Page 24 of Mean Streak

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A half hour later, he turned out the lamp. She was still wide awake and acutely aware of him as he approached the bed. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath.

Wild with fear, she mentally chanted, Please don’t, please don’t, please don’t.

But alongside that silent plea for him not to molest her, not to kill her, was another, equally strong, that he not disappoint her. It was stupid and inexplicable, but there it was. For reasons that had nothing to do with fear, she didn’t want him to be a degenerate, a rapist, a murderer, or in any way deranged or evil.

“I know you’re awake. Look at me.”

Except for her heart hammering against her ribs, she lay unmoving.

The mattress dipped when he placed his knee near her hip. Alarmed, she rolled onto her back and gasped when he planted his hands on either side of her shoulders, bridging her body, blocking her view of the rafters, that worrisome metal bar, everything except his face.

“When the weather clears, I swear to you that I’ll take you down the mountain. I’ll see to it that you’re safe. Until then, I won’t hurt you. Understand?”

Incapable of speech, she bobbed her head once.

“Do you believe me?”

With absolute honesty, she whispered, “I want to.”

“You can.”

“How can I, when you won’t answer the most basic questions?”

“Ask me a basic question.”

“What’s your name?”

“What’s it matter?”

“If it doesn’t matter, why won’t you tell me?”

“Trust me, Doc, you go meddling in my life, you won’t like what you find.”

“If you didn’t want me to meddle you shouldn’t have brought me here.”

He came as close to smiling as he ever did. “You’ve got me there.”

She analyzed his features, searching for clues into the terrible thing he’d done. It was a strong face, unrelievedly masculine, but evocative of mystery more than menace. “Why are you hiding from the authorities?”

“Why does anyone?”

“So they won’t get caught.”

“There you have it.”

“As a law-abiding citizen, I can’t simply—”

“Yes you can,” he said insistently. “You can simply leave it alone.”

Suddenly she was tired of his veiled threats and decided to challenge him. “Or what? What will you do? You’ve promised not to hurt me.”

Even had she not been able to see his eyes in the darkness, she would have felt them, taking in her mouth, throat, the open neck of the shirt. They moved as low as the vee of her thighs before coming back to hers.

She held her breath.

He whispered, “It wouldn’t hurt.”

Chapter 7


Tags: Sandra Brown Mystery