Cyclone: A Linear Tactical Romantic Suspense Standalone Page 15

  “I’m only saying, I think it’s sweet. The biracial thing doesn’t bother me at all. And love doesn’t care how old they are.”

  Another woman answered. “I just don’t know how long it will last. The sheriff has been married twice before, you know.”

  It looked like the gossipmongers had moved on to someone else.

  * * *

  The day was steady, as she liked them. It kept her focused and made the hours fly by. She got a text from Zac around dinnertime saying he wasn’t going to make it to the hospital to eat with her like he’d hoped, some sort of electrical problem at Linear. She texted back.

  I should be done by 9 PM. I’ll just come to your place.

  Perfect. I plan to have you naked five minutes later.

  She rolled her eyes even as her body tingled at the thought.

  By eight o’clock, things had slowed down enough that she decided to leave. It was still drizzling as she walked out the front door toward the hospital lot and cursed under her breath when she remembered she’d parked at the Frontier this morning. Hopefully her car would start this time. It looked like she was back to praying to the patron saint of automobiles. At least she had someone who could come and get her now if she got stranded.

  That was a nice feeling.

  Wishing she had an umbrella, she began jogging around the hospital toward the diner. She could cut down Main Street or take the shorter back path through the small park she’d walked through this morning.

  Rain. Shorter was better.

  But as she stepped toward the park, it seemed darker than usual. Was that the rain? Was she being overly suspicious because of the sheriff’s presence at the hospital earlier? She strained her eyes, searching for the path she thought a lamp normally lit. She hadn’t really paid attention before, but hadn’t there been a couple lights along this path? And now they weren’t on.

  Situational awareness.

  Was she being paranoid? Maybe. But if someone had shot out the lights like they had at the vet’s office, Anne wasn’t taking a chance. She turned and walked down the street instead. It was Sunday, the clothes shops, hair salons, and hardware store that lined the road were all closed, but at least the streetlights weren’t out.

  She kept her head down, shivering, darting from the overhang of one building to another. It didn’t take long before she wished she’d gone through the park. She would’ve already been at her car by now.

  Having excellent situation awareness wasn’t going to help at all if she died from pneumonia or hypotherm—

  There was no warning at all, no movement or sound to alert her. A hand clamped over her mouth, and an arm wrapped around the front of her body, trapping both her arms against her chest. She froze, her brain trying to process exactly what was happening. She waited a split second, hoping this was a joke, Zac or someone messing with her.

  But it wasn’t.

  The man—bigger than her, stronger than her, and very definitely not Zac—began hauling her with bruising force down the alley that ran between the nail salon and the coffee shop, away from the main street.

  Anne’s brain finally caught up with the situation, and she fought, twisting and kicking. She screamed, but only muffled sounds escaped from behind the man’s hand. No one was out in this rain, nor would anyone inside be able to hear her.

  She tried to use her height to her advantage—Anne was no dainty, petite woman. She threw her weight to the side, knocking both her and her attacker into the concrete wall of the alley. Her legs scraped painfully against it, but he didn’t let go. He just dragged her farther along.

  Fear flooded through her, thick and slimy. This was the rapist. He’d waited for her like he had for Kimmy and Veronica.

  Anne fought harder.

  Working one arm free, she twisted, trying to claw his face, but found some sort of ski mask beneath her fingertips. Her nails couldn’t do any damage, so she tried to hit him instead. She barely got in one ill-aimed punch before he slammed her head into the wall. White dots floated in front of her vision, agony spiking through her skull where her forehead had hit.

  Everything blurred. She needed to fight. He was dragging her toward the end of the alley, and each step took her farther from safety and closer to where he wanted her. She tried to yank away again as he took her behind a large garbage container.

  He pulled her closer, hand still over her mouth, his breath hot, fast, and sickening in her ear, as he forced her down on her stomach in the gravel and mud. She couldn’t manage to get her arm free to protect her face from the rocks ripping into the skin at her temple. She twisted to try to move his suffocating hand from her mouth, but it wouldn’t give. His heavy weight on her back forced her flat onto the ground.

