The Lawman’s Nanny Op Page 9

  She tried to summon a scream, but nothing came out. Again and again she slammed her fist against the attacker’s face and shoulders and then she managed to get a leg out from beneath the sheet and began to kick, as well.

  The intruder drove a fist into Portia’s jaw, snapping her head back against the pillow and finally, a scream ripped from her throat.

  “Portia!” Layla’s voice sounded from the distance. “Portia, are you all right? I’m coming in there and I’ve got my gun.”

  In the flash of an eyeblink the attacker was up and off the bed and back through the torn window screen to the outside.

  Portia gulped in deep breaths of air and sat up at the same time her bedroom door flew open and the overhead light went on.

  If she hadn’t been so terrified, she might have laughed at the sight of Layla in a hot-pink camisole and matching bikini bottoms and wielding not a gun, but a hair flatiron in her hands.

  She was crouched as if ready to spring and looked like a high-fashion ninja warrior. But instead of laughing, Portia grabbed her burning throat and hoarsely cried out to her friend.

  Layla threw down the hair iron and ran to the window and closed and locked it, then rushed to Portia’s side. “Are you okay? Oh, God, Portia. Who was here? Did you get a look at who it was?”

  Portia shook her head as she rubbed her aching neck and then moved her hand to touch her jaw. Cold. She was so cold.

  It had only been a couple of hours ago that she’d wondered if she and Caleb had been overreacting to the events of the last couple of days.

  Caleb.

  She had to call him. She needed to tell him what had happened. A sob wrenched up her aching throat as Layla helped her out of the bed, but she swallowed it as she desperately tried to stay in control.

  She needed to get out of this room, away from the window. She was afraid the person might come back to finish the job, afraid that this nightmare would never be over.

  Layla seemed to sense her need and led her to the bedroom door. She didn’t say anything but held tight as if aware of how close she’d come to losing her friend.

  If Portia hadn’t managed to release that scream, there was no doubt in her mind that Layla would have found her dead in her bed in the morning. She leaned weakly against Layla, her body trembling violently as she played and replayed the last few minutes in her mind.

  Those hands had been so strong and so intent on squeezing the life from her and they’d come so close to success.

  When they were in the living room Portia grabbed the phone and quickly dialed Caleb’s cell phone number. Layla sat next to her on the sofa, her face pale with shock and worry.

  Portia held it together until she heard the sound of his deep, sleepy voice.

  “Caleb,” she said. “I need you.” The control she’d tried so hard to maintain snapped and she began to weep.

  Chapter 8

  Caleb had never driven so fast down the streets of Black Rock. Thankfully at two-thirty in the morning there were no other cars on the road to get in his way.

  The phone call from Portia had scared the hell out of him. All he’d managed to get out of her was that she needed him before Layla had gotten on the phone and told him somebody had come through the bedroom window and had tried to strangle Portia.

  He gripped the steering wheel tightly as he made a right turn down the street that would take him to Portia’s place.

  Dammit, whoever had broken in her house had balls of steel. They had to have seen Layla’s car in the driveway and that still hadn’t deterred them from trying to get to Portia.

  He’d called Tom and Benjamin and asked them to meet him at Portia’s. It was a crime scene and he couldn’t take care of the situation on his own.

  When he pulled up to Portia’s every light in the house shone and he jumped out of his car and hurried to the door. “Portia, it’s me,” he said as he banged on the door. Layla let him inside and he strode into the living room. Portia was up and off the sofa and into his arms in an instant.

  She trembled violently and cried into the front of his shirt. He tightened his embrace and looked at Layla, who sat on the sofa. She wore a short pink robe and a look of horror. Portia wore her robe, too, the silk material cool against him.

  “He came in through the bedroom window,” Layla said. “He cut the screen and got the window open and came inside and he tried to strangle her.” Layla’s voice rose an octave. “He tried to kill her, Caleb. If I hadn’t been here I don’t know what would have happened.”

  “You’re sure it was a man?” he asked as Portia’s sobs began to subside.

  She finally moved from his embrace and looked up at him, her eyes filled with turbulent emotions. He saw the redness of her jaw and throat and wanted to hit somebody, wanted to smash the perpetrator in the face.

  “I don’t know. All I can tell you is that whoever it was, was strong.” She raised a hand and touched her neck. “He wore a ski mask and it was so dark I couldn’t tell anything about him.” She moved to sit on the sofa and at that moment Tom and Benjamin arrived.

  For the next hour the men processed the window and the bedroom, questioned Portia and Layla over and over again and tried to find something that might lead them to the identity of the intruder.

  An ambulance arrived and the paramedics checked out Portia, looking at her throat and jaw and making the assessment that she didn’t need emergency care, and at Portia’s insistence had finally left.

  Unfortunately, everything had happened so fast, she hadn’t gotten a really good impression of the person who’d attacked her. She wasn’t sure about height or weight and couldn’t tell them hair or eye color.

  Throughout this time all Caleb could think about was how close she’d come to being killed. His heart beat an unnatural rhythm throughout the questioning, a combination of fear for her and suppressed rage.

