Present Danger (32 page)

Wesley’s nostrils flared and his mouth curved up in a sneer. Now, if that wasn’t just typical! The little bitch had found the least acceptable accommodations possible. According to the nameplates he’d read last night, there were only three apartments rented in that building and they were inhabited by niggers and hippies, for Christ’s sake. Trust the slut to pick such a place; she never had possessed an ounce of social discernment. Every damned time they’d gone out, he’d needed to brief her on who was important and who wasn’t.

It was fortunate for her she was a beauty, for she’d sure as hell never had a brain in her head. Well, the free ride was over. By the time he was done with her she wasn’t even going to have her looks to rely on.

He’d give those lowlife tenants fifteen minutes to ascertain they weren’t just running a short errand, and then he was going in. Wesley smiled to himself.

He’d waited a long time for this.

“Come on, sweetie pie, we’re goin’ up to Auntie Aunie’s apartment.” She picked up Greta-Leigh, snagged the strap to the diaper bag, and let them out of the Jacksons’ apartment. She hadn’t thought to ask for a key to lock up, but it shouldn’t matter. The outside door was secured.

Greta-Leigh started to fuss the moment they crossed
over the threshold of Aunie’s apartment. Aunie kicked the door closed behind her and walked directly to the kitchen, where she put a bottle in the microwave to warm. She changed the baby and then collected the bottle and a clean diaper to use as a burp cloth. Testing the formula’s temperature on her inner wrist, she sat down, arranged the infant in the crook of her left arm, and popped the nipple into her mouth. Greta-Leigh began to suck on it enthusiastically. Aunie watched her drink but her thoughts kept returning to James’s last words.

Marriage license? He had been on the verge of dragging her downtown to apply for a marriage license? God above! He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he’d take a risk that would make her hair curl. Aunie removed the bottle from Greta-Leigh’s mouth, sat her up, and gently rubbed her back until she burped up an air bubble. She returned the bottle to the baby’s mouth.

And she smiled. Not the most romantic proposal, was it? More of a declaration of intent, but that was Jimmy. And it wasn’t as if she actually gave a rip how he worded it. The important thing was that he apparently wanted the same thing she wanted. He wanted to marry her. Oh God, she was in heaven!

The distant sound of breaking glass jerked her out of her daydream. Had that come from the basement? Oh, surely not; it must have been out in the street or perhaps from the neighbor’s yard.

Greta-Leigh, who had dozed off, started violently at Aunie’s own startled movement. Her eyes flew open and her little hands flew up in reflex panic. Aunie made soothing noises and the baby took some comforting pulls on the nipple in her mouth. Then her eyes drifted closed again and a moment later her
milky mouth went slack. Aunie set the bottle on the end table and stood, carrying the infant into her bedroom, where she gently laid her on the bed and propped pillows around her. She tiptoed from the room and closed the door.

She was in the kitchen heating water for a cup of tea when her front door opened. Surprised James was back so soon and suddenly shy, she smoothed her hair nervously. Licking her lips, she took a deep breath and stuck her head around the corner.

Wesley was disdainfully inspecting her apartment. He picked up the telephone on the end table by the couch, looked at it a moment, and then ripped it out of the jack.

She jerked back into the kitchen, gripping the countertop with white-knuckled fingers and breathing hard. He had been looking in a different direction and hadn’t seen her. But it would take about three minutes to search the apartment and …

Greta-Leigh! Oh, God, she had to think. She’d have to show herself before he searched the bedroom. She couldn’t let any harm come to the baby, and Wesley was just insane enough to do her serious harm if it suited his purposes.

Aunie’s mouth was devoid of all moisture and sweat pooled clammily in her armpits and between her breasts; it trickled coldly down her spine. Her heartbeat pounded deafeningly in her ears. But James’s self-defense lessons hadn’t been the nerve-wracking waste of time she’d thought them to be after all; thanks to them, she wasn’t in a complete state of panic. She picked up a sharp paring knife and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans. Sparing a longing glance at the pan of boiling water, she momentarily considered throwing it in Wesley’s face. But if she
missed or if she hit her mark but failed to disable him, he would be enraged beyond her ability to control. And if he should discover the baby …

No. Delaying tactics were her best bet. And for that, she would need every drop of guile she possessed.

