Only the big man’s arms kept her from crumpling to the floor.
“There you go. Now you figured it out. I knew you weren’t stupid, Lily.”
His voice lingered over her name, sending chills down her spine.
“You be hearin’ something very soon. Then you’ll understand how serious my boss really is.”
The Cajun backed toward the door. “Take care of her,” he ordered the man holding her.
The tall man released his tight hold and grabbed her wrist. She barely had time for a breath and a fleeting glimpse of his profile before he flipped the afghan from her couch up and over her head.
He spun her around a few times until she stumbled dizzily. Then he lifted her in his arms.
“Don’t mess with these people,” he whispered. “Do what he said.” He knelt and set her gently on the floor, then pushed her. She slid across the hardwood and hit the wall.
Kicking and struggling, she tore at the fuzzy material that blanketed her. Her limbs were weak with fear. She was shaking so badly she couldn’t catch hold of the afghan. She sucked in a deep breath, and lint and dust choked her. She coughed, then moaned at the pain in her throat.
Her front door slammed.
Finally she fought her way free of the tangle of knots and yarn. For an instant she crouched there against the wall, hugging the afghan to her chest. Were they really gone?
She held her breath and listened. Silence. She looked around. The apartment was dark. It felt empty.
Barely daring to breathe, she tried to push herself to her feet, but her knees gave way. She collapsed back to the floor, her sore throat contracting around the sobs that erupted from her chest.
She gave up trying to stand and crawled over to her couch, expecting at any moment to be grabbed again. She switched on the lamp with shaky fingers.
Nothing. They were gone.
She huddled in the corner of the couch, hugging her knees to her chest, unable to stop shivering. She was chilled to the bone, although it was September and still summertime-hot in Biloxi, Mississippi.
She didn’t know how long she sat there staring at the front door, terrified they’d return. Sick with the knowledge that they knew where she lived.
Still afraid to trust her trembling legs, she crawled over to the door and reached up to throw the dead bolt. The useless gesture was almost funny. They’d gotten into her apartment once. They could do it again. They could come back any time they wanted.
She pulled herself to her feet, her body aching with tension, her head woozy with fear. Leaning against her kitchen counter, she chafed her sore arms. Her throat and jaw hurt. She couldn’t stop trembling.
What was she going to do? They’d threatened her. Threatened her father.
Dad! The little Cajun hadn’t said anything specific, but his implication sent icy fear surging through her veins. His boss had chosen her because she was alone and vulnerable—and so was her father.
She had to check on him. Carefully she walked over to the couch. Where was the phone? It had been knocked onto the floor when she’d bumped her head on the end table. It was halfway across the room.
She moved unsteadily toward it as pain shot through her shoulders. The man who’d held her had been strong. Thank God he wasn’t as cruel as the Cajun.
Just as she touched the handset, it rang.
She jerked away with a startled cry and covered her mouth with both hands to keep from screaming.
It rang again. Her temples throbbed. Her heart raced. She forced herself to pick it up.
“Ms. Raines? This is Mary Bankston, night supervisor at Beachside Manor.”
Horror clutched at her chest. No, please!
“Ms. Bank—” Her voice wouldn’t work. She swallowed painfully and tried again. “Ms. Bankston. What’s wrong?”
“Don’t worry. Your father is fine. But I need to let you know that there was a small incident a few minutes ago. Somehow, some papers in the trash can in your father’s room caught fire. The nurse on duty put them out immediately, and made sure your father wasn’t injured. I can’t imagine how he managed to get matches or light a fire. But it’s all under control now.”
Lily’s hand cramped around the phone. “You’re sure? You’re sure he’s okay? I can be there in twenty minutes.”
“I don’t think he even realizes anything happened. You certainly don’t need to drive over here—”
“Yes. Yes, I do.” She hung up the phone, old, familiar guilt squeezing her chest.
Her father, a cop, had once been so vital, so big and strong, so courageous. But a gunshot to the head during a liquor store robbery had turned him into a bewildered, docile shell of the man who’d raised her.
He’d survived the shooting, but the loving father who had taught her right from wrong, who’d stressed the importance of truth and justice, was gone.
Unable to speak and barely able to understand rudimentary conversation, Joe Raines seemed to look forward to her visits, but the times were fewer and fewer that his brown eyes lit up with recognition.
The intruder’s Cajun twang echoed in her ears. You be hearin’ something very soon.
Bile burned her throat and nausea made her double over. They’d made their point. They’d already gotten to her father.
Suddenly her head spun and acrid saliva filled her mouth. She stumbled into the bathroom, making it just in time.
Collapsing onto the cold tile floor, she bent her head over the toilet, giving in to the spasms. She gagged and coughed until there was nothing left inside her.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she flopped back against the wall and wiped her face with unsteady fingers. For a few moments she just cried. She was so scared. So tired.
It was amazing how fragile humans were. And how fast hope could turn to despair. In an instant, everything could change.
About the same time as her father was shot, she’d found out her husband was cheating on her. He’d always been controlling, but she believed in marriage, so she’d tried desperately to make hers work.
He’d asked for a divorce and moved out.
Then, because of the time she had to devote to caring for her father, her fledgling interior design business had suffered.
Still, she’d survived. She’d started over, like so many others.
Then, just last week, she’d begun negotiations to design the interior of a new high-rise being built in Biloxi. She’d started feeling hopeful once again. Strong and safe.
