamp on her nightstand aglow. There was no other sound in the house so she knew Layla was also in bed.

Warmth filled her heart as she thought of her friend. When she’d called Layla and asked her to stay with her for a couple of days, Layla hadn’t hesitated. Within an hour she’d arrived with a suitcase and a smile, ready to support Portia in whatever she needed.

Portia wished Layla would find a man who would love her to distraction, a man who could manage her volatile nature, who would see beyond her flaws and find the gold inside.

With a deep sigh Portia reached out and turned off her lamp. The room was plunged into darkness with just the faint cast of the moon spilling in through the window.

She thought that it would take her forever to fall asleep, but almost immediately she not only slept, but dreamed. And in her dream it was prom night and she was in the motel room with Caleb.

Her stomach was knotted with a delicious tension as she saw the rose petals on the bed, saw the desire that flamed hot and wild in Caleb’s eyes. This was it—in the next few minutes she would give her virginity to the man she loved.

Although she was nervous, she wasn’t afraid. She knew Caleb would be gentle, that he would take good care of the gift she was about to give to him. She knew this was the right thing to do, what she wanted to do more than anything else.

As he gathered her into his arms, her heart tap-danced a quick rhythm of desire. And when his mouth claimed hers, hot and greedy, she returned the kiss with fervor.

The kiss chased away any lingering doubt that might have entered her mind. He had her heart and now it was finally time to give him the whole of her body.

They fell to the bed where the scent of roses filled her head and his mouth found the spot behind her ear that always made her gasp with pleasure.

“I love you, Portia. I’ll always love you,” he whispered into her ear.

His words made her heart sing. “I love you, too. Forever and always,” she replied.

“I promise you that there will never be another girl for me. I’ll love you until the day I die.” His voice trembled with emotion.

His arms wrapped around her and his fingers found the top of the zipper that ran down the length of the back of the royal-blue prom dress. The sound of the zipper hissing downward shot shivers of anticipation down her spine. However, as the sound continued on…and on…a niggle of anxiety weighed in her chest.

It shouldn’t be taking so long to unzip the dress and yet that faint hissing sound continued. When it finally stopped she snapped awake and her heart thundered in her chest in a fight-or-flight response she didn’t understand.

She lay for a long moment, eyes closed and every muscle in her body inexplicably tensed. What about the dream had created such an intense sense of unease? A sense of danger?

She cracked open her eyes and in an instant her mind took in two things. The first was the screen at the window that had been cut and hung askew. That was the sound she’d heard. The second thing she saw was the dark shadow that rushed at her.

Before she had a chance to scream the figure was on top of her with strong hands wrapped around her throat. Portia could tell that the hands were covered by latex gloves, the cool plastic chilling her to the bone.

She struggled, but found herself trapped by the sheet covering her. Frantic, she tried to escape the cotton cocoon but couldn’t get loose.

The hands around Portia’s neck squeezed tighter and fingers tore into her skin as panic screamed inside her. She thrashed her arms and legs in an effort to get free, to be able to fight back.

She couldn’t tell anything about her attacker other than the fact that the face was covered with a ski mask and there was almost inhuman strength in the hands at her throat. She saw the glitter of eyes, but couldn’t discern the color in the darkness of the room.

The attacker didn’t say a word but emitted raspy, rapid breathing as those hands continued to strangle Portia. She wished for a voice, something she could hear that would identify the person.

Tears blinded her as she realized if she didn’t do something she was going to die right here in her bedroom with Layla only a room and a scream away.

She couldn’t breathe and a new darkness was closing in all around her as the fingers pressed tighter and tighter into her throat. Tiny stars exploded in her head as her brain begged for oxygen.

Finally she managed to get an arm free from the sheet and she swung it hard at the side of the head of the attacker. The hands around Portia’s throat slipped slightly and she drew in a deep breath as she struck once again with her fist.

She tried to summon a scream, but nothing came out. Again and again she slammed her fist against the attacker’s face and shoulders and then she managed to get a leg out from beneath the sheet and began to kick, as well.

The intruder drove a fist into Portia’s jaw, snapping her head back against the pillow and finally, a scream ripped from her throat.

“Portia!” Layla’s voice sounded from the distance. “Portia, are you all right? I’m coming in there and I’ve got my gun.”

In the flash of an eyeblink the attacker was up and off the bed and back through the torn window screen to the outside.

Portia gulped in deep breaths of air and sat up at the same time her bedroom door flew open and the overhead light went on.

If she hadn’t been so terrified, she might have laughed at the sight of Layla in a hot-pink camisole and matching bikini bottoms and wielding not a gun, but a hair flatiron in her hands.

She was crouched as if ready to spring and looked like a high-fashion ninja warrior. But instead of laughing, Portia grabbed her burning throat and hoarsely cried out to her friend.

Layla threw down the hair iron and ran to the window and closed and locked it, then rushed to Portia’s side. “Are you okay? Oh, God, Portia. Who was here? Did you get a look at who it was?”

Portia shook her head as she rubbed her aching neck and then moved her hand to touch her jaw. Cold. She was so cold.

It had only been a couple of hours ago that she’d wondered if she and Caleb had been overreacting to the events of the last couple of days.

Caleb.

She had to call him. She needed to tell him what had happened. A sob wrenched up her aching throat as Layla helped her out of the bed, but she swallowed it as she desperately tried to stay in control.

She needed to get out of this room, away from the window. She was afraid the person might come back to finish the job, afraid that this nightmare would never be over.

