Temperature Rising (21 page)

The words were hardly out of Connie’s mouth when Laken heard the grind and splintering of wood as the door was pried open. Without conscious thought, she shoved Connie into the closet.

“Get help, I’ll try to delay him.” She could see Connie start to object and shook her head. “Please stay here. It’s me he’s after,” she whispered, closing the door quietly.

Her heart pounded as she moved across the room, pressing her back against the wall by the end of the hall. She raised the baseball bat in a batter’s stance and listened. Her heart pounded and sweat broke out on her brow. Her vision blurred as her mind started to slip into the nightmare. She fought it back but not before she caught images of him moving though the kitchen toward the bedroom where she’d been sleeping. The sick wave of his thirst to kill her consumed him. He didn’t care that the lights were on in the hall, or that Connie was in the house too. He would kill her too because she was there, as though she was of no consequence.

She couldn’t let him kill Connie. The thought hit Laken hard. Maybe her facing the Hunter was what was meant to be. Maybe that was why she had the nightmares, but she was not going to let Connie suffer for it. She tightened her grip on the bat. She was not going down without a fight.

The creak of a floorboard in the hall almost shattered her resolve. A second later the dark cloaked form of the Hunter came into view. Laken swung the bat with all her might, registering at the last second her swing was too low. The man must’ve caught the motion because he started to pull back, but it wasn’t in time to keep the bat from hitting him solidly in his chest.

A grunt escaped him and he staggered back but, like the possessed man he was, he came right back. One arm was locked over his chest, and he fought for breath. It did nothing to lessen the blow of the punch he threw out, catching Laken in the shoulder before she could get the bat back around again. She fell back into an end table, tumbling over it onto the couch, and knocking the lamp to the floor.

“Think you can take me? Think you’re better than I am?” The words came out like grinding rocks. He grabbed the leg of the table to shove it out of his way. Laken used the opportunity to roll off the couch to her feet. She staggered a little, making her way around a coffee table. His hat had come off, giving her the first look at the Hunter.

He wasn’t much older than she was. He looked so normal with dark hair, strong cheekbones, and a dimple in his chin. She would’ve thought him good looking if it wasn’t for the feverish hatred in his eyes that seemed to consume anything good about him. Regaining control of her thoughts, she moved back toward the door, drawing him across the room. She had to get him out of the house before he found Connie.

“Stay back.” She lifted the bat again, knowing it would infuriate the man as much as deter him.

When he moved closer, she swung out. Unfortunately, this time he was watching and dodged. He attacked before she could strike again. She screamed and shoved the bat up between them. He grabbed the bat and twisted it free, sending her across the floor, banging back against the front door.

Stunned, she started to sink to the floor until she locked her knees to keep her up. She couldn’t let him win.

“It’s all your fault!” the Hunter yelled as he walked purposefully toward her, tossing her only weapon away.

Laken ignored the sound of something breaking as the bat landed in the dining room, fumbling with the lock as the man approached. There was no relief when it clicked unlocked because there was no time to open the door. The Hunter grabbed her shoulder, spun her around and slammed her back against the door.

“Your fault.” The words spat with venom.

“No,” Laken yelled back. “What did I do to you?” she challenged.

“You think you’re as good as a man.”

She was surprised when he answered, and her mind raced for a way to keep him talking until the police got there. “No, I don’t. You’re stronger than I am.”

He looked shocked then shook his head. “Women are vicious. They sneak up and stab you in the back, using their looks and bodies so you don’t see it coming.”

Silhouetted in the hallway light, Laken saw his hand move to the pocket of his raincoat and knew from her nightmares he was going for the knife there. “No!” she yelled again and dove for him, dropping her shoulder to ram into his chest where she’d hit him with the bat. The block would’ve made her brothers proud.

The Hunter was caught by surprise. A grunt of pain erupted from his body, echoed by another as he hit the ground. Laken clamped down on her own outcry as her body rebelled from the jarring impact. She longed to lay still but forced herself to roll to the side away from the man.