  If he looked at her red jaw and bruised throat for too long he feared losing himself in that rage. He knew if that happened he wouldn’t be able to do his job properly.

  It was after four when Tom and Benjamin were finished. They’d collected her bedding to be checked for any trace evidence. The window had yielded no fingerprints, but they hadn’t expected to find any since Portia was certain the person had worn gloves.

  “You’re coming home with me,” he said to Portia as Tom and Benjamin went out the front door.

  She hesitated and it was Layla who took her by the hands. “Go, Portia. Go home with Caleb and let him keep you safe for the rest of the night. I love you dearly, but I can’t keep you safe like he will.”

  “I’ll just get some things together.” She got off the sofa but hesitated.

  “I’ll go with you,” Caleb said, easily guessing that she didn’t want to go into the bedroom alone. She gave him a grateful smile. “Layla, just hang tight and we’ll follow you home,” he said as he headed down the hallway with Portia.

  He stood in the doorway as she pulled a small suitcase from her closet and began to gather some clothes. They didn’t speak. He had a feeling that at least for the moment she was all talked out.

  Again a wealth of anger filled him as he glanced at the window and the bare mattress. “When I find him, I’ll kill him.” The words fell from his mouth before he realized he was speaking out loud.

  “No, you won’t,” she replied. “You’ll arrest him and do it the right way because that’s the kind of honorable man you are.” She went into the adjoining bathroom and he stared after her, surprised and touched by her assessment of him.

  She returned a moment later carrying a makeup bag, hairbrush and a bottle of shampoo. She added those to her clothes and then shut the suitcase. “I’m ready. Let’s get out of here.”

  When they returned to the living room Layla had changed into street clothes, had her bags ready to go, and they all left the house. As Caleb and Portia got into his car and Layla got into hers, Caleb looked around the neighborhood, hoping that nobody was watching them, yet wishing he’d see the per
p hiding in the shadows so he could chase him down and smash his face in as payback for the bruised jaw and neck on Portia.

  “I underestimated the person who is after you,” he said once they were on the road behind Layla’s car. “I assumed having somebody with you, anybody with you, would keep you safe.” He slammed a hand against the dashboard. “Dammit, I can’t believe he tried to get to you with Layla in the next room.”

  “If I hadn’t awakened when I did, he would have succeeded. He would have been on top of me and strangled me to death before I could make a sound.” She wrapped her arms around her middle, as if possessed by a deep chill. “Thank God I managed to scream. And when Layla yelled that she was coming, that she had a gun, that sent him back out the window.”

  They pulled up in front of Layla’s house and she got out of her car and walked back to passenger side of his vehicle. Portia lowered her window.

  “I would have flat-ironed his ass,” Layla said and Caleb was grateful for the sharp burst of laughter that left Portia’s lips. It lasted only a second, but it let him know she was going to be all right. He admired the strength she possessed in not falling into hysterics about what she’d endured.

  “Thanks, Layla,” she said. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you. You saved my life tonight.”

  Layla flashed Portia a bright smile. “When this is all over buy me lunch and we’ll call it even.”

  “Done,” Portia replied.

  Caleb remained in the driveway until Layla was safely inside her house and then he pulled out and headed toward his place.

  The drive to his house was silent. Portia leaned her head back and closed her eyes and Caleb tried desperately not to look at the marks around her throat.

  She was wrong about one thing. If he’d been in that bedroom when the person had been throttling her, Caleb would have killed him. There would have been no arrest, no judge and jury, just justice done with a vengeance.

  The attacker had been stupid to try to get to her tonight when she hadn’t been alone. Maybe he’d thought he was big enough, strong enough to take them both out. Whatever the case, it spoke of a hatred so intense the potential killer was willing to take big chances.

  As he pulled into his driveway and turned off the engine, Portia opened her eyes and sat up. “What happens now?” she asked, her voice holding a weariness he’d never heard before.

  “Right now we get some sleep and then we figure things out in the morning,” he said. He got out of the car and she did, as well, her gaze furtive as she looked around the immediate area.

  Caleb grabbed her suitcase from the backseat and then took her by the elbow and led her to the front door. “You’ll be safe here, Portia,” he said, not a hint of doubt in his voice. There was no way in hell he’d allow anyone to get to her while she was under his roof.

  She raised a hand to her throat and nodded as he unlocked the door and ushered her into the living room. “Do you need some ice to put on that?” he asked as he dropped her bag to the floor.

  “No, it will be okay,” she replied and lowered her hand to her side.

  “What about your jaw? It looks like it’s going to bruise, too.”

  “It’s all right. I just need to get some sleep. I’m sure things will look brighter in the morning.” She tried to smile but tears filled her eyes. “Won’t they look brighter in the morning, Caleb?”

  Although he absolutely refused to fall in love with her again, there was no way he could see the need, the fear in her and not respond.

  He pulled her toward him and she burrowed into him, pressing her trembling body tight against his. He knew the emotion that drove her into his arms was nothing more than fear and the residual horror of what she’d just been through, but that didn’t stop him from responding to her nearness.

  As he stroked his hand down her back in an effort to soothe her, his head filled with the dizzying scent of her hair, and the warmth of her sweet curves lit a tiny fire in the pit of his stomach.

