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Danger at her Door
Beth Cornelison
MILLS & BOON
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To Paul, my husband and best friend!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 1
“Megan Hoffman, you’re under arrest.”
Raising her gaze from the latest you’re-over-the-hill-at-thirty birthday card from her colleagues, Megan met the unyielding stare of the police officer standing beside her chair in a private room of an upscale coffee shop. Her fellow teachers had convinced her to join them for lattes and birthday cake on their way home from school, and, though tired, Megan had accepted the thoughtful offer.
But the policeman staring down at her quickly put a damper on any fun she’d been having. “E-excuse me?”
The sight of the uniform prodded a memory that lurked daily at the corners of her thoughts, and a shiver crept down her spine. Shock rendered her mind blank and her jaw slack.
“I have a warrant here for your arrest, Miss Megan,” he said, arching a black eyebrow.
“What on earth for?” She realized too late how loud and panicked her voice sounded. Casting a nervous glance around the table at the other teachers, she found all eyes on her. Even Principal Wilkins witnessed the unfolding drama with a peculiar, amused expression on his face.
Clearing her throat, Megan repeated the question more calmly.
A smile touched the corner of the officer’s lips, and that hint of a grin, along with his informal use of “Miss Megan,” rang warning bells in her head.
The young police officer unfolded a sheet of paper and gave it a once-over. “According to this, you turned thirty today.”
Megan blinked, confused. “Yes, but—”
The officer reached behind his back and whipped out his handcuffs.
The loud whoosh of rushing blood filled her ears and drowned out his reply. Numbly, she watched the bright flash of silver swim before her eyes. He tugged her arm up and snapped the cold metal shackle to her wrist. She froze in shock as he quickly threaded the cuffs under the armrest then shackled her other wrist as well. Her panicked yelp rang mutely in her ears, as if from under water. She fought the imprisoning cuffs, jerking her hands back to free them. No use. The cuffs fettered her to the chair. No! Not again! Please, God, not again!
The blare of music, reverberating from the white plaster walls, snatched her from her dazed struggle. Galled by the turn of events, she searched the faces of her fellow teachers and sought an ally.
The usually stoic third-grade teacher smiled and sipped her Coca-Cola. Propped next to the creams and sugars on the condiment counter, the physical education instructor laughed. At the end of the table, the principal’s secretary bit her lip to cover a giggle. “It’d been so long since you had a date, we figured you could use a man for your birthday!”
The secretary’s comment brought a murmur of chuckles from the rest of the table, but the swirl of panic spinning through Megan’s brain muddled her thoughts and made it difficult to comprehend what was happening.
The police officer turned her chair and stepped into her line of vision, his broad chest obscuring her view of her colleagues. The pounding beat of music echoed her heart’s frantic rhythm. An all-too-familiar sense of terror washed through her, paralyzing her limbs. Megan fought for a calming breath.
On some level, she realized this was a birthday prank. But the raw memories of other handcuffs, another fake policeman, and a desperate battle for her life erased any humor in her colleagues’ ploy.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to shake off the haunting images that flickered through her mind. Just as she drew a reinforcing breath and peeked up at the faux officer, he ripped his shirt open and leaned dangerously close to her.
Her attacker pinned her wrists with one hand while he tore at her shirt with the other. Her scream tangled with the sound of ripping fabric.
Megan flinched and kept her eyes shut. Her anxiety snowballed, choking the air from her lungs. A fresh surge of the anguish she’d spent the past five years subduing swept through her, immobilizing her.
“Stop!” The desperate, strangled quality of her voice surprised even Megan. Past and present twined around each other.
An insistent voice in her head impelled her to move her frozen arms. She fought the hard shackles binding her until her wrists stung.
“Come on, Megan. Be a sport! It’s all in fun!” the science teacher called over the thumping music.
Drawn back from the memories that taunted her, Megan heard the giggles around her fade to curious whispers.
“Please stop! Just let me go!” She knew her behavior, her pleas, would raise questions—questions she wasn’t ready to answer. If she’d thought she’d outrun the past, she’d been wrong. A bitter brew of emotions swirled in her gut, biting, clawing. But one ever-present emotion reigned over them all.
Fear.
For five years, fear had been her constant companion. She’d battled it, bargained with it and analyzed it. Yet no matter how she hated it and prayed to be free of it, fear ruled her life.
The stripper grabbed the buckle on his pants, and she wailed, “No! Stop!”
Tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped from the tip of her nose. With her hands cuffed to the chair, she couldn’t even wipe the drops of moisture, the visible evidence of her agony.
“All right, hotshot. That’s enough. Joke’s over. She’s obviously not amused.”
Megan recognized Principal Wilkins’s voice but kept her head down until the music stopped and the shadow of the stripper moved away from her. How did she face the other teachers? How could she explain her reaction to their prank? She couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not