Half Past Dead (23 page)

K
AT DIDN'T RECOGNIZE
this demented stranger. She didn't recall seeing him around town. But with complete certainty, she knew he was going to rape her. Chances were he would kill her before Justin returned.

She whipped out the gun from behind her back and pulled the trigger as she jumped to the side, hoping he couldn't react quickly enough to shoot her. Nothing! The gun didn't fire.

The hulking creep belted out a derisive laugh. “Forgot the safety, bitch.”

Acting on instinct alone, she charged forward and hurled the gun at his face while kicking toward his groin. Redd lunged with her, taking Kat by surprise. Kat's foot missed the target, but the dog chomped down on the brute's leg just as the gun hit him square in the nose.

“Shee-it!” he howled, staggering backward into the hall, blood spurting from his nose. He dropped his weapon. It clattered onto the wood floor with a deafening bang.

Run!

In a split second, she exploded out of the bedroom and bolted down the hall. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Redd hanging onto the man's calf like he was a pit bull instead of a scaredy-cat retriever. Heart pounding in her ears, already weak and short of breath, she dashed toward the front door.

Fumbling with the chain on the safety lock, she heard a pain-stricken yelp. He'd clobbered poor Redd. Suddenly, there was movement behind her. She managed to open the door and sprinted out onto the porch.
Keep moving,
she told herself even though her weakened body trembled with the effort.

With a shriek she was positive could be heard all the way back in town, she stormed down the steps into the yard. Bathed in a bone-chilling sweat and disoriented by the darkness, she struggled to recall the layout of Justin's place. A wisp of a breeze fluttered around her, causing silhouettes to twist and lunge, every shadow a threat.

She'd been so out of it when they'd driven up that all she remembered was an unkempt fenced yard and a detached two-car garage with a workroom or shop built onto the back of it. A dense layer of clouds blanketed the new moon, blocking out the stars as well. It was nearly impossible to see where she was going, but she rushed forward.

In the distance, she detected a glimmer of light through the trees. That must be where Justin had gone. She screamed again for all she was worth. A tromping sound startled her.
Oh, no. Oh, no.
The creep was chasing her, running her to ground. He would pounce on her before she could reach the house beyond the trees.

The garage. He wouldn't be able to see where she went, if she could manage to make it to the back of the garage. He would expect her to head toward the lights. She might be able to fool him by running in the opposite direction, toward the thicket that she vaguely remembered seeing behind the garage. The whole unincorporated area was riddled with dense stands of old-growth trees—perfect for hiding.

Her stomach heaved and her legs threatened to buckle beneath her, but she forced herself to race across the unmowed grass. Behind her, Kat heard footfalls like a charging buffalo. The guy might be clumsy, but he was shockingly fast, and he was rapidly closing the distance between them. She screamed again—just in case someone was out there and could hear her.

“You're dead, bitch!” he yelled as if he'd gone berserk.

He was just seconds behind her now. Kat knew she wouldn't make it to the rear of the garage and into the woods without him seeing where she went. She veered right and crashed through the partially open door into the workroom attached to the garage. She slammed the door shut a split second before he reached it. The only lock she could feel in the darkness was a small button in the knob itself.

Not much protection.

He rammed the door with his shoulder and dust filled the air. Coughing and struggling to gain control of her senses, she fumbled in the dark for something to use as a weapon. Undoubtedly, he would bust through in less than a minute. Her hands discovered a long handle. A rake or a hoe? she wondered hopefully. No. A broom.

Oh, great! How could she defend herself with a broom? Her sixth sense told her to stand beside the door. The way he was pummeling it with his whole body, when he broke through, his momentum would carry him into the small narrow room. With luck, she could escape out the door behind him while he was struggling to get his bearings.

He battered the door again and again, apparently charging the barricade from a running start a short distance away. A moment later, he punched a hole with his fist in the door near the handle. In the dim light coming from God-only-knew-where she spotted his white hand, flapping around, searching for the knob. She grabbed two of his fingers and snapped them backward with all her might.

