emergency numbers she’d memorized. On average, a cab arrived within seven minutes at the cottage. She’d timed them. She would head to the fitness club, grab her emergency supplies, and get lost.
Second, she called her lawyer, Ben Knight. When his secretary, Annie, answered, she said one thing, “Rabbit’s on the run,” hung up and got ready to bolt.
“What was that all about?” the officer asked, finally moving toward the door.
“Recurring nightmare.”
“You know, if you help us, we can help you.”
“No offense, but you can’t help me. The man who did this knows how to stay in the shady gray of the law.”
“Like wearing a mask and making this look like a botched robbery.”
“You’re catching on.”
“You should press charges,” he coaxed again.
“My word against his. I’ve filed for restraining orders multiple times and been denied. The anonymous notes could be from anyone, the phone calls all come from disposable phones, and there’s never a witness to any kind of abuse. No judge will side with me against him.”
“He goes to a lot of trouble to keep this thing just between the two of you.”
“It’s personal, and he’s got a lot to lose.”
“Say he did this, a judge will listen.”
“He’s a rich businessman who runs an international company. His face is splashed all over the society pages, the image of a corporate mover and shaker. I divorced him and took a big chunk of his assets with me, and he ruined me in the press, playing me off as the gold-digging whore. Who do you think a judge or jury would believe?”
“With your face looking like that? You.”
“Botched robbery, remember.”
“This is some twisted shit. Excuse the language,” he said, frustrated. She felt for him. He saw this day in and day out. She lived it.
“You have no idea.”
“We’ll follow-up, give him a call, see if we can rattle him into an admission.”
Jenna forced an indulgent smile. “It’s your time to waste.” She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. Tired to the bone, her feet scuffed along the hardwood.
The cab pulled up outside and she rushed into the back seat. “Bayfair Fitness, please. Quickly.”
The police pulled out of the drive and her adrenaline kicked in again. No protection. She turned and checked out each window, making sure he wasn’t coming after her. She couldn’t let her guard down. He might be out there, following her. She had to get away. Fast. Her mind screamed at her, “Hurry! Run! Hurry!”
“Are you all right, lady? You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine. Please, just hurry. I need to get out of here.” Her voice shook and rasped out after all the screaming.
“Looks like someone beat you good.”
Jenna held his gaze in the rearview mirror, unable to think of a single thing to say. She caught sight of her own face and winced. She looked like a wounded animal backed into a corner, shaking, her eyes wide and watchful.
“I hope the other guy looks worse than you do, missy.” She must have indicated she didn’t have the pleasure of beating the other guy bloody because he went on, “The cops’ll get him. You make that bastard pay.” He gave her a stern look.
Jenna wished she could make him pay. One day she would. Right now, she wanted to lie down and go to sleep. Impossible, at least for several more hours. Probably not a good idea anyway with the splitting headache, telling her she had a mild concussion.
Now, the long process of running and finding someplace safe to hide began. Ben, the only person she allowed herself to count on, would help her. That’s what she paid him to do. After all, this was the sixth, no seventh, time she had to run. With all her practice, they had come up with a system. And it worked this last time. Or so they thought.
She never accessed her bank accounts directly. She didn’t use any credit. She had several aliases set up. None of it mattered. Rich and spoiled, he would use all his influence and power to hunt her down for his own sport. No one ever said no to him. Until she stood up to him and dared to say no. The more times she refused him, the worse things got for her.
Those first few times he found her, he sent her pretty gifts and notes, showed up unexpectedly while she was out shopping or eating in a restaurant. The police couldn’t do anything to stop him. Stalking laws were specific—and often inadequate to