Eye of the Abductor (6 page)

Stop this! This man is off limits.
Even in your dreams.

“Good morning,” she said loud
enough he turned around. “You should’ve woken me. Is there anything I can do to
help?”

“No. I took the liberty of buying
a new thermostat. I almost have it in.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“Not much. The receipt is in my
jeep. Of course you could buy me breakfast, and we’ll call it even.”

Though Allison knew paying him the
damn money and being done with it was what she should do, she chose to do the
not-so-wise thing. “Sure. Is I-Hop okay?”

“That’ll work.” He threw his tools
into a box. “Let me wash up and change shirts. We'll take your car and try it
out.”

“Sure. Knock on my door when
you’re ready.”

At the restaurant, a hostess
escorted them to a table. Allison stared at the menu unable to focus. The sex
dream still had her flustered and
embarrassed
.

The waitress came over to take
their orders.

“I’ll have a fruit cup,” Allison
said, knowing it was the cheapest thing on the menu.

Brance reached over and snatched
the menu away from her. “Oh, no you don’t. You can’t come to a place like this
and just order a fruit cup.”

"I’ve already had breakfast,”
she lied, not wanting to chance being short on cash. But the incredible aroma
of bacon and coffee made her stomach tighten with hunger pangs.

“In that case, I’ll eat enough for
both of us. I’ll have the Breakfast Sampler.”

He would order one of the biggest
and most expensive plates on the menu.

Keeping her purse on the seat
beside her, she thumbed through her billfold and recounted the money she’d
brought. She thought about canceling her order but didn’t.

Please let it be enough.

“Allison, my mom suggested you
might be recovering from a divorce or recently widowed. I’m sorry if I came on
too strong. The first time you told me you didn’t want to date, I should’ve
listened.”

“I’m divorced but not recently.”

“Does your ex live here?”

“No, he’s deceased. He died
shortly after our divorce.”

“From your dislike of cops, can I
assume he was one?”

She didn’t intend to let him
interrogate her any longer and stood. “I’m going to the restroom,” she said,
ignoring his question. “I’ll be right back.”

She rounded the corner and
stopped. Her ex-in-laws sat in a back booth with Nathan in a booster seat
beside Dorothy.

Allison’s heart rate surged. She
quickly darted behind the wooden divider with artificial plants on top. Had
Dorothy seen her? Obviously not, because the witch kept eating.

She couldn’t chance going to the
restroom. Though her appearance had been altered a great deal, Dorothy would
zone in on her like an eagle after a mouse. The ultimate predator.

Unable to tear herself away,
Allison peered through the silk leaves and greenery.

The joy of seeing Nathan exploded
in her brain like Fourth of July fireworks. She forced herself to return to the
table where Brance sat. It required a few moments to come off the high from
seeing her son.

“You all right?” he asked. “You
look flushed.”

“I’m fine.” Rather than give him a
chance to start with the questions, she decided to turn the tables on him. “Are
you divorced?”

“No. I’ve never been married.”

“Never?”

“Does being engaged count?”

“No. Why didn’t you marry her?”

“It sounds too much like a daytime
soap.”

“Now I have to know.”

“Okay. Long story short. She
dumped me and married my brother.”

Allison’s mouth dropped. She
thought of how awkward it must be at family events to come face to face with
one’s ex-fiancée and brother.

“Right off the Jerry Springer
lineup,” she teased. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Don’t be. It’s true.”

When the waitress brought the
food, Allison stared at Brance’s plate that came with two of everything
-
eggs, sausage links, bacon strips, ham slices, hash
browns, and a stack of pancakes. “Wow! Think you can eat all of that and still
walk out of here?”

“No, so you'll have to help eat
it.” He requested another plate and piled half the food on it, then slid it
across to her.

“Do you see your ex-fiancée very
often?”

“Carla? Yeah. Almost every week
and at holiday dinners.”

“Isn’t it uncomfortable?”

“It was at first, and I was a bad
sport.”

“So is that why you’re a player
now?”

“Player?” He glanced up from his
food. “You sound like my grandmother. I don’t consider myself one.”

“You qualify.”

“You keeping count?”

Her cheeks warmed. “No. It’s just
hard to ignore.”

A dazzling smile spread across his
face—one that promised erotic pleasure. “I like to make the ladies happy.”

From the sounds of it, I bet
you do.

 “Have you dated anyone since your
divorce?”

“That’s too personal.” She blotted
her mouth with the napkin and set her fork down.

"Totally unfair. I've told
you my life history." From the glint in his eyes, he’d already made the
correct assumption. “You should date. You might find the right guy the second
time around.”

Rather than be appalled by his
intrusion, she smiled and again turned the tables on him. “Is that what you’re
doing? Looking for Mrs. Right?”

He laughed. “Not hardly.” He
pushed his plate back and gazed into her eyes. “I thought I might’ve found
someone. Even sent her roses, but she returned them.”

“I’m not cut out to be anyone’s
Mrs. Right.” Her attention settled on Bill and Dorothy as they were leaving.
She doubted they would glance in her direction. Still, she tensed.

“What’s wrong?” He turned to see
what had caught her eye.

She couldn’t respond as she soaked
in the sight of her little boy being carried out in his grandfather’s arms.

“Thought I saw someone I know. But
it wasn’t them."

