shorts he pulled them on, then began moving fast out of his bedroom, across the sitting room and through the front door, where he paused to look around for some clue as to where the cries had come from.
It was pitch black outside and whisper-quiet; nothing stirred—even the ocean was struggling to make a sound as it lapped the shore. Peering out towards the sea, he was half expecting to see someone in difficulties out there, but no flailing silhouette broke the moon-dusted surface. The cries had been close—much closer to house than the water.
Then it came again, and even as he swung round to face Eve’s beach house he saw the shadowy figure of a man slink down the veranda steps.
Eve was the screamer. His heart began to thump. ‘Hey—!’ he called out, startling the figure to a standstill halfway down the veranda steps. It was too dark to get a clear look at him but Ethan had his suspicions. He sure did have those, he thought grimly, as he began striding towards the boundary wall that separated the two properties. The name Aidan Galloway was burning like a light bulb inside his head. ‘What the hell is going on?’ he demanded, only to prompt the other man to turn and make a sudden run for it.
His skin began to crawl with a sense that something was really wrong here. People didn’t run unless they had a reason to. Thinking no further than that, he gave chase, sprinting across the dry spongy grass and vaulting the wall without even noticing. Within seconds the figure had disappeared around the corner of Eve’s beach house. By the time Ethan rounded that corner all he saw were the red tail-lights of a car taking off up the narrow lane which gave access to the beach from the road above.
On a soft curse he then turned his thoughts to Eve. Spinning about, he stepped onto her veranda and began striding along its cool tiled surface until he came to the door. It was swinging wide on its hinges and he stepped warily through it into complete darkness.
‘Eve—?’ he called out. ‘Are you all right?’
He received no answer.
‘Eve—!’ he called again, more sharply this time.
Still no reply came back at him. He had never been in here before so he had to strain his eyes to pick out the shapes of walls and pieces of furniture as he began moving forwards. He bumped into something hard, found himself automatically reaching out to steady a table lamp by its shade and had the foresight to switch it on. Light suddenly illuminated a floor plan that was much the same as his own. He was standing in the sitting room surrounded by soft-cushioned cane furniture; there was an open-plan kitchen in one corner and two doors which had to lead to a bathroom and the only bedroom.
‘Eve?’ he called out again as he wove through the cane furniture to get to the other two doors. One was slightly ajar; warily he lifted a hand and widened the opening enough to allow light to seep into the darkened room.
What he saw brought him to a dead standstill. The room looked like a disaster area, with Eve sitting in the middle of it like a discarded piece of the debris. Lamp light shone onto her down-bent head and her hair was all over the place, forming a tumbling screen of silk that completely hid her face. She was hugging herself, slender arms crossed over her body, long fingers curled like talons around the back of her neck. The tattered remains of the hot-pink dress lay in a crumpled huddle beside her on the floor.
‘God in heaven,’ he breathed, feeling his heart drop to his stomach when he realised what had clearly been going on here.
‘Go away,’ she told him, the whimpered little command almost choked through a throat full with tears.
Grimly ignoring the command, Ethan walked forward, face honed into the kind of mask that would have scared the life out of Eve if she’d glanced up and seen it. He came to squat down in front of her. He might not be able to see her face but he could feel her distress pulsing out towards him.
‘Are you hurt?’ he asked gruffly, reaching out with a hand to lightly touch her hair.
Her response was stunning. In a single violent movement she rose to her feet, spun her back to him, then began trembling as her battle with tears began to be lost.
Ethan took his time in rising to his full height and trying to decide what his next move should be. It was as clear as day that some sort of assault had taken place here, that Eve was shocked and distressed and maybe—
‘I hate you, do you know that?’ she choked out suddenly. ‘I really—really hate you for coming in here like this!’
‘I heard a scream, came out to investigate and saw someone leaving here,’ he felt compelled to explain. ‘There was something in the way he moved that made me—Eve—’ he changed tack anxiously ‘—you’re shaking so badly you look like you’re going to collapse. Let me—’
‘Don’t touch me,’ she breathed, then quite suddenly her legs gave away on her and she sank, folding like a piece of limp rubber down onto the edge of the rumpled bed.
Standing there, Ethan was uncertain as to what to do next. She didn’t want him near her, she wanted him to go, but there was no way he could do that without making sure she was fit to be left on her own. His eyes fell on the hot-pink dress, then the scrappy pink bra lying beside it. His skin began to crawl again in response to the horror that was painting itself into his head. The evidence suggested rape, or at the very least a bungled attempt.
A thrust of bloody anger had him bending down to scoop up a white cotton sheet from the tangle of bedding on the floor, then carefully draping the sheet around her trembling frame. It wasn’t that she was naked, because he’d noticed the pair of pink panties when she’d risen to her feet. But, as for the rest…His teeth clenched together as he lowered himself into a squatting position in front of her again.
She was clutching the sheet now, face still hidden, hunched shoulders trembling like mad. ‘What happened here, Eve?’ he questioned grimly.
‘What do you think?’ she shot back on a bitter choke. ‘I suppose you think I deserved it!’
‘No,’ he denied that.
‘Liar.’ She sobbed and lifted the sheet up to use it to cover her face.
‘Eve—nobody of sane mind would believe a woman deserves what appears to have happened here,’ he insisted soberly.
‘I’m drunk,’ she admitted.
He could smell the alcohol.
‘It was all my fault.’
‘No,’ he said again, his hands hanging limp between his spread thighs, though they desperately wanted to reach out and touch her.
‘I can’t feel my legs. I don’t even know how I got here. I think he spiked my last drink.’
‘Possibly,’ Ethan quietly agreed, willing to feed her answering remarks if it helped him to understand just what had happened here.
She moved at last, rubbing the sheet over her face then slowly lowering it so he could get his first look at it. Her lips were swollen and he could see chafe marks from a man’s rough beard. His jaw became a solid piece of rock as he noticed other things and tried to keep that knowledge off his face.
Maybe she saw something—he wasn’t sure, but she released the sheet and rubbed trembling fingers over the side of her neck, then lifted the fingers higher to push back her hair and clutched at her head as she began