  He reached for her scrubs, pushing the elastic waistband lower, exposing her. Wildly, she twisted, trying to bring her legs back to strike him, to do any damage she could. He hit her again, slamming her head against the ground.

  Anne fought to hold on to consciousness, focusing on the sound of his breath in her ear. It kept her conscious, but she began to gag.

  Her scrubs tore under the man’s hand, and her terror multiplied. She ripped at the hand over her mouth again, forcing one of his fingers close enough so she could bite it. He howled before slamming her head into the concrete once again, this time finding a place with a puddle and holding her face in it.

  Anne choked as she breathed in the dirty water. She tried to lift her face, but he jammed it down.

  God, was she going to die in two inches of water? That was all it took.

  His hand yanked down her scrubs, the cold rain hitting her back and buttocks before he covered her with his body again.

  “I always catch what I hunt,” he said in a raspy voice full of triumph.

  Utter loathing gave her a final burst of strength. She flung herself as hard as she could to the side, catching him off guard in the midst of his gloating. She brought her elbow up and drove it into his head, causing him to loosen his grip.

  It gave her the moment she needed. A scream blasted out of her puddle-flooded lungs. She grabbed a small rock and began banging it against the metal trash container. The sound echoed through the night.

  It was enough.

  A shout from far off caused her attacker to jump away. One of his black combat boots flew at her midsection, the force of it slamming her backward before she felt anything. Then the pain exploded. She rolled to her side, not even able to cry out as he kicked her again in her femur.

  Then he was gone. Anne struggled to pull air into her lungs, lying face-first on the ground.

  She heard other noises around her, saw feet. Panic set in again. She had to get out of here. She tried to turn herself, so she could face the exit of the alley. But that small movement took every bit of strength she had.

  Through the haze of pain, she realized the shoes were different. White tennis shoes. Not black boots. It didn’t matter because Anne couldn’t find the strength to move anyway, no matter who it was. She lay still, just trying to draw in enough air to survive. The shoes ran away.

  A few moments later, the white shoes returned. She heard more yelling, but it seemed distant, like she was watching the whole scene from far away. The shoes’ owner bent down.

  A big black man with a chef’s apron. Trey. From the Frontier. She knew him.

  “Oh God, Dr. Griffin. Doc. It’s going to be okay. He’s gone now. No one’s going to hurt you. Hold on, help is coming.”

  She’d never heard Trey talk so much.

  She just lay there on her side with her cheek on the ground, looking at him. She should say something, but she couldn’t. She still couldn’t get air fully into her lungs—some distant part of her diagnosed it as a bruised or cracked rib. She couldn’t even muster the energy to cover herself. All she could do was shiver.

  Trey took off his apron and laid it over Anne’s waist and hips. At first, she thought it was because he was trying to keep her warm, but then realized he was trying to cover where
the attacker had ripped her scrubs. Shudders racked her body, and she struggled not to vomit.

  Trey yelled to someone at the end of the alley, and soon there were more people around. Anne just closed her eyes. She was so cold now she couldn’t feel anything anyway.

  “Call 911,” Trey said.

  “We’re only two blocks from the hospital. We could carry her there in less time ourselves.” Another man. Frantic. Worried.

  “I’m not sure about her injuries,” Trey said. “If we should move her.”

  Someone else ran up. A woman. “Oh my God. What happened?” Wavy. “Is that Annie?”

  “Wavy, you talk to her,” Trey said. “She knows you.”

  “Is she conscious?”

  “I think so. She was a minute ago.”

  She couldn’t force herself to open her eyes. The men kept talking, one agreeing to run to the hospital to get help. Someone moved near her.

  “Anne, sweetie, can you open your eyes?”

  Wavy’s voice was so soft, concerned, Anne forced herself to do what the woman asked.

  She found Wavy’s face a few inches from her own. The other woman’s cheek was also on the ground, lying on her side, mirroring Anne. Like two girls gossiping at a sleepover.

  Anne closed her eyes again. She’d never had many sleepovers.

