Loree Lough - Once a Marine

During a break on the day he’d testified against Samuels, she’d overheard O’Toole on the phone, assuring his wife that he’d give serious thought to a promotion that would take him off the streets and keep him safely behind a desk.

“Did you accept that promotion you were up for?”

“You bet I did. Took some getting used to, but the wife and I both sleep better.”

After another moment of small talk and a final reminder for her to call him anytime she felt the need to, they wished each other well and hung up. It was nearly suppertime, and thanks to Alex, Summer had a pizza in the freezer. She set the oven to 400 degrees and, while waiting for it to heat up, flicked on the kitchen TV.

A news story filled the screen: a young woman had been brutally attacked and left for dead in Chicago. Her story, except that Summer had been attacked after recording a commercial for a Denver car dealership.

“It’s a miracle she survived,” the anchorman was saying. Had the woman’s assailant subdued her by grabbing a handful of long hair, the way Samuels had?

In the chrome finish of the toaster, Summer caught sight of her chin-length hair. She’d badgered Justin into giving her a boy cut before she’d been released from the hospital, but had kept it a little longer since. Now when she took the time to style it—which was rare, since she never went anywhere—the side curls almost hid the scar on her cheek.

Her cell phone pinged, making her jump. She opened the text from her dad.

We missed our plane, so Mom and I are taking a flight out in two days. That gives you plenty of time to make reservations so the three of us can go skiing when we get there!

She typed back a response.

Can’t wait. Love you guys!

Her message was only half-true. Summer tensed, thinking of the lectures they’d subject her to when they learned she wouldn’t be joining them on the slopes. That she’d only been out of the house twice—both times to see her orthopedist—since they’d left to film a movie in Africa. Any day now, they’d stand face-to-face with the truth about who she’d allowed herself to become.

Oh, she’d kept up with physical therapy—what else was there to do, all alone in her house every day!—but she hadn’t been outside, not even to pick up the mail or newspaper at the community box on the corner. She eased the guilt by telling herself that her parents were actors, accustomed to disappointment. But that frustration had come in the form of producer-and director-delivered rejections. Finding out that she’d deliberately misled them, no matter the reason, was a completely different kind of distress, and she knew it.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” her mom had said as she packed for the trip to Botswana, “but your dad and I miss the plucky risk-taker you were before the accident.”

Accident, indeed. If they couldn’t deal with the facts, how did they expect her to face them?

Again, Alex’s words echoed in her head: you don’t have to live this way.

The oven beeped, telling her it had finished preheating. She slid the pizza onto the top rack, set the timer and changed the channel. Not even watching a young man trying to coax his aging mother to give up years’ worth of hoarded possessions could distract her from Alex’s wise advice. The boy was right. She couldn’t stay in this house forever.

Summer combed her fingers through her bangs. It had become a nervous habit, like feeling sorry for herself and hiding from the world. Things needed to change, and the sooner, the better.

She grabbed the flyer. What could it hurt, she thought, picking up the phone, to talk to the Amazing Zach?

CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE CHAPTER THIRTY CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX EPILOGUE Copyright

ALEX PRESSED THE receiver to his chest and waved his boss closer to the reception counter. Zach draped a towel around his neck, using the corner to blot perspiration from his upper lip. “What’s up, buddy?”

“Remember that lady I told you about? Well,” he said, pointing at the phone’s mouthpiece, “this is her!”

Like a one-man PR firm, Alex had brought clients of all genders, sizes and ages to Zach’s studio. “You’ve told me about lots of ladies,” he said, grinning. “Help me out here, kid.”

“Summer Lane. You know, the one who lives next door to Mom and me? Who’s afraid to come out of her house ’cause she was attacked couple years ago?”

Oh. That one . What kind of people named their daughter Summer? “Hippies!” his dad would say. Zach pictured a long-haired, cringing spinster, darting from window to window, checking locks and peeking at the world through dusty Venetian blinds.

“She wants to ask you a couple questions. About signing up for classes, I hope.” He put the phone back up to his ear. “Hey, Summer, Zach is—”

Based on the sudden disappointment on the boy’s face, Zach could only assume the poor old thing had changed her mind.

“No, wait! Please don’t hang up, Summer, he’s standing right here!”

Alex thrust the phone into Zach’s hand. “Go easy on her, will ya? Mom says she’s kinda fragile.”

Fragile . The very word Zach’s mom had used to describe Libby right after her ordeal. But unlike the woman on the phone, Libby bounced back quickly, due in part to the unwavering support of friends and family...and her own stubborn determination to put the nightmare behind her. He knew next to nothing about this Summer person, but from what little Alex had told him, Zach guessed she wasn’t made of the same sturdy stuff.

“Miss Lane? Zach Marshall here.” He caught a distant glimpse of himself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror at the back of the room. What are you smiling about, you big idiot. She can’t see you . “What can I do for you?” he said, putting his back to his reflection.

“You’ll probably think I’m being ridiculous,” she began, “but I don’t know enough about your studio—or self-defense, for that matter—to even voice an intelligent question. What I do know is that Alex speaks very highly of you. And that he swears that what you’ve taught him has improved every area of his life.”

That smooth, sultry voice sure didn’t go with his image of a cringing spinster. She’d roused his curiosity, for sure.

“Just so happens Wednesday is our slow day,” he said. “If you’re not busy now, c’mon down. I’ll give you the nickel tour, and do my best to answer whatever ques—”

Alex heaved a frustrated sigh and slapped a palm over his eyes. “She never leaves her house,” he whispered through clenched teeth. “Not ever. Remember?”

“Trust me,” Zach mouthed.

“On second thought,” he said into the phone, “I have a better idea. Alex needs some behind-the-wheel time before his big driver’s test. How about we drive over, pick you up and bring you back here. There’s a small class starting in about an hour. You could watch, and maybe that’ll answer some of your questions.”

“I, well, but...”

Alex leaned closer and said into the mouthpiece, “Say yes, Summer. Please? I could use the driving practice. You’ll be doing me a really, really big favor.”