Jan Springer: In Her Bed

Yeah, right.

She forced herself to steady her breathing. Forced herself to stay calm. What if someone had opened the front door? Maybe that was the squeak she’d heard? Maybe an intruder had heard it, too, and decided to find another way into her home?

Elizabeth swallowed and listened. The rain continued to patter, and her eyes widened with icy shivers of horror that slashed through her as a shadow passed the window.

Oh damn! It was nights like these she wished she didn’t live alone so far from town or from her nearest neighbor. Someone was out there, and they weren’t knocking. That meant only one thing. Bad news for her.

Cold adrenaline rocked her, and she grabbed the gun she kept nestled on top of the nearby coffee table. In a flash, she scurried off the couch and shivered as the icy night air blasted against her thin nightgown.

Quickly, she went to the window where she’d seen the shadow pass. Moving the lace curtain slightly aside, she peered out. The green glow of the aurora borealis shimmered in the night sky, illuminating her yard, but nothing moved.

Suddenly Elizabeth wished for the old days. Days before the Catastrophe when a quick call to 911 would deliver the help she needed. But the Catastrophe had screwed everything. Solar flares had disintegrated most of her family and friends and fried all the electrical grids worldwide. There were no phone connections around these parts. No 911. No help. She was totally on her own. She should have been used to this new way of life by now. She wasn’t.

Trembling, she clutched the gun tighter in the palm of her hand and made her way into the adjoining kitchen and into the hall foyer. She froze as another volley of icy shivers paralyzed her. The front door stood wide open.

Oh my God!

Someone was in her house. She needed to run as fast as she could. Knowing it would be very cold outside and she would have trouble scrambling over the rocky terrain in her bare feet, she thought about grabbing her shoes and coat, but she couldn’t remember where she’d put them. No use looking. She’d waste precious time. She’d take her chances outdoors.

She had to get out. Now. She almost did that. Almost bolted out the open doorway, but someone suddenly appeared there.

Panic took hold. Forgetting the gun in her hand, she turned and ran back down the hallway, through the kitchen, and past the living room. She’d dive out the window. That was what she’d do. No, she couldn’t do that. She’d cut herself with the broken glass. She’d have to go out the back door.

Her heart smashed against her chest as the man shouted at her from behind. Something about him not going to hurt her.

Yeah, right. She wasn’t in the mood to be kept alive while someone sawed off her arms and legs, one at a time, and made shish kebabs of her body parts and ate them right in front of her. She’d heard stories of that happening. People were scared and hungry since the Catastrophe, and they were literally eating each other in order to survive. She’d even cauterized a woman’s arm after the woman had escaped the thugs who’d been keeping her just so they could eat her.

Or worse, since she was a doctor, he might be here to kidnap her and force her to keep his victims alive. Maybe even force her to do the amputations and then treat them in order to keep their food sources alive for as long as possible.

Oh my God, she was being morbid. She needed to ditch these hideous thoughts before she started screaming. Rushing to the back door, she fumbled with the lock. That’s when she remembered the gun in her hand.

Sweet mercy! Was she an idiot or what? In her panic, she’d forgotten the gun. Shoot him. Turn around and shoot.

She ignored that idea, preferring to escape. Maybe she could get out and no one would get hurt. She could run to her closest neighbor, Teyla Sutton. Teyla had three men living with her. They would help her.

Allowing a panicked sob to escape, she opened the door and screamed with shock as a tall man stood there, his face hidden in darkness. She was trapped!

She screamed again as someone grabbed her from behind. An arm snapped around her waist like a steel band. Her finger tightened on the trigger, and the gun went off. Her captor wrenched the gun away from her.

Stupid woman. You should have killed the bastards the moment you saw them.

Panic slashed through her like a meat cleaver, making her breathless as her feet left the floor. He carried her back down the hallway. She kept screaming. She couldn’t help it.

They were going to kill her. Or rape her. Or worse!

She realized the other man, the one in the back doorway, had disappeared. Maybe she’d hit him when the gun had gone off? Maybe she could still escape?

She began kicking at the guy holding her captive. She hit somewhere solid. His grip loosened. She used her elbows and found more solid flesh. A couple of loud oomphs encouraged her to keep fighting. Without warning, he let go of her, and she was sailing through the air. She fell onto the couch, the one she’d been sleeping on. The sagging springs creaked as she hit them hard. Then, he flew on top of her, his big body crushing her beneath his heavy weight, pinning her. She tried to scream, realized she still was screaming.

A cold hand clamped over her mouth, and for some unexplainable reason she stopped screaming. An eerie silence followed, and she stopped struggling, realizing screaming was wasting precious energy.

Her captor was breathing hard. They were both breathing hard. She tensed as a familiar voice, one etched with humor, whispered into her ear. “Hey, Brandy, we’ve missed you.”

Relief, lightning quick, sliced through her.

It was Landon Leigh.

Liz swallowed as a hot flush of warmth splashed through her. Brandy. That was Landon’s nickname for her.

Suddenly she became aware of his every hard, heated muscle as he pressed against her flesh. Noticed the powerful grip of his thighs wrapped around her legs. The strong arms that held her wrists prevented her from hitting him as anger slashed through her. The bastard had nerve, scaring her the way he had. She was about to cut into him with a volley of curses when his next words stopped her cold.

“We need your services,” he said.

Her services? Elizabeth blinked in stunned disbelief and tried to still her racing thoughts. Hell, who was she kidding? She couldn’t even form a thought. All she knew was she needed to get away from Landon, because she suspected she knew who the other man standing at the back door would be. She knew why they’d come here.

A slow, erotic tremble began to shift through her body. Oh yes, she needed to escape.

“There’s three wounded,” Landon whispered.

He lifted his hand from her mouth, and her first instinct was to start screaming again because she was that pumped with adrenaline. He moved off her, and she could see a silhouette of another man standing nearby.

“Long time, no see, Doc,” that man said in a steely voice that, despite it sounding icy and angry, smoothed over her trembling body like hot liquid fire.

It was Ethan Durango. Her ex-fiance. Son of a bitch! She should have recognized him. Should have recognized both of them. But she’d been too scared. Or maybe deep down she’d known all along who they were and why they’d come?

She bolted from the couch before she even realized she was doing it. How dare they scare her so badly? How bloody well dare they!

Fully intending to slap Durango silly, she raised her arm, but he was faster. Durango was always faster. He grabbed her wrist, his fingers digging into her flesh like steel bands.

“Uh-uh. No slapping, Doc. I’m the only one allowed to do that, remember?” His sultry voice sent tremors coursing through her. She knew what he meant. He enjoyed slapping her ass. Spanking her until she blushed before he took her.