Her Dangerous Promise - Part 1: (Romantic Suspense Serial) (3 page)

Chapter Six

Mary struggled awake. In her battle, she tugged loose the lightweight sheet covering her and flung it away so it fluttered to the floor. When the dream assailant finally released her she jolted upright in bed. Her hands scrambled to her neck, covering and protecting it. The presence of the dream hands still squeezed on her skin. In her nightmare, he choked her again as he had before. Mary gulped at the air, which her dream mind thought she’d been denied. The tang of antibacterial cleansers filled her nose, replacing the dank odor of a basement.

“Are you okay?”

Mary started at the voice. A man she didn’t know slouched on the chair at the foot of her bed. His long legs stretched across to another chair. He kicked that chair back, planted his feet on the ground and rose to his full and impressive height. Everything about him screamed danger—the size of his biceps, the power in his eyes, the speed of his long strides as he approached.

Adrenaline stung her blood as panic flooded her senses. Mary recoiled, pushing her palms out toward him as if that gesture alone could force him away. “Stay back!”

“Whoa.” He raised his hands innocently. “I’m not going to hurt you, Mary. I’m one of the good guys.”

“Don’t come any closer!”

“I won’t,” he said, offering a compassionate smile that looked natural on him as he eased his hands slowly to his sides. “Miss Seeton, my name is Inspector Thom Brady. I’m with the Stony Bend Police Department’s Missing Persons and Violent Crime Division. I can show you my ID, if you like. My badge is here on my belt.” When Mary didn’t respond right away, he added, “We actually spoke for a few moments last night when you were first brought to the hospital. Do you remember?”

Mary scrutinized Thom. His rumpled, slept-in clothes creased where his muscles strained them. The sleeves, rolled up to his elbows, revealed well-defined and moderately-haired forearms and she recalled seeing him and noticing the sleeves before. With his athletic build and broad chest he could certainly overpower her if he chose, but he didn’t.

Her gaze trailed down to his trim waistline and the badge on his belt. Whatever comfort the badge provided, the gun holstered beside it counteracted. Thom was tall and while probably only a head more than she, his cop aura magnified his intimidation factor.

After drinking in his substantial presence, Mary’s gaze finally drifted to his face. She did remember that face and the sense of security she’d felt when he’d held her hand. Those eyes, preternaturally green, stole away her defenses.

“I remember you,” she breathed, barely more than a whisper.

Thom dragged his fingers through his dark hair. “I’m glad.” He smiled in a sexy, shared-secrets kind of way that liquefied Mary’s insides. “I’ve been worried about you. Everyone has.” Without seeking any further approval, Thom scooped up the sheet from the floor and covered Mary’s bare legs.

For the first time, she noticed that nothing more than a flimsy hospital gown shielded her body from Thom’s view. Even then, in her struggle it had ridden high on her thighs. She blushed at her immodesty but Thom didn’t seem to notice either her bare skin or her embarrassment. Instead, he drew the sheet up under her chin and when she reclined on the mountain of pillows, he added a blanket and tucked her in for good measure. His hands, drawing the blanket snugly around her body, sent a river of excitement along her nerves.

Disarmed by his gentleness, Mary simply said, “Thank you.”

With one arm, Thom hoisted a heavy padded chair, designed for comfort during long bedside vigils, to the head of the bed and he settled back into it. “Did you notice the flowers? They are from your principal. She’s blaming herself for what happened.”

Mary glanced at the enormous bouquet on the bedside table, astonished she could have overlooked it until now. The floral display practically exploded in leaves and blossoms with dramatic exuberance. The rich floral scent surrounded her immediately, as if it had politely waited for her notice before embracing her. The velvety petals invited her touch. Mary just stared at them, knowing that at least a polite smile was appropriate but unable to summon one.

Like a cloud of black sludge, memories overtook her. As real as the cackle of a specter, she heard him whisper, “Swear on the life of your cat. Swear on the lives of your children.” No longer the voice of a child in the body of a man, now the voice dripped with malice. Her cat she could send away if needed, to Mrs. Jorgenson across the street most likely. But the children, how could she protect them without admitting her selfish promise? Their lives were not hers to bargain with. She wanted to cast the flowers from her, along with the reminder of the place and people she cared about the most and had betrayed. The beauty and love embodied in that gift mocked her for her weakness.

“Shall I read the card for you?” Thom offered, reaching for it.

“No, please.” Mary grabbed at the card to stop him but instead her fingers slipped into his palm. Like a shock, Mary vividly recalled him enfolding her hand into a tender embrace last night. Their eyes locked for a breathless moment. All menacing thoughts fled before him, driven away by his vitality that sparked a response low in her belly.

