Trust Me (Last Stand #1)(53)
Author: Brenda Novak

It was time to make another concerted effort to resist the changes Burke had caused in her. Sometimes, she didn’t even realize she was backsliding. But she realized it now and was officially searching for love and companionship. When she got out of the tub, she planned to forgo the weight training and aerobic exercise that normally ended her day in favor of searching the Internet for new ways to do her hair and makeup. Maybe she’d even check out an Internet dating service. One had to be careful about meeting men online, but it was the easiest way to begin. Initially, she’d feel safer shielded by an e-mail address. If she ever met anyone in cyberspace she wanted to know better, she’d do a complete background check first. Then she’d arrange lunch in a public place.

Despite how hard she’d fought it, the fact that she was finally broadening her horizons came as a relief. Skye didn’t know how she’d survived being so isolated and alone for the past three years—and found it ironic that she was planning to break out of her shell on the very day of Burke’s release. His impact on her life had been so all-encompassing it was as if he’d established a whole new reckoning of time. Anything that happened before the attack was B.B.—Before Burke; anything that happened afterward was A.B.—After Burke.

All carefree dating and romantic relationships had definitely happened B.B. But Burke was free to start over now. She should be, too.

Turning the tap back on to bring the temperature of the water up a few more degrees, she leaned her head on the rim of the tub and listened to Chris Daughtry’s new song.

What jewelry should she wear with her new dress? she wondered, watching steam fill the bathroom. But before she could consider the possibilities, she heard something, felt a strange vibration, that made her tense and sit up.

She’d locked all points of entry into the house. She knew that because she’d checked them twice. She’d also set the alarm, which hadn’t sounded. So why was she suddenly feeling as if she was no longer alone?

Turning off the water, she pulled the headphones from her ears. Besides the tinny sound of distant music, there wasn’t any noise. But she was fairly sure she could smell cigarette smoke.

Was it her imagination—the old panic coming back? She didn’t think so….

“Jasmine? Sheridan?” she called.

They were the only people who had a key to her house. She’d given them each one in case she ever locked herself out.

But Jasmine and Sheridan didn’t smoke.

They didn’t answer, either.

Standing, she switched off her iPod and listened intently. The wind was blowing outside, whistling through the eaves, but she couldn’t hear anything else. Except her own heart…

Stepping onto the bath mat, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly around her. She normally kept a gun close at hand. She had one in her nightstand, her purse and the hall closet. But not in the bathroom. Here she was cornered, especially since the only window was a narrow rectangle above her head. Even if she could figure out how to break the thick glass, she had no way of boosting herself through.

Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply through her nose, trying to determine if she was really smelling cigarette smoke.

Yes—she was sure of it. Smoke. Or someone who smoked. And it was as real as the plink, plink of water that suddenly dripped from the faucet.

Skye’s fingers tightened on her towel. None of her friends were smokers. Jasmine used smoked as a teenager, back when she was hitchhiking across the country to escape the small town where she’d been raised. But that was years ago.

Hoping to reach the bedroom and the gun she had there, Skye edged closer to the door. The floor creaked beneath her feet, stretching her nerves taut, but she forced herself to keep moving. Think. Act. She wasn’t as vulnerable as she used to be. All the training she’d had—and tried to pass on to others—had to make a difference.

I’m prepared for this, she told herself. I’ve been expecting it. But her body didn’t want to cooperate. She was shaking so violently, it was a struggle just to keep from cowering in a corner.

Not again, her mind screamed. I can’t do it. But she knew she could if she had to. She’d done it before. Besides, she’d wanted Burke to make his move soon, right? To spare her the agony of waiting and wondering?

Maybe she was getting that wish….

Opening the door a crack, she eyed the hallway. She couldn’t see anyone, but she heard the slight rustle of movement. Where? In the kitchen? She sensed whoever it was creeping through the house, slowly, methodically. But he was so damn quiet. And how had he disabled her alarm? Probably quite easily. All he had to do was snip a wire. She lived too far out for monitoring.

Slipping into the hallway, she hurried to her bedroom, where she recovered her gun from the nightstand.

14

Skye didn’t want to be caught in a towel. Being naked made her feel vulnerable, even when she was holding a gun. So she set the weapon on her dresser and put on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. There was no time for shoes. Or a call to the police. It would all be over before they could reach her, anyway. Trying to remain calm, which wasn’t easy, she poked her head back into the hallway.

Silence. She wasn’t sure anymore that she’d ever smelled smoke. It was tempting to believe she’d imagined everything. Until she crept down the hall to the front entry and saw the cigarette butt discarded by the coat rack. The front door stood ajar, letting the wind rush through.

How’d he unlock the door? She’d used the dead bolt. But she was too frightened to work out the logistics. There was no question now. She’d been right all along. She had a visitor.

The wind was intermittently stirring the drapes and the papers on the table, and she had no idea if that was what she’d heard earlier or not. He could be anywhere….

With her back to the wall, Skye peered cautiously around the corner, into the living room. She had to find him before he found her. But she wasn’t expecting him to be behind her. From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of movement as someone stepped out of the bathroom she’d vacated only minutes before. Then there was a deafening blast and a bullet whizzed past her head. She had a fraction of a second. No chance to aim. Crouching and turning at the same time, she fired just as he squeezed off a second round.

His bullet missed and buried itself in the wall behind her. Skye’s didn’t. It pierced the intruder’s chest. After that, he didn’t even last long enough to gasp and gurgle like gunshot victims on TV. His jaw dropped briefly, he glanced down at the wound and he crumpled.