She turned the heat down beneath the pan of water and stepped into the doorway dividing kitchen from dining area. Praying she could pull this off, she made her voice as calm and welcoming as possible as she said, “Why, hello, Wesley. How nice to see you.” She gestured into the kitchen. “I was just making myself a cup of tea. Would you like one?”

To her own ears, she sounded as phony as a three-dollar bill. But Wesley, who had expected fear and rage, was obviously thrown off stride by the warmth of her greeting. The psychotic coolness that she had dreaded to see in his eyes was momentarily clouded by confusion. All he said, however, was, “No. Come out here.”

She edged into the living room, frantically trying to judge a proper distance to keep between them, one which would protect her physical safety, yet at the same time prevent setting him off by appearing to be too obviously avoiding him. Casually, she made her way to the end table with the alarm button and flipped it on. Not that there was anyone to hear, but on the off chance she could stay in one piece long enough for James to get home … With regret she eyed the unobstructed path to the front door. There was a good chance that if she made a run for it Wesley would give chase—and there was every possibility she could lose him once she was outside. But if he didn’t follow her, God, if he didn’t …

She simply could not risk Greta-Leigh that way. And when it came right down to it, she couldn’t
leave the baby unattended. She had promised to take care of her.

At the same time she was calculating possibilities, she prattled mindlessly. Calling on the years of experience she’d spent forcing vivacity where none had been felt, she smiled, chattered, flashed her dimples, and radiated Southern charm.

She racked her brain for words that would appeal to Wesley’s special brand of snobbery. With bub-bleheaded viciousness, she denigrated her apartment and its furnishings, spouted bigotry that lambasted James and her cherished friends, talked of designer fashions until she feared he would demand to see her wardrobe—which would be nothing short of disastrous. Regularly interspersing the sundry slander, she bemoaned the dearth of social nightlife in Seattle for all the world as if it were the only subject her little brain could retain for more than five minutes running. She lied with a fluency that astonished her, and for nearly fifteen minutes, she kept him at bay.

Wesley lounged on the couch, smiling slightly as he listened to her.

She never afterward could pin down where she had gone wrong. Perhaps she’d simply been whistling in the dark from start to finish. Wesley was so twisted it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that he’d merely been stringing her along for his own perverted amusement, simply to see how far she would go.

Eventually, he interrupted her monologue. “You know, don’t you,” he inquired with a charming smile, “that you have to be punished.”

Aunie’s conversation dried up. Wesley patted the cushion next to him. “Come here.”

She edged away. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Remember the last time you defied me?” he said gently. “I didn’t let you get away with it then and I won’t allow it now.”

“Times change, Wesley.” Emotions gone numb, she turned her back to him and headed for an area where she’d have room to maneuver.

He caught up with her, of course; she didn’t for a moment expect otherwise. Mind clicking furiously through remembered instructions, demonstrations, and those hated practical applications of theory James had forced on her, her only thought was to give a good accounting of herself before she went down. She was going to hang on long enough for help to arrive for Greta-Leigh, and she
was
going to deal some pain of her own. Of that, she was determined.

Damn
his eyes for arriving just when she was beginning to believe she could attain a little happiness of her own.

He grabbed her from behind, roughly grasping her arms. She’d thought she was beyond fear or anger, beyond feelings of any sort, but adrenaline surged through her veins. In her ear, James’s voice whispered with blunt gruffness.

Your natural instinct is to pull away,
it said.
Dammit, are you listening to me? If he grabs you from behind don’t try to lunge forward out of his hold, Magnolia. Step back into it.

She did as she’d been taught. Stepping back she snapped her arms wide and broke his hold. Whirling, she chopped at his Adam’s apple with stiffened fingers. His legs collapsed beneath him, and while he clutched his throat and gasped for breath, she danced away, looking around her for anything that could be
used as a weapon. God, if only the baby were close enough to grab, they could be out of here.