Layla seemed to sense her need and led her to the bedroom door. She didn’t say anything but held tight as if aware of how close she’d come to losing her friend.

If Portia hadn’t managed to release that scream, there was no doubt in her mind that Layla would have found her dead in her bed in the morning. She leaned weakly against Layla, her body trembling violently as she played and replayed the last few minutes in her mind.

Those hands had been so strong and so intent on squeezing the life from her and they’d come so close to success.

When they were in the living room Portia grabbed the phone and quickly dialed Caleb’s cell phone number. Layla sat next to her on the sofa, her face pale with shock and worry.

Portia held it together until she heard the sound of his deep, sleepy voice.

“Caleb,” she said. “I need you.” The control she’d tried so hard to maintain snapped and she began to weep.

Chapter 8

C
aleb had never driven so fast down the streets of Black Rock. Thankfully at two-thirty in the morning there were no other cars on the road to get in his way.

The phone call from Portia had scared the hell out of him. All he’d managed to get out of her was that she needed him before Layla had gotten on the phone and told him somebody had come through the bedroom window and had tried to strangle Portia.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly as he made a right turn down the street that would take him to Portia’s place.

Dammit, whoever had broken in her house had balls of steel. They had to have seen Layla’s car in the driveway and that still hadn’t deterred them from trying to get to Portia.

He’d called Tom and Benjamin and asked them to meet him at Portia’s. It was a crime scene and he couldn’t take care of the situation on his own.

When he pulled up to Portia’s every light in the house shone and he jumped out of his car and hurried to the door. “Portia, it’s me,” he said as he banged on the door. Layla let him inside and he strode into the living room. Portia was up and off the sofa and into his arms in an instant.

She trembled violently and cried into the front of his shirt. He tightened his embrace and looked at Layla, who sat on the sofa. She wore a short pink robe and a look of horror. Portia wore her robe, too, the silk material cool against him.

“He came in through the bedroom window,” Layla said. “He cut the screen and got the window open and came inside and he tried to strangle her.” Layla’s voice rose an octave. “He tried to kill her, Caleb. If I hadn’t been here I don’t know what would have happened.”

“You’re sure it was a man?” he asked as Portia’s sobs began to subside.

She finally moved from his embrace and looked up at him, her eyes filled with turbulent emotions. He saw the redness of her jaw and throat and wanted to hit somebody, wanted to smash the perpetrator in the face.

“I don’t know. All I can tell you is that whoever it was, was strong.” She raised a hand and touched her neck. “He wore a ski mask and it was so dark I couldn’t tell anything about him.” She moved to sit on the sofa and at that moment Tom and Benjamin arrived.

For the next hour the men processed the window and the bedroom, questioned Portia and Layla over and over again and tried to find something that might lead them to the identity of the intruder.

An ambulance arrived and the paramedics checked out Portia, looking at her throat and jaw and making the assessment that she didn’t need emergency care, and at Portia’s insistence had finally left.

Unfortunately, everything had happened so fast, she hadn’t gotten a really good impression of the person who’d attacked her. She wasn’t sure about height or weight and couldn’t tell them hair or eye color.

Throughout this time all Caleb could think about was how close she’d come to being killed. His heart beat an unnatural rhythm throughout the questioning, a combination of fear for her and suppressed rage.

If he looked at her red jaw and bruised throat for too long he feared losing himself in that rage. He knew if that happened he wouldn’t be able to do his job properly.

It was after four when Tom and Benjamin were finished. They’d collected her bedding to be checked for any trace evidence. The window had yielded no fingerprints, but they hadn’t expected to find any since Portia was certain the person had worn gloves.

“You’re coming home with me,” he said to Portia as Tom and Benjamin went out the front door.

She hesitated and it was Layla who took her by the hands. “Go, Portia. Go home with Caleb and let him keep you safe for the rest of the night. I love you dearly, but I can’t keep you safe like he will.”

“I’ll just get some things together.” She got off the sofa but hesitated.

“I’ll go with you,” Caleb said, easily guessing that she didn’t want to go into the bedroom alone. She gave him a grateful smile. “Layla, just hang tight and we’ll follow you home,” he said as he headed down the hallway with Portia.

He stood in the doorway as she pulled a small suitcase from her closet and began to gather some clothes. They didn’t speak. He had a feeling that at least for the moment she was all talked out.

Again a wealth of anger filled him as he glanced at the window and the bare mattress. “When I find him, I’ll kill him.” The words fell from his mouth before he realized he was speaking out loud.

“No, you won’t,” she replied. “You’ll arrest him and do it the right way because that’s the kind of honorable man you are.” She went into the adjoining bathroom and he stared after her, surprised and touched by her assessment of him.

She returned a moment later carrying a makeup bag, hairbrush and a bottle of shampoo. She added those to her clothes and then shut the suitcase. “I’m ready. Let’s get out of here.”

When they returned to the living room Layla had changed into street clothes, had her bags ready to go, and they all left the house. As Caleb and Portia got into his car and Layla got into hers, Caleb looked around the neighborhood, hoping that nobody was watching them, yet wishing he’d see the perp hiding in the shadows so he could chase him down and smash his face in as payback for the bruised jaw and neck on Portia.

“I underestimated the person who is after you,” he said once they were on the road behind Layla’s car. “I assumed having somebody with you, anybody with you, would keep you safe.” He slammed a hand against the dashboard. “Dammit, I can’t believe he tried to get to you with Layla in the next room.”