“Mary, I need your help to catch the guy who did this to you.” Thom leaned closer, intense in an “us against him” conspiratorial posture.

Again, she felt the dream hands upon her throat, threatening to squeeze. Mary rubbed her fingers over her neck, needing to check if they had truly materialized there or if they only existed in her fears. He waited for an answer, one she could never risk giving to him. “Inspector—”

“Please, call me Thom.”

She swallowed. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. With all that was at stake, she dare not speak with him. Even being seen with him posed too much of a risk. How could she convince him to just leave her alone? “I just want to take a shower, get dressed and go home. I need to put this whole matter behind me.”

“I can understand how you feel. You’ve been through a traumatic experience. You want to just pretend nothing happened but you can’t.” He stroked a fingertip across her bandaged wrist, sending a spark along her skin. “Believe me, I’ve been around enough to know closing your eyes and denying it won’t make it go away.”

Thom’s gentleness crumbled her reserve. She’d been prepared to stand tough against an interrogation. If anything she deserved rebuke for her behavior. She hadn’t been prepared for tenderness. If only she could share her secret with one person, Mary thought, she might be able to endure the burden of it. The guilt swelled like a palpable weight in her heart until she no longer could sit upright. She slumped against the soft pillows, which by the very nature of their gentle support, felt only a tiny fraction of the understanding and caring that she perceived in Thom’s voice. The cold front of guilt and the warm front of his kindness collided into a storm of grief inside her that left her helpless to endure it. The tears swelled and brimmed on her eyelids.

“It’ll haunt you,” he warned.

How could she tell him that it already did? First one, and then another tear, trailed down her cheeks.

“You have to face this head on. You have to focus your hurt and anger into catching this man and making him pay.” Thom whipped several tissues from the box on the bedside table and mopped at the tears clumsily. “It’s okay to let it out. I’ll help you. We’ll get through this together.”

With that simple assurance, Mary’s control ruptured and she wept uncontrollably.

Chapter Seven

Mary indulged in what Thom’s mother called “a good cry”. From all his years on the force, Thom understood the therapeutic value of simply allowing the dam to break and wash away all the emotional blocks that prevented people from dealing with their tragedy and starting over. He let Mary sob freely until she regained some control, offering her tissues as she needed them.

Eleven years on the force had taught him some boilerplate victim psychology. First the flood of emotions, then the spontaneous launch in to the account of the ordeal. Tick tock, tick tock, just like clockwork. Thom smoothed the warm blond waves from Mary’s face, longing to comfort her more fully but restraining himself. Let the tears do their cathartic cleansing so the healing could begin and justice could be done. As she regained control he waited for Mary to launch into her tale but her emotional outburst calmed like the ocean after a hurricane, giving up no secrets of what caused the underlying turmoil. Oh God, Thom thought. Just because the rape kit came back negative didn’t mean she hadn’t been sexually assaulted in some way. Gently, he asked, “Would you rather speak with a female officer?”

“No.” She dabbed the last of the moisture from her cheeks and composed herself. “No. I don’t want to speak with anyone.”

Despite that initial outburst of emotion, Mary remained firmly walled up inside herself. Was it merely trauma, or was something else going on here? “Mary, I really need you to give me a statement.”

“I don’t know what I can tell you, Inspector.”

Back to the professional title, Thom noticed. Her eyes darted to the window, the flowers, the door; everywhere but to meet his gaze. Her body language symbolically closed herself off from him and his interrogation. She crossed her arms tightly over her stomach and her ankles beneath the blanket, twisting herself up as if that would lock him out. She was hiding something and she was too transparent to pull it off. Lying obviously didn’t come naturally to her. So why was she lying to him now?

“Did you know this person?”

“No.”

“Ex-boyfriend? A coworker?”

“No.”

“A family member perhaps?”

“No.”

Thom hated twenty questions. Her blunt answers rang true, so he tended to believe them so far. Eyeing her suspiciously, he phrased another question. “Are you protecting someone?”

Mary twitched visibly, as if a bee had stung her but she fought not to let it show. “No.”

A lie. Most people demonstrated a physical indicator when they lied but Mary’s obvious twitch made her so easy to read she may as well have been hooked to a polygraph. Thom cocked his head, probing her with his eyes. “Had you ever seen this person before?”

“No.”

“So he was a stranger,” Thom announced. “Why would you be protecting a stranger? Especially one who hurt you?”

Mary flung back the covers and twisted to get out of bed. Thom caught her by the elbow. “Did he threaten you?” Thom demanded.