Living in the same town created a
chance of running head-on into Dorothy. And if that happened, she’d forge ahead
with Plan A and go to court for custody. But she’d rather have all her ducks in
a row and go for the kill. A surprise attack would work more in her favor.

While Brance finished off his last
sip of coffee, the waitress returned and set the ticket beside him.

“Pass it over,” she demanded.

“Tell you what. I’ll pick up
…
”

“No,” she said, interrupting him.
“We had a deal.”

He slid the ticket over. After
staring at the total amount and calculating the gratuity, she pulled the money
from her billfold. She left three dollars on the table for the waitress.

“Thanks for breakfast."

“You have no idea how grateful I
am for you fixing my car.” She stood and walked toward the cash register.

Outside, he opened her car door.
“Now see, it’s not too painful being friends.”

“Painful is an understatement.
Your date cost me my job.”

“You dumped ice water on her.”

“If she’d been standing, I’d have
slugged her. What a bitch!”

“Now that’s an understatement.”

They both laughed. He’d be shocked
to know she’d slugged her share of women. She’d been in prison, not a prep school.

At the apartments, she pulled into
the spot next to his Crown Victoria. Before she realized what he was doing, he
placed his hand over hers. Male heat filled the car. Every breath held his
virile scent. Sexual impulses rippled through her lower abdomen.

She wanted to snatch her hand back
but couldn’t. Thank goodness he didn't know the effect he had on her. She
thought about where his hands had been in her dream and almost climaxed. Heat
spread through her like a brushfire. She had to escape.
Now!

“Remember what I said, call me if
you need help.”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that.” She
slipped her hand from beneath his and opened the door.

Once inside her apartment, Allison
closed her eyes for a moment, fighting desire and need. Lord help her. The man
made her dizzy. As she recalled each vivid detail of the dream, her body burned
even more. She couldn’t let Brance into her life and certainly not into her
bed. Now she had to figure out a way to keep him out of her dreams.

***

Sitting in the choir room Wednesday
night, Allison pushed stop on the tape recorder and stuffed the sheet music
into her folder. She liked recording the sessions to practice with. After
putting her folder away, she grabbed her purse and left.

Because the parking lot closest to
the choir room had been crowded for a special youth event, she’d parked on the
far side and cut through the building. At the exit door, she realized she’d
left her tape recorder and headed back to the choir room. The long hall joining
the old section to the newest addition stood deserted and dark.

An eerie sensation traveled up her
spine. She scolded herself for being afraid.

By the time she reached the choir
room, she’d broken out into a cold sweat. She flipped the light switch and
entered the large room. The tape recorder sat where she’d left it. She dropped
it in her purse and left again, turning the lights off behind her.

Allison hesitated and considered
going outside and walking around the outer building to her car. Knowing it’d
take longer, she forced herself to trudge back through the building. Halfway
down the hall, she heard footfalls and stopped to glance back.

Darkness.

Silence.

A silhouette of a person took
shape.

“Rick, is that you?”

No one answered.

Maybe it wasn’t a person. An
object perhaps.

Allison turned and briskly walked
the length of the hall. Rather than go up the stairs, she hid under the dark
stairwell. Her heart accelerated rapidly as someone approached. It hadn’t been
her imagination.

The person went up the stairs,
giving her the opportunity to dart down another dark hall and exit through a
side door.

Keeping an eye on her
surroundings, she raced to her car. Once inside, she locked the doors and drew
a deep, shaky breath. Her hands trembled as she gripped the steering wheel. Had
the person been after her? Surely not. How would someone know she’d need to
return for her tape recorder?

She had to stop letting fear get
the best of her. More than likely, it'd been a member of the church or a mischievous
teenager. She started her engine and drove home.

***

Brance entered through the back
door without knocking and smiled at his mom. "Sorry, I'm late."

"Well, so is dinner. It'll be
a few minutes." His mother stood by the stove. “The others are watching
the game.”

His stomach muscles tightened as he
entered the den. When had he started dreading seeing his dad and brothers? Did
it have to do with Carla? Maybe.

His father, brothers, and two
sister-in-laws glanced up. His dad gave him
the look
he’d always given
him.

Disappointment. Disgust. He’d
never been able to pinpoint what the solemn expression meant. But it sure in
hell wasn’t the warm glow that lit his dad’s face when Colby or Dillon entered
a room.

“Game's in the last quarter,” his
father said.

“Steelers lead by ten points,”
Colby added.

Brance took the only available
seat next to Carla. Hands clasped, he sat upon the edge of the plaid sofa and
leaned forward, watching the game.

“You’re blocking my view,” Carla
complained.

“Sorry.” He leaned back. Her thigh
touched his, and he wanted to bolt. He didn’t like sitting so close to her. Not
that he had any feelings for her, he didn’t. His shattered pride had mended.
Though he still got pissed at the thought of their betrayal.

“You’ve changed colognes,” she
commented.

“Yep.”

“Don’t hit on my wife,” Dillon
said, grinning.

“No problem there.”

When the Steelers scored another
touchdown, Colby yelled in delight and came out of his chair. “Damn, that’s
sweet.”

Dillon scowled and ran his hand
over his very short blonde hair. "They screwed that play."

Colby laughed. “Dillon has money
riding on the Cowboys.” He glanced at Brance. “You bet anything on this game?”

He shook his head. “Nope, got
better things to do with my money.”

“Good thing,” Dillon said. “He’s a
sore loser.”