Beast in the Tower. Julie Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ blocks, much less back to the heart of downtown. And without the coat she’d left back at the diner, it would be a mighty cold walk home. Maybe Tariq would do her a favor and let her ride for free. But she couldn’t even make that call without another quarter for the phone.

      Her shoulders stiffened with an unconscious bracing that was almost as second nature as breathing. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to find her way home at night. Alone. On foot. She’d spent too many nights out looking for a brother who just couldn’t seem to forgive the world and grow up. “Be there, Matty,” she prayed, scraping the cash back into her pocket and pulling the receiver from her ear. “Please be there.”

      “Operator. May I help you?”

      “What?” Hallelujah! Kit quickly drew the friendly voice back to her ear. “Yes. I have an emergency. Of sorts. I’m at Truman Medical Center, and I need to call home to make sure everyone’s all right. At the very least, I need to call for a ride, but I don’t have the right change. I know it’s late…”

      The operator didn’t need to hear any more excuses. “In the event of an emergency, you can reach the phone company by dialing zero. No charge for a limited call. What number are you trying to reach?”

      Kit recited the number for her apartment, thanked the operator and tapped an anxious foot in time with the ringing of the phone. It was hard to block the unsettling images that were half memory, half imagination. Her waiting at the police station to post bail. Matt turning his back on her and walking away when she wanted to hug him in her arms and keep him close. The three muggers returning to the scene of the crime and breaking into the diner. Meeting Matt on the street. Forcing him to join their little crime spree. Or worse—making him their next victim.

      Kit shifted on her feet, hating how easy it had become to imagine the worst. “C’mon, guys. Pick up.”

      Her home number rang three times. Four.

      A crackle of static buzzed in her ear, and the line went dead.

      “Limited call, my ass.” Kit jiggled the disconnect button, trying to get a dial tone again. “Operator? Op—?”

      Every light on the floor went out, plunging her into darkness. Kit grabbed the edge of the counter, anchoring herself in the sudden, disorienting abyss. “What the heck?”

      Almost instantly, a hum of disembodied voices and quick movement rolled down the hallways from the patients’ rooms. But they sounded far away from the bubble of black silence that engulfed her in the lobby.

      An uneasy fear quickly replaced her frustration. “Hello?”

      She’d welcome any answer from the phone or the nurses’ station. But, blinded by the instant night, Kit didn’t know where to turn. Which distant voice to call to.

      “Where’s that backup?”

      “Ten-second delay.”

      “Check every patient.”

      “Why does this always happen at night?”

      “Critical systems are still online.”

      Kit curled her toes into her boots, staying put out of the staff’s way. She clutched the dead receiver to her chest and held on, counting off an eternity until those ten seconds passed and the backup generators kicked on.

      …two one-thousand, three one-thousand…

      A breeze swept across the back of her neck, raising goose bumps beneath her ponytail. Someone was right here.

      Before she could turn around, a gloved hand clamped over her mouth. In the same instant a strong arm looped around her waist and dragged her back against an unyielding chest. Kit screamed behind the muzzle and twisted in her assailant’s grasp.

      “Shh. Be still,” a deep voice grated against her ear.

      Still? Like hell.

      Kit threw down the phone and clawed at the glove. The leather was soft, supple, warm. But the hand inside wouldn’t budge. Protests rang inside her ears but found no outlet. Had the mugger in the Chiefs parka followed her to the hospital? Was this surprise attack his way of keeping her from saying anything to the police?

      Man, had he picked the wrong cookie to mess with.

      She kicked at an instep, braced her foot against the wall and tried to shove him off balance. His arm slipped, then grabbed again, hooking beneath the swell of her breasts. When he fought to regain his hold on her, he palmed one feminine mound and squeezed. Even through layers of a sweater and glove, Kit lurched at the contact, alarmed as heat bloomed beneath his way too personal grasp. The man cursed and jerked his hand away. A surer grip tightened around her jaw, stifling any cry for help. Then, just as she thought she might wiggle her way free, the vise of hard arm and harder body lifted her clear off the floor. He carried her forward a step, pinning her between the counter and the wall of his chest.

      “I said be still.” The lips that brushed the warning against her neck startled her into silence as much as the man’s alarming strength did. His hips cupped her bottom, his thighs pressed into hers. His moist breath burned a path behind the shell of her ear. Kit held her breath. Oh, God. What did he want from her? What did he— “I won’t hurt you,” the gravelly voice promised. “I just need you to listen.”

      Understanding the unspoken bargain that cooperation was her best deterrent against more unwanted gropes and her only chance at freedom, Kit nodded.

      Suspended in the darkness, deprived of sight, Kit could do little but absorb the impressions of heat and masculinity that bombarded her senses. He wasn’t the same man who’d attacked Helen. There was no trace of an accent in his unusual voice. He wore a tailored leather coat, not a parka. He was too tall to be the mugger’s sidekick. And while he could have been the third man who’d thrown her up against the wall, she was beginning to think this guy had a different purpose beyond intimidation. The men in the alley had been more than willing to hurt her. And though there was something disturbingly intimate about being pressed shoulder-to-thigh against a stranger in the darkness, this man made no effort to take advantage of her vulnerable position.

      That wasn’t the only detail she noticed.

      With every deepening breath, Kit inhaled medicinal soap and leather, along with the odd scent of roses. Though shadowy in form, there was no mistaking the reality and substance of this man. He was lanky. Long-limbed. Solid. The crisp chill of winter clung to his coat, but his mouth radiated a heat against her skin that was dangerously enticing. The beeps of distant monitors chirped in the distance, but it was the gravelly husk of his low-pitched whisper that commanded her attention.

      “Thank you for taking care of Helen.”

      Helen? He knew Helen? Kit mumbled the question against his hand.

      “I will repay my debt to you.”

      Her toes touched the floor as he released his grip on her. Kit sucked in a deep breath and worked the stiffness from her jaw. “What debt? Who—”

      “No. Don’t turn around.” A large palm at the center of her back seared her to the bone. The heat of that firm, commanding touch was enough to hold her in place. “Don’t.”

      Kit pressed her lips together and peered straight СКАЧАТЬ