“Let go of me, Thom.” Mary’s order sent ice through him. She glared at him with steely determination. If she fired that school teacher look at her unruly third graders, those kids didn’t stand a chance. With that in her arsenal, perhaps Miss Seeton’s willowy appearance masked more strength than he’d credited her with. At least she used his first name, even if he hadn’t liked the tone in which she said it. Why would someone with that kind of spark not fight against her assailant? Would not even try to get him incarcerated? His last question hit a mega nerve, judging by her reaction. The guy scared her, even now. He released her. “I can protect you, if you’ll let me.”

Chapter Eight

Mary hesitated. Words slammed to the back of her throat, wanting to come out but she bit them back. No matter what, she had to keep her promise. Saying nothing would be easier than trying to explain why she couldn’t accept his offer to help. Once she began to open up to Thom, Mary wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop. While she desired to unburden herself to him, for everyone’s sake she dared not risk it.

Keeping her back to him, Mary opened the closet. Neat piles of towels filled the side shelves but not her clothes. “Where are my things?”

“Forensics collected them for evidence.”

“Then what am I supposed to wear?” Mary glanced back at him.

Thom slumped back into his chair, laced his fingers together and draped them across his toned belly. Cocking his head to the side, Thom seemed to ponder the merits of her flimsy hospital gown. Wasn’t using sex appeal unconstitutional? Eyes as penetratingly green as his violated her civil rights. Anything she said, or did, under the influence of those eyes shouldn’t be held against her. The boyish grin tugging on the corners of his lusciously kissable mouth told the tale. He knew how his charm and looks affected her, the cheat. A flash of heat swirled across her skin like a sandstorm and spun into a tornado in her stomach. He asked, “What’s your hurry?”

“Listen, I’m not playing games with you. Not today. I’m going home now. I can walk if you won’t take me. I’ll wear nothing but this nightgown if you won’t give me clothes.”

“Tell you what. Go take a shower and I’ll see what I can do about getting you something to wear. I’ll get the doctor to sign your release and I’ll drive you home.”

“And no more questions?”

Thom paused, his eyes narrowing like a cat deciding how to play with a mouse. Finally, in a warm voice that sent a dribble of desire through Mary, he replied, “For now.”

Nibbling her lip, Mary accepted Thom’s response at face value. With an armful of towels, she padded barefoot to the bathroom, closed and locked the door. Alone at last. Mary stroked the bathroom door, still feeling Thom’s watchful presence just outside. Quietly, she rested her forehead against the door next to her hand. Part of her wanted to confide in him and yet she couldn’t. Not ever. With determination, she pushed back and turned toward the shower.

Her own reflection in the mirror over the sink made her jump. She looked like she’d spent a week in the woods. Dirt smudged her normally peachy face but that was insubstantial compared to the squirrel’s nest of hair. Her hair hadn’t been this messed up since that unfortunate home perm incident the night before the senior prom, which subsequently prevented her from going. “Oh, lovely. You look like something the cat hacked up.”

Mary found a disposable comb in the basket of sample sized complimentary grooming products the hospital so thoughtfully supplied. Working rhythmically through the tangles one at a time, starting at the bottom and progressing upward, helped Mary slip into a meditative mindset. “One thing at a time,” she muttered. “We’ll just deal with it one thing at a time.”

She blinked. Since when did she start thinking in terms of we? “I’m mean, I’ll deal with it one thing at a time.”

Mary removed the bandages from her wrists, not permitting herself to look at the marks beneath. Armed with her mini shower supplies, Mary indulged in a long, hot, soapy shower. As if the memory of the past night stained her skin, she scrubbed every part of herself three times for good measure. She completely used the bottles of shampoo and conditioner. Three slips of soap disintegrated in the ordeal but Mary emerged from the shower, cleansed and renewed. At least, mostly so.

She wrapped a large fluffy towel around her. After fishing a fresh comb out of the samples, she combed out her wet hair. Shower steam fogged the mirror and she left it that way while she worked. While she brushed her teeth, she contemplated her blurry reflection. The terror from the previous day had twirled down the drain with the dirt, she decided. She would emerge from this bathroom reconstructed back to good old Mary Seeton, a merry third grade teacher. Thom would see for himself how fine she was and let the whole ugly matter drop and who knows, maybe he’d turn his charm tactics toward getting a date with her instead. They could just pretend they met some other way and move on from there. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you lady?” Mary asked her hazy reflection and then she answered, “A girl can daydream. Can’t I just pretend that handsome man is just interested in me and not in picking my brains?”