The hand that caught her wrist locked down so tightly, she feared it would break her arm. There was no keeping back her own cry of pain. He rolled over onto her, his free hand going to her neck, squeezing down.

Laken clawed at the hand as lights flashed in front of her eyes. She was aware of him pulling her up. The fever slashed through her senses, and she knew he was going for the knife again.
I’m
going to die.
No!
Her mind mutinied against the thought, but there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it. Then he staggered and staggered again, releasing her. Laken started to sink to the ground only to be caught by Connie.

Laken stumbled several steps back before she realized the Hunter had dropped to the ground. He held his head, but he wasn’t out. Whatever Connie had hit him with lay shattered around them on the floor. By the time Connie got the door open, Laken had enough air back into her lungs to make it outside with Connie.

The cool night air helped refresh and clear her mind. Though she longed to be met with sirens and police, the night was utterly silent. “We have to split up,” Laken said, choking a bit on the words. Her throat burned from the abuse, and her voice sounded raspy and unfamiliar.

“We should stay together,” Connie objected.

“No,” Laken replied, cutting her off. “We split up and head to the neighbors on each side.”

At that, Connie nodded.

Laken’s feet had barely touched the grass when she heard the Hunter crash onto the porch. She forced herself to run and prayed that Connie was doing the same thing in the opposite direction. He couldn’t follow them both and Laken knew it was her he’d go after. She was at the edge of the house when the figure dropped down by her, his dark raincoat billowing out like a giant set of wings, his hand clawing at her like talons.

She screamed and tumbled to the ground, rolling away, before scrambling back to her feet. The Hunter was angled between her and the next house and the road, so Laken took the only avenue available and headed for the back of the house. He came after her, only to go back down as he slipped on the damp grass. He was right back up, but the fall had given her about an eight foot head start.

Her subconscious yelled she needed to stay close to the house until the police arrived, but panic warred with her, telling her to flee. She rounded the corner, her foot coming down on a sprinkler head, gouging it into the shin. Pain almost took her to the ground, but fear kept her going. Moonlight shone off the detached garage and the garbage cans beside it.

The Hunter closed the distance behind her. Laken fought the urge to look back; instead she pressed for more speed. A hand caught hold of the back of her nightgown, ripping both the material and her from her feet, dropping her to her knees.

The scream that tried to make it out was cut off in her throat. Again, Laken found herself pulled from the ground and turned to face the Hunter. His arm locked around her, pulling her tight to his chest. She looked up into his eyes and felt the fevered gaze start to overtake her. Her vision blurred then she saw the vision of her face looking up. Her hair framed her panicked face in wild disarray. Elation filled her. It would finally be right.

“No!” She fought back, struggling against the hold on her mind and body. The knife was in his hand, she knew. She slammed her head forward, her forehead smashing into his nose, and he staggered back dragging her with him a couple steps, but not releasing her. She wanted to scream again, but before she could something slammed into them. The blow hit her so hard it knocked the air from her body and sent her flying several feet before smacking to the ground in a pain-fogged stupor.

****

Jonesy brought the car to a skidding halt at the mouth of his driveway. The headlights caught Connie, freezing her on the spot. She ran to them before they even made it out of the car.

“Where’s Laken?” Mac demanded as Jonesy caught his wife to him.

“Round back,” she cried. “He’s here. The killer’s here.”

Mac heard the words as he ran up the driveway toward the back yard, leaving Jonesy to see to his wife’s safety. He knew his partner would be behind him, backing him up, as soon as possible.

Mac cursed his leg as it threatened to give out from under him when he stepped down on an uneven section of pavement. He pushed down the pain and forced himself on, praying he could reach Laken in time. He skirted the shrub at the corner of the house, hardly registering the sting when a branch lashed his face.

Laken’s short white nightgown was a beacon in the dark. The killer had her clamped to him. Laken was between him and the man, making it impossible to take a shot. Mac wanted to cheer when he saw her slam her head into his nose, but any cheer faltered along with his command to freeze, when moonlight glistened on the knife the man raised over her back.

