Double Deception. Terri Reed
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the broad back of a man appeared within her line of vision. Please, don’t let him find me.
She squeezed farther into the corner. The man stopped in front of the open closet door, his head cocked to one side. He moved out of her view and she heard the barely perceptible creak of the mattress and a powerful beam of light lit the room. Kate closed her eyes and prayed her ruse had worked and he thought she’d escaped.
The light went out and she heard a soft thud. He’d stepped off the bed. A second later she heard him move toward the doorway. Tensing, she waited.
Through the crack between the door and the jamb she saw him pass by, a dimmer shape against the darkness. Relief coursed through her, making her knees weak. She hadn’t been found. Thank You, Lord.
Minutes ticked by. She heard the solid click of the front door being closed, the sound of the man retreating to take his search into the night. The waiting seemed eternal before she gathered enough nerve to emerge from behind the door.
Should she go through the house to escape? She turned to look at the broken window. The jagged edges would cut her to shreds. She didn’t have any choice. She had to go through the house.
Brody stood poised with his back against the wall at the mouth of the long, dark hallway. Clever trick, breaking the glass to make it look as if his prey had jumped out the window and escaped.
The second Brody had entered the bedroom he’d known he wasn’t alone. A tightening of his senses had made him aware of the other’s presence.
Even if his instincts hadn’t alerted him, he still would have known. No one could have gone out that window without cutting themselves and leaving a trail of blood. Besides, the lack of footprints in the soft, mossy dirt below the window, visible in his flashlight’s beam, had been a dead giveaway.
So he waited. Waited as a honed patience calmed his heart and readied his body. It was only a matter of time.
Inch by inch, Kate made her way down the pitch-black corridor, her hand guiding her past the doors to the other rooms. As she neared the living room she stopped. A familiar, yet strange sensation tickled her spine. She wasn’t alone.
On some deep, basic level she felt the man’s presence, sensed his heartbeat. She pressed her back flat against the wall and balled her hands into tight fists. It wasn’t fair. But then, God never promised life would be fair, only that He’d be there.
Her gaze slid from the grayer light of the house back to the darkness of the windowless hall. Was he behind her in the dark, inching his way toward her? Taking her lip between her teeth to keep tears and welling panic at bay, she stood immobile, unsure what her next move should be.
Tension coiled, her stomach churned and her lungs burned. She couldn’t go back. She had to go forward.
With a deep breath, she pushed from the wall and forced her legs to move fast. Adrenaline coursed through her limbs and her heart raced. She could see the front door. She just had to make it across the open entry way. Three more feet…iron cords wrapped around her, stopping her momentum with a jerk. She screamed as she was tackled to the ground.
Her head smacked against the hardwood and spots of light exploded before her eyes. A huge, muscled body landed on top of her, effectively pinning her beneath his hulking figure, and drove the air from her lungs.
Fear blasted up her spine. She was going to die, and it was all Paul’s fault.
With a grip of steel, the man yanked her arms over her head and held her wrists captive while another probing hand ran over her body. Numbing shock rippled through her, then the roaming hand stilled.
The man swore in a deep hiss near her ear and eased off her.
She took a shallow breath.
“You’re a woman,” a deep, rich voice accused.
The observation seemed ridiculous. Of course she was a woman. Did Paul’s murderer think Paul had been married to a monkey?
The ridiculous thought brought fear raging headlong into her consciousness. This man was here to get something she hadn’t a clue about, and then he would probably kill her the way he’d killed Paul. Then another thought flittered across her mind: what if he assaulted her before killing her? Oh, Lord, take me home quickly.
No. Not yet. Sheer terror spurred her into action. She twisted and turned, her body bucking in an effort to throw him off balance. Her hands pulled against the restraint of his grip, her legs struggled to find leverage on the floor, pushing and kicking wildly. The toe of her shoe made contact with a shin, eliciting a grunt of pain from her attacker. A moment of satisfaction brought a tightening to her lips.
Her knee flew upward but he rolled slightly, deflecting her hit to his hip. She ground her back teeth. She wasn’t going to let him win. She wasn’t ready to die.
“Hey, lady. Calm down.”
Calm down? He wanted her calm so he could kill her. Her grandmother had taught her that God hadn’t made women to be passive, but proactive. She’d fight with everything she had before she’d calmly let this man do her in.
Arching upward, she used her forehead as a ramming device. She connected with his chin, causing his teeth to come together with a snap. Pain shot through her.
For a moment his grip lessened and she took advantage of the opportunity. Freeing a hand, she lashed out, aiming for his eyes. She fell short, her nails raking sharply down his face, evoking a yowl of pain.
“That’s it!” The harsh words echoed through the house. He held her hands in a grip so tight she knew she’d never get free.
“No!” But still she fought, determined not to give up until the last breath left her body. Too many questions remained unanswered, too much pain still lived in her heart. Blind fear made her body convulse, desperate to break free.
The chink of metal somewhere above her head made her close her eyes. She didn’t want to see the torture device he would use on her and she prayed for oblivion. Oblivion and a painless death.
She cried out in surprise as he twisted her arm behind her and flipped her over. Cold metal encircled her wrists. A sharp snap filled her ears. And only then, from the far reaches of sanity, did she realize she’d been handcuffed. The man spoke in low, smooth tones, but her terror-fogged mind couldn’t grasp the words.
“Do you understand?” The steady cadence of his words, the richness of his voice, washed over her and a sense of unreality set in. Closing her eyes tightly, she readied herself for the journey to heaven.
The man grasped her shoulders and gently shook her. “Do you understand? Answer me!”
“No.” She didn’t understand why she was about to die. She didn’t understand how she’d come to this point in time. And she didn’t understand how she could have been so wrong about Paul. Who had she been married to? What kind of man had he really been? And why had he allowed this to happen to her? Unfortunately, she would die without the answers.
“Lady, how hard is it to understand? You’re under arrest.”
TWO
The woman beneath him stilled.
“Arrest?” The word came out in a dry croak.
“Yes, you’re under arrest.” Brody couldn’t see her face but he heard the rapid labor of her breath, felt the rise and fall of her chest where their ribs connected. And he was all too aware of the fact that his intruder was female. Soft and full of curves. The smell of lilacs he’d detected earlier wasn’t a remnant of the owner’s last visit, sporadic as they were.
The scent clung to his captive’s hair.
Pushing away, he came to his knees and helped her to a sitting position.
“You’re…you’re not here…to kill me?” Her voice faded to a hushed