Mary grabbed a washcloth. “Okay, Mary, let’s see how you did.” With sweeping strokes, Mary cleaned the fog off the mirror. As she evaluated her freshly cleaned self, Mary felt new tears stinging her eyes.

Emerging bruises darkened her neck into purple streaks. Finger marks, she thought. Like an unexpected clap of thunder, the attack boomed in her memory. Sudden and vicious, the crushing grip choked off her breath. Too stunned to fight back, she’d not even scratched at the fingers before he’d slammed her forward into a car door. That blow caught her in the chest and would have knocked the wind out of her, if not for the stranglehold. The next time her head collided with the side panel. Sparkles burned like tiny novas before her eyes and then the fast drop into darkness.

Mary gasped, gripping the sink. She’d been holding her breath throughout the memory. Her vision of the bathroom was blurred but from tears and not from the lack of oxygen.

As she stared down at her hands clutching the sink, she noticed the marks on her wrists. She’d avoided them when she’d removed the bandages but now she checked them closely. The rope or whatever had gnawed into her skin, leaving a ring of deep abrasions.

Even worse than the appearance of her wrists and neck, the aches that lingered on her flesh felt like ghosts of the original occurrence. It was as if she still wore invisible bonds. As if some part of her attacker still held her by the throat. As if these were physical reminders of her promise and of her captor’s continued control over her. She might have run away from him but she wasn’t free of him.

And she never would be.

The crushing weight of reality smashed the fragile fantasies born of her denial. Mary slouched against the wall and slid to the floor. How could she support this burden she’d accepted? How could she ever find a moment of peace or happiness ever again? Sitting on the floor, with her knees drawn up to pillow her head, Mary surrendered to the despair, letting it absorb into every cell of her being. No longer fighting it, Mary allowed herself to feel all the emotions that hammered at her, let them spin her around like a drunken twister and dump her unceremoniously in the rubble it left in its wake.

As the turmoil passed, Mary raised her head. In her entire life, she’d never experienced a true tragedy. No hurricane had leveled her neighborhood. No flood had washed away her home. No terrorist strike ever touched someone she knew. She’d survived this attack on her. Although she regretted her promise and always would, she could survive that too. As long as she kept her word, everything would be fine. She could handle this alone. She would handle it.

Once she regained her composure and washed the tears from her face, Mary cracked open the bathroom door. A neat pile of folded clothes waited on the floor just outside. A pair of running shoes topped the pile and according to the hospital gift shop tag they were the right size.

She dressed in the same blue colored scrubs she’d seen the nurses wearing. Fortunately, the loose clothing hid the fact she lacked underwear. The unusual sensation of clothing brushing so intimately against her made her feel kind of sexy in an indefinable way she didn’t want to analyze. She didn’t normally wear shoes without socks but wasn’t about to complain. When she’d pulled herself together as much as she could under the circumstances, Mary finally emerged from the bathroom.

Thom turned his attention from people watching out of the window toward her and smiled. The effect of that sexy smile cast an unexpected ray of light on her heart. “Everything fit?”

“One size fits all, isn’t it?” Mary gestured to the drawstring tying her pants snugly over the tucked in top. His gaze followed her gesture and then roamed the length of her. Mary felt herself blushing. “Thank you for the shoes. If you’ll tell me how much they cost, I’ll—”

“Don’t worry about it.” A tad huskier tone colored his voice. Their eyes met, his appreciation of her appearance evident in his expression, and he cleared his throat. “Ready to go?”

She nodded and headed for the door.

“What about your flowers?”

Mary froze, not turning back to even enjoy them one last time. “Tell the nurses they can have them.”

“Okay,” Thom mumbled, mostly to himself.

Much to her relief, Thom didn’t start grilling her on the ride home. Instead, he chitchatted pleasantly about nothing consequential. Unlike Mary, Thom grew up in Stony Bend. As he drove his SUV along the winding route through the neighborhoods, Thom pointed out various landmarks, mostly those that had played a role in his misspent youth. Apparently, the majority of his formative years involved poorly constructed bike ramps, trees with notoriously wobbly branches and ill-fated forays onto slippery rooftops. Most of his tales ended with the footnote that he still bore the scar.

Mary tried not to smile but lost that battle. “I feel sorry for your teachers. They must have had to keep a close eye on you just so you wouldn’t kill yourself.”

“I was on a first name basis with the school nurse.”

Mary laughed. “I can believe that. I bet your teachers sent a lot of notes home.”

“Naturally. My mother kept them all too. She likes to pull them out at family gatherings.”