She was going for the nearest lamp when he tackled her. She tried to kick her feet free, but he clung, tripping her up, and they crashed to the floor. Aunie had the farthest to fall and she was momentarily stunned as she slammed onto her back on the planked hardwood, the wind knocked out of her. Wesley scrambled up to kneel astride her and slapped her hard across the face. At the apex of his swing, he immediately reversed his arm and backhanded her with vicious strength, snapping her head to the side.

As she struggled to catch a breath, her chin slowly swiveled back to face him and she stared up at him through watering eyes. Her only satisfaction was in the knowledge that at least he was no longer smiling with that insufferable smugness. Arrogance was ingrained in him up to his well-groomed eyebrows, however. He hadn’t even bothered to secure her hands.

She reached down to where he knelt over her, grabbed at his crotch, and squeezed with all her might. Wesley roared with outraged pain, rained blows about her head until her grasp loosened, and then he toppled to his side. He kicked her in the hip as he fell over.

One of the blows had most likely broken her nose and the blood flowing over her mouth and gurgling in her throat almost succeeded in throwing her into a blind panic. It revived terrifying memories of that other night when pain and choking humiliation were dark companions, resurrected a degrading sensation of helpless submissiveness. Aunie’s reasoning abilities began to cloud and she whimpered. She might have been lost entirely if from the corner of her eye she hadn’t seen Wesley, still curled in a ball with his
hands protectively cupping his genitals, smile with satisfaction at the sound of her distress.

No, dammit! She swiped ineffectually at her mouth, spit out all the blood she could clear from her throat, and pushed to her knees. She dragged herself to the end table and fumbled for the lamp. He wasn’t going to win that easily.
Damned
if he was. Her hands closed around the ceramic base and she jerked, ripping the plug from the socket. Sobbing for breath, she sat back on her heels for a second, hugging the lamp to her breast.

Pain radiated along her nerve endings and she was slower than Wesley to regain her feet. His hand twisted in her hair just as she was straightening and he swung her around. When he suddenly let go, she stumbled dizzily, crashing against the fireplace. The lamp slid from her grasp, breaking harmlessly upon the floor.

Wading through the mess, Wesley grasped her by her shirtfront. He waved a broken shard of lamp in her face and then lowered it from view. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she gasped as she felt her blouse slice apart.

“Beg me not to hurt you,” he demanded. A lust for power burned in his eyes as he caressed her from throat to breast with the broken ceramic.

Aunie tried to make herself smaller. “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t …” She cried out at the sharp sting of the two shallow cuts he slashed on her upper chest. There was a sensation of wetness as tiny beads of blood welled up within the lacerations.

“Whoops,” he murmured. “Guess you weren’t quick enough.” He smiled at her and raised the brittle fragment so she could see it once again. He made several passes with it in front of her face. Aunie’s
eyes followed its hypnotic, weaving progress back and forth.

“You’re not so pretty now, are you?” he crooned. “Not so fucking high and mighty.” He casually nicked her face with the jagged ceramic tip once, twice, and she clawed his wrists frantically.

The pain of her digging nails made him tighten his hold on the improvised weapon and it cut into his palm. Snarling, he dropped it. “You goddamn bitch!” He stepped back and kneed her in the stomach, slapping at her head, neck, and shoulders with both hands. Aunie doubled over, retching.

Her ears were ringing, and at first she didn’t comprehend what made Wesley go so still. Then she heard it, too. Their battle had awakened Greta-Leigh.

“What the—?” Wesley twisted his hand in Aunie’s hair once again and jerked her to him. Herding her along in front of him, his grasp arching her neck to an awkward angle, he marched them down the tiny hall to her bedroom. He kicked open the door and shoved her roughly. Aunie stumbled into the room.

She stared numbly as he walked over to the bed. He ripped the phone on the nightstand out of the wall. “Well, well, well,” he said pleasantly, staring down at the wailing infant. “Aunie’s had herself a pickaninny. Why is it I’m not surprised?”

“She’s not mine,” Aunie replied weakly. Oh, God, she prayed. Please,
please
watch over her. He’s so crazy and she’s only a little baby; don’t let him hurt her. Summoning strength, she said in a more energetic voice. “I’m watching her for the woman downstairs. She’s been ill, and she had to go to the doctor.”