  “Can you hear me?” Wavy asked. Her fingers gently touched Anne’s cheeks. “Can you open your eyes again?”

  “Yes.” The word came out as a croak, but she did what Wavy asked.

  Wavy smiled. “Good, sweetie. It’s cold out here. We need to get you to the hospital.”

  A few moments later a dry blanket floated over both Anne and Wavy. The warmth felt wonderful, although she knew it wouldn’t take long for it to get wet in the rain.

  She had to get up. She didn’t want Wavy to get hypothermia from being in this weather. Everything hurt so much.

  Anne struggled through the pain and haze to find the physician part of herself, to evaluate herself objectively. She knew what Wavy was most worried about.

  “He d-d-didn’t—” Anne couldn’t say the word. “Trey scared him off before...”

  Wavy’s eyes closed briefly. “Thank God. But you’ve got other injuries, honey. You still need to go to the hospital.”

  “He kicked me.” Anne tried to take a deep breath but gasped at the sharp pain. “I think one of my ribs might be fractured.”

  More people surrounded them now, and the blanket was getting wetter.

  “I want to go inside.” Her voice was tinny. Weak. She didn’t like it. She tried again to categorize her injuries but couldn’t think about it right now. Everything hurt so bad. “I want Zac.”

  Wavy nodded. “I know you do, sweetie. He’ll be here soon.”

  “I need everyone to clear this area,” a man shouted. “If you’re not Trey, Wavy, or a medical professional, you need to remove yourself right now.”

  “I think I have to go,” she told Wavy, worriedly. Everything was spinning. Did she have a fever? The flu? No, of course not. She had a concussion. “The yelling man didn’t mention my name.”

  Wavy’s brow furrowed and she reached a hand out toward Anne again. “That’s Sheriff Nelson. He’s here to help. And I think it’s okay for you to stay too. You are a medical professional.”

  “That’s true. I’m so tired, Wavy. And my head hurts. Everything hurts. Will you stay with me, so I can take a nap?” She inched her fingers toward Wavy’s outstretched hand until they touched.

  “Absolutely. I’ll be right here.”

  Anne closed her eyes and let the blessed darkness take over.

  “What did you guys do, throw a firecracker in here or something?”

  Zac and Aiden were sitting in the dark of their 20,000-square-foot training facility, holding flashlights for Louis Bellman, the same electrician Zac had called to fix Anne’s electrical problems after the flooding.

  “Yeah, it looked like a mess to me, too,” Zac said. “That’s why we decided to call you.”

  The training facility—by far the most valuable part of the property—was massive. It was used for all sorts of training and had its own electrical room. Louis had been studying the damage ever since he’d arrived a couple hours ago, when they’d found the power completely dead in the building.

  They’d thought it might be a city issue, that the power was just out in their grid, until they’d gone into the electrical room. Some sort of complete meltdown had happened in one section.

  “You guys have any sort of sabotage problems, pranks, anything like that lately?” Louis asked, looking through the wires that had melted together.

  “No.” Zac looked over at Aiden who shrugged. “Why?”

  “Because if I had to take a guess, I think someone did this on purpose. It might be some sort of faulty wiring causing a meltdown. But with a building this new, and as good as you take care of it, it’s not likely.”

  Fuck. It was going to be a long night if they were talking sabotage.

  “What would someone gain from blowing the power to our training facility?” Aiden asked. “I mean, it’s a pain in the ass, and probably a sizable expense, but we’ve got insurance.”

  “Rival company, maybe?” Louis continued to study the melted wiring.

  “It’s possible.” Zac shook his head. “But it’s not like we’re unfriendly with each other. No turf wars or crap like that.”

  “We don’t even have anyone on the schedule for using the building this week, do we?” Aiden shifted to give Louis more light. “So, if someone was trying to sabotage us, they picked the least painful week to do it.”