“Now you are exaggerating. I’m sure she is very proud of you.”

Thom shrugged. “According to her, she is reserving the right to parental pride for when I settle down and give her some grandchildren.”

Grandkids, of course. With looks like his, a girlfriend or fiancé had to be lurking in the picture somewhere.

Mary nibbled at her lower lip. “And, are you working toward that goal? Got the girl picked out?”

His grin touched his eyes with a sparkle of suggestion. “Not yet but I’m accepting applications.”

Despite the detour, the trip ended much too quickly for Mary. Thom coasted to a stop in front of her house. “Here are your keys.” Thom tugged the jingling mass, overloaded with keys she needed for school, from his pants pocket.

He’d carried her keys in his pocket. Somehow, that seemed more intimate than when he’d covered her with the blanket. Usually, complete strangers didn’t tuck you into bed or tote around your keys. Although, they were not complete strangers anymore. After hearing Thom’s tales of his childhood, Mary felt she knew him a little. Enough to decide that she liked him as a person. All except the nosy cop part that he apparently could turn on and off. If he left it off, Mary could see herself entertaining some interesting possibilities when it came to the hunk with burning jade eyes sitting beside her.

As Mary closed her hand around her keys, her fingers stroked Thom’s. She jolted at the slight contact like someone kicked the back of her seat. Electric, she thought. Or did they call it magnetic? Either way, the chemistry sparking between them grew explosively with each lingering second until she tugged her keys free.

Reluctantly turning from Thom, Mary stared at the dark windows of her house. Usually, the sight of her bungalow style home filled her with warmth and satisfaction. She’d scrimped to buy it herself, without even asking her parents to loan her the down payment. She loved the happy yellow siding and gingerbread style accents. She’d stopped short of erecting a white picket fence but she hadn’t ruled out that possibility. As Mary scanned the windows—the eyes of the home the Realtor called them—a shiver prickled down her back. Irrationally, she felt certain that someone lurked inside. Watching. Waiting for her to come in alone.

“Thom, I… um…” The curtain of the living room window swished. Someone was inside. “Did you see that?”

“Give me your keys,” he ordered, drawing his sidearm. “And stay in the car.”

###

Thank you for reading Episode 1 of Her Dangerous Promise!

Get Episode 2 from Amazon here.

~A taste of~

Episode 2 of

Her Dangerous Promise

Outside the glass door, the faculty parking lot appeared still. This morning even with the activity of arriving teachers, Mary hadn’t had the courage to face the site of her attack. Only with Thom watching over her had she managed that extraordinary feat.

Now there was no one. No teachers. No parents. No Thom.

At least no one she could see. Her attacker could be waiting, lurking behind a car or crouched behind a bush.

He watched her every move, just like Thom had warned that he would. He followed her back to school. Saw the children in her class. Waited for his chance to strike. He almost certainly lurked in the parking lot, expecting her to make a run for it.

Better to lead him away from the school and the kids than to risk him punishing her by hurting one of her students. She must leave school now and never come back. Maybe then the children would be safe.

Mary dug her keys out of her pocket. With her car key poised at the ready, she ran flat out down the walkway to the parking lot. She darted between the cars, running for her own white Subaru.

Once she reached it, her hands trembled as she fought to stab the key into the lock. Was it her imagination, or did she hear footfalls in the parking lot? Her skin tingled as she expected to feel the strangling hands closing around her throat. Choking. Choking.

Mary stifled a sob of relief as her key finally slipped into the lock. She swung open the door and practically dived in. The forgotten cup of coffee from that morning tipped, sloshing on the floor. Without thinking, Mary snatched the cup and flung it outside before slamming and locking the door.

Fumbling with the keys, Mary dropped them on the floor. She snatched them up and crammed the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life. She shoved it into reverse with a terrible grinding sound and then stomped on the gas and lurched backward out of the parking space. Barely hitting the brakes long enough to shift gears, she slammed it into drive and peeled out of the lot like a scalded dog.

Giving no heed to the speed limit, Mary raced away from the school. A moment later, the squeal of tires shattered the peaceful suburban atmosphere. In the rearview mirror, she saw a monstrous dark truck lunge after her.

It was him. He was coming after her. Thom had been right. He was never going to leave her alone.

Mary hit the gas and sped away, with the dark truck closing in behind her. Its larger engine roared like a hell hound running down its prey. As she jerked around a corner, Mary glanced back at the truck. She couldn’t see the driver, just the flash of the bright headlights aimed at her. It flew around the corner without even slowing down.

“Go away!” Mary screamed. Her heart slammed in her chest as fast as the pistons in her engine.