Behind Closed Doors. Tara Quinn Taylor

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СКАЧАТЬ didn’t use the sliding glass door?” Harry asked, sounding confused.

      Boyd nodded. “But they used a tool that, while common in the window-installation world, isn’t something most guys carry around in their trunks. From the marks on the window, it appears that two four and three-quarter inch double suction cups were used to pull the glass up and the door off the tracks.”

      Made sense. What goes up must come down. What goes in also comes out. The door that’s installed can be uninstalled.

      They were going to have to call a construction company on Monday morning and have the thing replaced. With a heavy wood door that had triple dead bolts. Their wrought iron idea wasn’t good enough.

      Harry had already taken care of the windows, but maybe they could get an extra set of locks on each one. Just in case.

      Because even if they managed to catch these guys, they weren’t the only rapists in the world. There were more of them out there. In Tucson and anyplace else she might decide to move. Rapists were a part of life.

      There was no escaping them.

      Tony Littleton had been home for twenty-four hours before Bobby Donahue had a chance to spend any private time with him. They’d attended a political rally for senatorial candidate George Moss the night before—Tony’s college class assignment—and then Tony had spent the morning with Luke so Bobby could work uninterrupted. The toddler was finally down for his Saturday-afternoon nap and everyone who’d had business with Bobby was gone as well. Bobby and Tony had dinner plans—a small group of like-minded people getting together—but for now it was just the two of them in the living room of the modest house Bobby owned outside Flagstaff.

      Bobby could hardly wait to hear about Tony’s week.

      “So…tell me what’s going on.” he said, hands dangling between his knees as he sat on the edge of the couch, facing Tony.

      Tony’s blush gave him away.

      “So it worked?” Bobby asked with a grin. “The advice I gave you?”

      Tony met his eyes briefly, then looked down, but his smile was unmistakable. Bobby had never been as innocent as this young man, but he could still recognize the signs.

      “I called you Thursday night,” Bobby said, helping his young friend.

      Tony’s blush deepened.

      “You were with her, weren’t you?”

      Tony nodded. Suddenly, he started rambling in a way Bobby would never have done—but found endearing, just the same.

      “You have to see this girl, Bobby,” he said. “When I look at her all I can think about is kissing her. Touching her. Her skin’s so white—like she’s never been out in the sun. And her smile…”

      “You were good to her?” The statement was also a question. Sometimes good men, especially young ones in the throes of about-to-be consummated sexual desire, forgot themselves.

      “Of course!” Tony said, meeting his eyes. “She wanted it worse than I did. She really liked it. She made these noises and squirmed so much I could hardly hold out long enough to pleasure her. It’s like you told me, come together or not at all, and I was determined to do that, but man, it was hard. The night was incredible. It’s all I’ve been able to think about…”

      Bobby considered deferring his next comment—hated to put any kind of a damper on the young man’s joy—but he wasn’t willing to take the risk. “That has to stop.”

      “What?” Tony’s brow furrowed.

      “Obsessing over anything other than our service to God and our cause. Practice the mind exercises I taught you last summer. Put your thoughts on things outside yourself. A man who obsesses over sex goes down a dark and dangerous path.”

      “There was nothing dark or dangerous about this, Bobby, I swear. She’s so sweet and giving and eager. We made each other…happy, you know? Like it felt totally right.”

      “And that’s as it should be,” Bobby said, grinning again. “God gave you the ability to experience those pleasures. But you must never let any earthly pleasures consume you. Too much consumption leads to ruin. Whether it be sex, alcohol, drugs—whatever—you become no more than an addict. You give up control of your mind that way.”

      Opening his mouth, Tony seemed about to argue and then, as Bobby watched, understanding dawned on the young man’s face. He saw the light of peace once again enter Tony’s eyes. “I’d lose sight of what matters most,” he said slowly, meeting Bobby’s gaze with the open intelligence that had first drawn Bobby to him.

      “Right.”

      “Obsession with her might lead me to make wrong choices.”

      “Correct.”

      Tony was silent for a while. Sitting back, Bobby was content to let the young man’s mind wander. Tony’s meanderings often led to thought-provoking conversations that energized Bobby.

      “Did you ever feel that way about Amanda?”

      Bobby’s eagerness diminished, especially in light of the call he’d had from Tucson earlier that day, which had given him hope, then dashed it almost immediately. But because this was Tony and Bobby understood that their friendship was rare and true, he answered.

      “Briefly. When I first met her, I couldn’t get her out of my head.” He chose his words carefully. “But unlike you, I’d been with other women before. And I was older.”

      Frowning, Tony asked, “And then you just told yourself to stop feeling like that and it ended?”

      Bobby held back a laugh. Tony had been a picked-on geek in high school and was particularly sensitive to being a target for humor—even well-meant shared humor.

      “Of course not,” Bobby admitted. “But I knew I had to control my emotions or they’d control me. Whenever I’d get them at inappropriate times, I’d immediately start thinking about something else. At first I had a topic I went to whenever it happened.”

      “The cause.”

      “Yes.

      “And later, I could simply think about anything outside myself and the obsession with Amanda would stop. Don’t misunderstand,” Bobby added, “the feelings never lessened. I adore her as much today as I ever did. I just learned to control the amount I thought about her.”

      Tony shook his head. “I’m not nearly at that level.”

      “Then count colors.”

      “What does that mean?”

      “Wherever you are, pick a color and start counting how many times, on how many different things, you see it in your everyday surroundings. That’ll take your mind off whatever you’re obsessing about and give it back to you.”

      Tony’s expression lightened. “I can do that.”

      “Of course you can.” Bobby almost stopped right there. But this was Tony, and his goal was to be completely СКАЧАТЬ