Too Close To Home - By Maureen Tan Page 0,86

me back away from the edge of the bed. And then he was on top of me. Crushing me. Scrabbling upward over my body to grab my hands, capture my wrists.

He was a big man. Massive.

I knew I couldn’t fight him. Not from this position.

I went limp instead.

That’s when he rolled me over. Held my arms over my head as he straddled my hips. Pinning me to the bed.

I prayed for an opening. Any opening.

He used his free hand to slap me. Hard.

“Where’s Jackie?”

I tasted blood in my mouth. From the inside of my cheek. And I recalled too vividly how Jackie’s face had looked when he’d finished with her.

I tried to buy myself some time.

“Please,” I cried, “I don’t know any Jackie.”

The grip of his massive left hand around my wrists tightened. He slapped me again with his right, then curled his fingers into a fist that he swept just inches from my face. Threatening.

Then he thought of something better.

He shifted slightly, settling his mass onto my thighs.

“I know you’re hiding her,” he said.

He spread his fingers wide, dragged his hand downward past my breasts, down across my belly.

“I’ve really missed Jackie,” he said. “Understand, bitch?”

I ignored the movement of his hand.

Stared up into his violent, evil face.

Then I turned my head, closed my eyes, blinding myself to this human monster as I fought the hysteria that was making it difficult to think.

No matter what was happening, I had to think clearly.

Just like Gran had taught me.

That’s when I heard the high-pitched whine, the sound of Highball’s nails against the uncarpeted floor of the hallway. He was pacing, agitated by a human behavior he didn’t understand.

I made it clear to him.

I screamed, long and loud.

One of Highball’s paws scraped across my trapped legs as he leaped onto the bed. He lunged for Hector’s arm, bit down hard. And held on.

Hector yelled out. Surprised. Terrified. Swung himself off of the bed. Off of me. Moved toward the door as he attempted to escape Highball’s teeth.

I grabbed my gun.

Aimed past my now-empty bed just as Hector shook my dog loose.

Highball landed in a heap on the floor, then sprung back onto all four feet. Growling. Circling in close. Limping, but intent on keeping a predator at bay.

Hector lifted his booted foot, a prelude to kicking my dog.

“Freeze!” I shouted to get Hector’s attention.

He glanced away from Highball, saw the gun, realized that I was a greater threat than the dog. He put his foot down, then stood very still, moving only to follow my unspoken command. The quick upward movement of the tip of my gun prompted him to raise his hands above his head. After that, the only thing that moved was his chest, which heaved up and down, and the thin line of blood that dribbled slowly from the bite mark on his bare shoulder.

Only then did I call Highball over to my side, where he stood with his soft, furry shoulder pressed against my leg. Obedient to my command, but still growling deep in his throat, his tawny-brown eyes fixed on Hector.

I used my free hand to pat my dog’s head as I considered what to do with the man in front of me. Arresting him, charging him with assault and attempted rape, facing him in court…all of that risked exposing the Underground.

Then I thought about shooting him. Point blank.

If I dialed 911, county would respond to my call. My cheek was bruised. As were my wrists. And the back door was broken in. No one would question my decision to defend myself against a rapist. One who targeted a woman living alone in an isolated area, but hadn’t counted on going up against a cop. And her dog.

A tempting solution.

Not a viable one.

I would have unhesitatingly killed Hector to defend Jackie’s life. Or my own. But Jackie was long gone. And I wasn’t a murderer.

That narrowed the options to one.

With Highball as an escort, I walked Hector through the house at gunpoint, angry enough that I didn’t much care that I was still naked. Besides, I didn’t think Hector would stand idly by as I threw on some clothes. I made him open every closet, look under every piece of furniture.

“She’s long gone,” I said finally. “So get over it.”

Then I took him to the back door.

“If I ever see you again, you’re a dead man. Understand?”

He nodded.

I gave him a quick prod with my gun, encouraging him in the direction of the motorcycle I hadn’t heard

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