  He held her for only a moment, then stepped back, afraid she might feel his arousal. “Let’s get you settled in,” he said. He picked up her suitcase from the floor and carried it down the hallway to the guest room.

  “It’s not much,” he said as he set the suitcase on the bed. He followed her gaze as it tracked around the room. There wasn’t much to see. A single-size bed was against one wall covered in a drab, brown bedspread. A dresser stood against another wall, the top holding only a small vase with plastic yellow daisies.

  “It’s fine,” she said.

  “The bathroom is right across the hall,” he said.

  “I’ll be right back.” She left the room and went into the bathroom. While she was gone Caleb pulled off the bedspread and turned down the sheet. What he wanted to do was lay her down and make love to her until that fear in her eyes was replaced with passion. But he knew that wasn’t what she needed. By the time he finished with the bed she came back into the room.

  “Thank you, Caleb, for bringing me here. There was no way I could go back to sleep in my room, in my house.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and looked at him with those beautiful hazel eyes. “Would you mind sitting in here for just a little while, maybe until I go to sleep?”

  He hated the fear that darkened her eyes, the slight tremble of her lower lip. Those lips were made for laughing, for kissing, not for trembling with fear.

  “I’ll stay here as long as you want me to,” he replied.

  She took off her robe and laid it on the end of the bed, then slid in beneath the sheet. Caleb turned off the light and then sat on the edge of the bed.

  The light from the hallway allowed him to see her face and even though she closed her eyes he saw the tension that rode her features and knew sleep wouldn’t come easy for her. “Want to talk about it?” he asked softly.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I just wish somebody could tell me why this is happening, what I’ve done to deserve this.”

  “You don’t deserve this, no matter what you might have done,” he replied.

  “Maybe this is the end of it,” she said as her eyelids drooped with sleepiness. “Maybe after tonight whoever it is will give up and go away.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed, although he was certain that wasn’t the case.

  He couldn’t forget that the person who wanted to harm Portia had taken a chance tonight by attempting to get to her with somebody else in the house. That move smelled of desperation and mindless rage.

  Caleb’s stomach twisted into a cold, hard knot. As much as he’d like to assure her that he saw a swift and just ending to all this, he didn’t. What he did see was darkness and danger and a cunning assailant with murder on the mind.

  As Portia drifted off to sleep, fear twisted in Caleb’s heart.

  Portia awoke with a gasp, for a moment disoriented as she took in her surroundings. Then the events of the night before came crashing back into her mind. The intruder, the hands around her throat, the fight for her life—the horrible visions flashed like a horror movie and all she wanted to do was leave the theater.

  You’re safe, a voice whispered in the back of her head. She sat up and drew a deep steadying breath. Her last memory before sleep had overtaken her was of Caleb’s presence next to her on the bed.

  Hopefully nobody saw him take her out of her house the night before. Hopefully nobody knew she was here. Surely she’d be safe now.

  Although there was no clock in the room she could tell by the cast of the sun streaming through the window that it was late. The house was silent and she assumed that Caleb had probably left to go to work.

  As she got out of bed her jaw ached and her throat hurt, but it was a manageable pain. She grabbed her robe and pulled it on, then left the bedroom with coffee on her mind.

  She’d scarcely looked at her surroundings the night before and so as she entered the living room she gazed around with interest. There wasn’t much to see.

  In between a nondescript beige chair an
d matching sofa was a wooden table with a beige lamp. An entertainment center held a television and stereo system and on one shelf was the only thing that indicated who lived here. That shelf contained photos of the Grayson family.

  She stepped closer, her heart constricting as she gazed at a picture of Caleb and Brittany. She couldn’t imagine the pain the Grayson men were all going through as they wondered what had happened to their sister.

  “Good morning.”

  She jumped as Caleb appeared in the kitchen doorway. “I didn’t know you were here,” she exclaimed. He motioned her into the kitchen and to a chair at the table. She glanced at the clock on the stove and saw that it was just after ten. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  “You are my work for now,” he replied as he poured her a cup of coffee and set it in front of her. “In fact, you’re going to be my work until we figure this all out.”

  She looked at him in dismay. “Oh, Caleb, I don’t want to take you away from everything else you should be doing.”

  His eyes were almost black. “I don’t want you alone now, Portia. I want you here with me until we figure out what’s going on. Nobody but Layla knows you’re here and that’s the way I want to keep it.”

  “But that’s crazy,” she protested. “You need to be working on finding your sister. You can’t just drop everything because of me.”

  “I can’t do anything right now to help Brittany. We’ve reached a dead end at the moment.” His voice rang with a hint of his agony. “Until that changes I can try to keep you safe from harm.”

  Portia wrapped her fingers around her coffee mug and gazed at him intently. “And you would go to all this trouble for anyone in town?”

  “You’re not anyone,” he said. “You’re somebody I once loved, somebody I still care about although not in the same way I once did. Now what do you want for breakfast?”

  “Nothing, I’m really not hungry,” she replied. She wasn’t sure why his words hurt her just a little bit. After all, she felt the same way about him. He was somebody she still cared about but not in the romantic, loving way she’d once felt.