Whispers in the Night

“I have a knee-jerk reaction to men who threaten women.”

She allowed herself a small smile, acknowledging the ambiguity in the situation. “Good for me you do. This time, anyway. It made Steven go away. Thank you.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, scrubbing at it, as though he were tired. Then he emitted a loud sigh. “He’ll be back, you know.”

“Steven never goes away.”

“Is he out of control? Has he ever been violent with you?”

“Not so far. Let’s hope he remains that way.”

His look said he was skeptical about that possibility. “Well, whatever you think about the way I handle myself, a physical threat is the only language some people understand. I’m good at that. So—” He paused, frowned as he silently considered something. Then he shook his head, as though thoroughly disgusted with himself before he went on. “Look, I’ll stay out of your business. But…hey, I’m here if you need me.”

At these words of support, even though they’d been delivered with obvious reluctance, a sweet warmth filled her insides. “That’s about the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in, well, in a long, long time.”

She reached up and laid her hand on his forearm. It was the first time she’d actually touched him, and the fact that his skin, under a light dusting of surprisingly soft hair, was warm and his arm was rock-hard with muscle reassured her even more. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Crea-e-eak.

At first she incorporated the noise into her dream, something sensual about a huge, unsmiling-but-studly man and a bed with old box springs.

Crea-ee-eak.

But then Kayla sat straight up in bed, her heart thudding, her throat clogged with fear. It was not a dream. It was the same noise she’d heard two nights ago. Again, it came from her downstairs porch.

Instinctively, her mind sought answers. If it was an animal, there was nothing out there to attract it. She’d thoroughly cleaned the compost pile. All garbage was in plastic bags in the mudroom. There wasn’t even anything growing in her garden to tempt the noncarnivores; all the weeds were gone. She intended to plant all kinds of nourishing vegetables after winter passed, in the early spring.

Crea-eee-eak.

A wild thought entered her head that she ought to get Paul to fix those loose slats. Sooner rather than later. But if he did, she wouldn’t have any warning sign when there was a trespasser, and then, whatever or whoever it was could creep up on her while she was sleeping.

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