From six feet away, Mac made his leap, his entire concentration on the knife. His hands locked on the arm holding the weapon, forcing it up and away from Laken as his body plowed into the pair. Mac kept his hold on the arm, his momentum flipping him up over the man. He felt the bite of metal on his side as he rolled with the killer away from Laken. Mac felt his leg twist under him and the man’s knee gouge into his thigh as they finally came to a stop, the killer on top.

The Hunter snarled in rage. Mac tried to ignore the searing pain in his leg and concentrate on the man. It was all he could do to keep his hands locked on the fist that held the knife, which waved dangerously close to his face. The man was strong and being pressed to the ground limited Mac’s movements. He struggled to keep the knife from stabbing into his chest.

Mac tried to wedge his legs under him to use the leverage to flip them over but his left one gave out, sending up another wave of agony. For a second his mind hazed. It cleared just in time to push the knife back as it dug into his chest. Pulling all his will power, Mac shoved up, forcing the man back. He released one hand on the knife arm and sent his fist into the killer’s face. From Mac’s position on the ground, he couldn’t get any back swing to add much power to the punch, but his aim was true, connecting with the nose that Laken had smashed her head into a few minutes earlier.

The killer went over in a cry of agony, blood spurting. Mac struggled up from the ground but had no time to steady himself as the killer dove for him, knife raised ready to plunge into him. Mac got an arm up to deflect the blow, grabbing and twisting to the side, flipping the man to the ground. But the movement put too much pressure on his leg, and it crumpled under him.

Mac fought to take in air as shooting pain tried to wipe it out.
Get up!
his mind yelled, but his body was sluggish to answer. He made it to his side and up on one knee, the other refusing to make that motion. The killer, too, was struggling to make it to his feet — and making better progress. The man turned on him again, the knife locked in his outstretched hand. Unable to regain his feet, Mac went for his gun knowing there was little hope of pulling it free and pointing it toward the killer before the man buried the knife into him. Still, it was the only chance.

The killer was only two feet away, and the gun just clearing the holster when Laken’s filmy, white-clad form tackled the killer from the side. The pair tumbled over, landing several feet away but the killer didn’t stay down.

“Freeze!” Mac yelled, bringing his gun to point.

The killer didn’t pause in his movements. “Your fault,” he shouted, diving for Laken. The bullet from Mac’s gun jerked him back and the one from Jonesy’s spun him to the side. The Hunter fell still, his eyes wide in shock as his life flowed out. “No.” The word gurgled up. “Can’t.”

Whatever else he was going to say died on his lips with him. Not that Mac cared to know. He barely got his arm opened to her as Laken dove for him. He fell back not caring about anything but having her locked in his arms.

“I love you.” She cried the words, and Mac felt his world go right. Nothing mattered, not the dead man, the pain in his leg or the knowledge that his time in law enforcement was over. Everything that was important was in his arms.

“Marry me.”

“Oh, yes.” She sealed the promise with a kiss, and Mac realized he’d just asked her to marry him again, in the middle of another crime scene, still without a ring. Then again that didn’t matter as long as her answer was “yes”.

Epilogue

Three months later.

Laken heard Mac come through the door and turned to greet him with a smile and a slice of strawberry pie. “Well, how was your first day of classes?”

His eyes gleamed, catching sight of her. “Great, but this is better.” He took the plate from her, breaking off a piece of pie, but instead of taking the bite, he waved it in front of her face. “Open up.”

She laughed and complied, not at all surprised when his lips followed the bite to her mouth. After three weeks of marriage, Laken was getting used to Mac’s idea of sharing. As the kiss continued, Laken felt her heart jump and a wave of heat enveloped her. The only fevers she had now were raised by Mac. She figured life couldn’t get much better. Mac had gotten the job at the university. Mr. Sherman had accepted the initial plans for his new building. They had found the perfect house with a nice, large yard. They’d had an incredible honeymoon filled with sun and each other.