“Muth-fucker!” he shrieked from the other side of the door. He yanked his hand out of range. “Yer dead meat, bitch!”

An eerie calmness had overtaken Kat. She wrapped her arms around her waist, attempting to hold herself together. She'd been in terrible situations before, but then death hadn't been riding on her shoulder like an avenging angel. She waited, no longer trembling, knowing she would have just one chance to get away from this monster. He smacked the door again with his beefy shoulder.

Off to the side, Kat waited, biding her time while striving to organize her thoughts and keep panic at bay. The way he was thwacking the door, the madman would fly into the room any second.

“Fuckin'A!” he ranted, then rammed into the door so hard the wall against her back shook.

Something in his tone alerted Kat, and she pressed her body as close to the wall as possible. He would sail by her in a heartbeat. With luck, it would be enough time for her to flee across the yard to the trees where she could hide. The next instant, the door splintered on its hinges and the creep hurled into the room.

Kat leaped out the door and stormed toward the thicket of trees and underbrush.

“Stop, bitch! Or I'm gonna kill him as soon as he comes home!”

Him?

Kat stumbled to a halt, not trusting what she'd heard. Her breath left her lungs in labored pants. Did this monster mean Justin? Duh! Of course he did. What could she do to help him?

He pounced on Kat and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her backward so hard her teeth rattled. With an open fist, he slapped her with such force her vision blurred and her ears rang. He pulled her against him. The sour odor of sweat rank with rum filled her lungs. She slumped, making herself dead weight, but it didn't faze him. One arm around her waist, he dragged her toward the house.

Please, save me, Justin, she silently prayed.

He hauled her up the two steps to the front door. It was wide open, but the house was still dark inside. He heaved her onto the sofa, then came down on top of her like a sack of wet cement. The force of his weight knocked the air out of her lungs with a whoosh. She felt the gun, shoved into the waistband of his pants, dig into the tender flesh of her belly. If only she could distract him long enough to grab the gun.

Terror mounting, she gasped for breath. There was just enough light glowing from the digital clock on the oven in the nearby kitchen for her to see his white teeth as he grinned down at her and the fireworks detonating in his eyes. Blood dribbled from his nose and was smeared across his cheek.

He slammed one meaty hand down on her breast and squeezed—hard. It hurt, but she refused to cry out. He dug in his fingers more, determined to cause as much pain as he could. His dirty, smelly body ground against her like a rutting boar.

“You're gonna pay for breakin' my nose, bitch!”

Kat's pulse spiked; her breath came in choppy, terrified pants. Oh, Lordy, her life couldn't end like this. Raped and murdered. A wave of horror unlike anything she'd ever experienced—even in prison—engulfed her.

Desperate and savage as a cornered wildcat, she reminded herself of the lessons she'd learned in the school of hard knocks. His huge body, smoldering with heat and reeking of rum and BO had her overpowered. She had to use her wits if she intended to survive.

“Why are you after Justin?” she asked, hoping that getting him to talk would stall him.

“He killed my brother.” He released her breast and shoved his rough hand under her shorts and across her stomach to her crotch. “Shee-it! Nice pussy Radner gots hisself.”

Kat's stomach heaved, and for a second she thought what little she'd eaten would come up. Droplets of sweat popped out on her forehead. She thought she heard the click of Redd's nails on the wooden floor, but couldn't be sure. If the dog would just bite him again, she might be able to grab the gun.

Headlights cracked the dark yard like twin bolts of lightning. Justin was back. Voices. Someone was with him.

His hand locked around her throat. “One sound and you're dead.”

He was crushing her Adam's apple, cutting off her air entirely. A hard rim of pitch-black limited her field of vision. Any second she would pass out from lack of oxygen. She bucked upward as best she could, but he didn't loosen his grip. He was going for the gun. She attempted to knee him in the groin, but he shifted to the side.

As his weight shifted, he took his hand off her neck. The bile welled up in her throat and the lack of air had sent her queasy tummy into a backflip. She gasped for air and told herself to hurl.
Come on. Just let it go.

