Mirror Image. Laura Scott
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smoke clung to her captor’s clothing. She refused to panic, instead using her elbows and heels to fight back while attempting to pry the muscular arm from around her neck.
For what seemed like endless minutes, she struggled with the man who’d grabbed her, her heart beating frantically in her chest as she fought for air. She hated feeling weak, and for a moment the attack reminded her of the night she’d had to fight her father.
No!
Jenna kicked back again at her assailant’s knees, and her booted heel found its mark. The arm loosened around her neck enough that she could get her hands up to break out of the hold. Then she spun in a roundhouse kick, catching her attacker in the solar plexus.
He staggered backward but didn’t fall down. Jenna wasted precious seconds debating whether or not she could outrun him, but he was already moving deliberately toward her again.
She dropped into a fighting stance, keeping her eyes on the assailant, who wore a black ski mask covering his face. She’d been in tough situations before, but nothing quite like this. She had no idea why this guy had targeted her, and he outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds.
He lashed out with his fist, connecting with her jaw despite her attempt to duck out of the way. Pain exploded in her face, but she ignored it, taking a step back.
Block with your forearm!
Lessons learned during her police-academy training echoed in her mind as she kept her distance from her attacker. She’d survived being attacked by her father all those years ago; certainly she could survive this.
Lord, give me strength!
His fist came out again, and this time she brought her arm up in time to prevent the blow from landing. Pain radiated up her arm, but she quickly lashed out with her other fist, aiming for his nose. Her aim was low and she hit his mouth instead, his teeth scraping the skin off her knuckles.
They fought in a blur of motion, time seeming to stand still. Just when Jenna thought she’d beaten him, he sent her flying backward to land hard on the concrete sidewalk.
She tried to suck air into her lungs, even as he continued toward her like a lion stalking his prey. Jenna couldn’t bear the thought of allowing this guy to get the better of her, so she struck out once again with her foot, kicking him in the groin.
He bent over, muttering a curse as she attempted to scramble to her feet. But then he straightened and reached for her. “I’ve got you now,” he said in a low tone.
“Stop! Police!”
Jenna was just as surprised as her attacker when the harsh voice cut through the silence of the night.
Her assailant spun around and disappeared before Jenna could regain her footing. She sensed someone running toward her, but she didn’t wait for the officer to catch up. She managed to scramble upright and took off after the thug. When she reached the edge of her house, she paused, staring through the darkness, uncertain where he might have gone.
There was no sign of him.
She leaned against the tan brick wall for a moment, trying to calm her racing heart, inwardly berating herself for letting him get away.
What kind of SWAT cop was she? If this had happened to Nate Freemont, or one of the other officers, they’d no doubt have been able to take down and capture the guy without a problem.
Then again, she had managed to hold her own. No easy task when her opponent was taller, more muscular and had the advantage of catching her off guard. Which was her fault, as well, she acknowledged with a sigh. Jenna straightened her shoulders and turned to face the officer who’d come rushing to her rescue.
But her brief moment of relief sank to the soles of her feet when she recognized her lieutenant, Griffin Vaughn, jogging toward her, his expression etched in what she suspected was a permanent scowl.
He was the last guy on the entire planet she wanted or expected to see. Especially in a moment of weakness. But she pulled herself together with an effort and lifted her aching chin, determined to show her boss that she was a cop first and foremost.
She’d never be a victim again.
* * *
Griff couldn’t believe the brutal attack on Jenna he’d stumbled across when he’d driven down her street.
Deputy Reed, he reminded himself firmly, as he closed the distance between them.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice coming out more harshly than he’d intended. He raked his gaze over her, trying to assure himself that she wasn’t harmed.
“Yeah, I’m fine. What are you doing here, Lieutenant?”
Griff inwardly sighed, wishing she’d call him Griff the way the rest of his deputies did. She was the only one who continued to use his title, and for some reason that fact grated on him. “You left your credit card at Joey’s, and since I was on my way back to work, I volunteered to drop it off.” He held out the plastic card, glad he’d left the pizzeria when he did. The thought of not getting here in time made him feel sick to his stomach. “Who was that guy? Did you recognize him?”
She tucked the card into her back pocket, then shook her head, lifting her hand to massage her shoulder as if it hurt. “He wore a ski mask and didn’t say much, so unfortunately not.”
Griff hated the thought of Jenna being injured and forced himself to glance around her front yard, trying to figure out what had happened. “No demand to hand over money?” When she shook her head, he scowled. “Seems strange. Why else would he attack you? Maybe you should get inside. I’ll call for backup.”
Jenna frowned and planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t need to go inside. Call this in if you want, but I’m going to go around back to make sure he’s not hanging out somewhere nearby.”
Griff hid a wince, knowing she had a right to be upset. After all, he’d hired her. He knew she was a capable deputy on the SWAT team. She was an ace sharpshooter and could handle herself.
So why the need to protect her? Because he still wrestled with guilt over his role in his wife’s death?
He shied away from that thought. “We’ll both sweep the area,” he amended. “You go left. I’ll go right. If we don’t find anything, no need to call for reinforcements.”
Jenna gave a curt nod. “Give me a minute to grab my weapon.”
He waited while she opened her front door, collected her service weapon and came back outside. He wished she’d still been in uniform, because he was certain the assailant wouldn’t have got away so easily if she’d had her gun. His fault that she wasn’t. He knew all the deputies had changed because of his penchant for following the rules.
Griff watched her disappear into the shadows before heading in the opposite direction.
He tightened his grip on his .38, moving slowly across Jenna’s front yard to the north side of the house. There were plenty of trees on the neighbor’s lawn, and he peered through the darkness, trying to see if anyone was hiding there.
He moved from the edge of the house to the closest tree. Nothing seemed out of place and he was a little surprised that the fight between Jenna and her assailant hadn’t garnered more attention from the neighbors. Granted, it was late, but surely someone would have heard something and come out to investigate.
The faint sound of a car starting caught his attention, and he recognized the unique clicking associated with a diesel engine.
Did the perp have a getaway car hidden nearby? If that was the case, he’d be long gone. Griff squinted, trying to make out any sign of a car in the darkness. He couldn’t see anything, not even headlights.
After making sure no one was lingering behind the neighbor’s trees or shrubs, he made his way into Jenna’s backyard. There was a nice little patio with a round table, four chairs and a decent-sized grill.
He