  “Maybe it really was a freak thing. It happens.” Louis turned to them. “I’ll have to rebuild part of this panel, but it should only take a day or two at most. Looks like all the damage was isolated here. Nothing else has been—”

  Finn came running into the electrical room at a full sprint. Zac and Aiden both spun, ready for battle, looking for whatever enemy needed fighting.

  “What?” Zac barked.

  “It’s Anne.” Finn’s eyes were anguished. “Someone attacked her in town as she was walking to her car.”

  Aiden cursed, Zac barely registering the sound.

  “I’ve got this,” Louis said. “You guys go.”

  Within seconds they were running for the parking lot. Zac wanted to drive but Aiden shook his head.

  “I’ll drive.”

  Zac wanted to argue that he could drive, to feel like he was in control of some fucking thing, but he didn’t. It would just waste time.

  Annie.

  He jumped in the passenger side of Aiden’s Jeep, and Finn climbed in the back. He felt slightly better when Aiden tore out of the driveway faster than even Zac would have taken it.

  Zac took a deep breath and focused. “Tell me what you know.”

  “Wavy called me,” Finn said. “Somebody jumped Anne as she was walking to her car from the hospital. It was parked at the Frontier. Bastard pulled her down into that alley by the nail salon.”

  Zac’s knuckles grew white from the grip he had on the dashboard. Annie was alive, that was the most important thing. All the other questions he pushed out of his mind. She was alive.

  “Trey went to take some trash out. He heard a scream and something banging on a dumpster and ran over there. Scared the guy off.”

  Zac wiped a hand across his face as Aiden pushed the gas down harder. If someone hadn’t been taking out the damn trash...

  Finn put a hand on his shoulder. “Wavy told me Anne said she wasn’t raped, man. That Trey scared the guy off in time.”

  Zac held on to that. Wanted it to be true with every fiber of his being. He had to get to Annie and talk to her himself. “Okay.”

  “But she’s hurt. Bastard kicked her and slammed her head against the ground or a wall. She’s unconscious and doesn’t look very good. Wavy’s damn near hysterical.”

  Zac had known Finn’s sister all her life. It took a lot to make Waverly Bolli
nger lose it.

  “Okay,” he said again.

  “I’m just telling you this, so you can be prepared.”

  “I know, Finn. Thank you.”

  Finn didn’t want him rushing in there and letting all his fury loose in front of Annie. That was the last thing she needed. Zac would keep the rage flowing through him under control. For her. To be whatever Annie needed.

  Even if she didn’t want to see him at all—which, given everything, was a distinct possibility. He’d just sit out in the waiting room.

  “Is anybody with her?”

  “Wavy’s still there. And Riley Wilde. Sheriff has already been on scene and in the hospital. They moved her directly into a room, she’s not in the ICU or anything. So that’s good.”

  “I’ll get Dorian out there ASAP,” Aiden said quietly, not taking his eyes off the road. “The rain makes things tougher, but you know he’ll do his damnedest.”

  Why hadn’t she parked in the hospital lot? Why would her car have been at the Frontier?

  The ten minutes into town were the longest of Zac’s life. Aiden let them off at the front of the emergency room. Wavy met them at the entrance. She was still in her Frontier uniform, the side of her face dirty, her auburn hair completely out of its normal, neat ponytail. Finn pulled his sister in for a hug.

  “How is she?” Zac asked, fighting every urge to blow by them and sprint to Annie’s room, the need to rush to her side itching through his skin.

  Wavy walked to Zac and put both hands on his biceps, forcing him to focus on her. “She’s asleep right now. Medicated. That’s good. It will probably be a few hours before she even begins to stir.”

  Zac nodded, focusing, calming himself.

  “She wasn’t raped, Zac. She said that from the beginning, and the assault kit test confirmed that. It was definitely his intent, but he wasn’t able to do it.”

  “Thank God.” He sagged, realizing he hadn’t believed it when he’d heard it the first time. He still needed to see her.

  They began walking slowly toward the elevator.

  “She wasn’t raped,” Wavy continued, “but it’s still pretty bad. He hit her and ground her face into the pavement. Kicked her in the abdomen and bruised two of her ribs pretty severely.”