Her stomach clenched then heaved upward in a sickening rush. She aimed right at his face. The putrid-smelling vomit hit him in the eyes. He punched at her viciously, but she managed to duck to the side.

The lights flashed on, blinding her. She kicked upward, counting on the element of surprise and knowing the sudden brightness had to have affected him, too. Before she realized it, she had her hand on the gun. They grappled for control of the weapon. She was aware of voices yelling, but she was too intent on disarming him. If he had his finger on the trigger, she was certain the man would shoot Justin.

A shot split the vile-smelling air.

The beast looked at her blankly for a moment, grabbed his crotch, then toppled over. Redd hovered nearby, growling. Justin and a deputy stood not far away, guns drawn.

Kat stood up, covered in puke and blood. He was still alive, writhing on the floor, clutching his penis.

“Are you all right, honey?” Justin asked.

“Y-yes, I…think so.”

Justin came over and helped her to her feet. He slipped his arm around her and gave her a hug.

“Yow-zer!” cried the deputy. “Gal, you shot him in the balls.”

Unexpectedly, both men began to laugh. Justin squeezed her tighter.

“I didn't shoot him,” she told Justin. “The gun just went off.”

While the deputy cuffed the man, Justin said, “It doesn't matter, honey. You're safe. That's what counts.”

“He was after you.”

Justin pushed on the man's foot with the toe of his boot. “Gunning for me, Lucas? If you hadn't taken a bullet, I'd ream you a new one for being such a chickenshit to pick on a helpless woman.”

“Helpless?” The man grunted, both hands locked on the crotch of his blood-soaked jeans. “She's a ballbuster. This here's bleedin' like a muther!”

“Call an ambulance,” Justin told his deputy. “Go with him to the hospital ward at the jail in Jackson.” Justin turned to Kat. “Are you sure you're all right?”

“Yes. You arrived in the nick of time.”

“Sorry I wasn't here sooner. Randolph's wife will never learn. He busted her nose, but she fought us. When we calmed her down, we spent almost an hour trying to convince her to press charges.”

“She flat refused,” added the deputy. “We can't charge him unless she agrees.”

“Get him out of here before I do something I'll regret,” Justin told his deputy.

“You got it.” The deputy hauled Lucas, still moaning, to his feet.

Justin guided forward. “Let's get you into the shower.”

The adrenaline rush and the bout of pure terror caught up with her. Trembling as if she were freezing and knees buckling with every movement, Kat did as she was told. In the bathroom she peeled off the shorts and shucked the T-shirt. She could have washed the clothes, but decided to pitch them. She could never look at either garment again without thinking of the brute's hands all over her.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the closed door. Ohmigod! Smudges of blood crisscrossed her cheek and neck. Somewhere along the way, she'd skinned her elbows—probably when he'd hauled her up the steps. Bruises were beginning to form on her throat where he'd choked her. An angry purple and blue splotch covered most of one hip. Dirt and leaves clung to her skin, along with disgusting patches of vomit.

Kat managed to shower and rinse out her hair. She dried herself and toweled the water from her hair. She was so rattled and exhausted she couldn't concentrate much less blow her hair dry. She noticed Justin had removed the stinky clothes and left one of his well-worn T-shirts.

Justin knocked softly, calling, “How are you feeling?”

She opened the door. “I'm a little light-headed.”

He gazed down at her, his expression concerned.

“Is Redd okay?”

“He's fine,” Justin replied. “Why?”

“He bit the guy's leg. The man must have hit or kicked Redd to get him off.”

“You're kidding.”

“Seriously.”

“I'll be damned.” He grinned. “Now, let's get you into bed before you collapse.”

“What about the mess in the living room?”

“I cleaned it up.”

“I'm sorry. When I thought he was going to shoot, I forced myself to throw up. It wasn't that hard. My stomach's been really upset.”

“Good thinking.” He guided her out of the steamy room toward her bedroom. “It's worked for other women when men have tried to rape them.”

Redd was waiting in the hall for them. He spotted Kat and his tail began to whip through the air.