Trial Run Read online

  Outside the cemetery gates, David was waiting for me. He looked younger than he had when I first met him. The lines of strain around eyes and mouth had eased. He smiled at me and I felt my step lighten as he reached for my hand.

  Together we turned toward home.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Anne Metikosh has written a number of novels, short stories, and articles on a wide range of subjects. Trial Run is her first ebook and her first foray into romantic suspense.

  She lives and works in Calgary, Alberta, where the magnificent landscape is her muse.

  A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance

  (From Love’s Secret Fire by Rena Koontz)

  Valerie Daniels pushed the green beans on her plate to form the letter “D.” “D” for dull. How much more of this boring man could she stand? If only she’d stuck to her guns and met him for lunch instead of an early dinner, she’d be long over her misery by now.

  His lips were moving, but she’d tuned him out thirty minutes ago. He looked at her like he expected a response. She forced a smile.

  “Pardon me?”

  “I asked what it would take to make you famous. Wouldn’t you like to be an anchor on the national nightly news?”

  “Maybe someday. I have to earn my way into a position like that. This is only my second news job and it’s technically part-time. I’ve got a lot of dues to pay first.”

  “But all you need is one big story to send you to the top, right?”

  “It really doesn’t work that way.” She repositioned the green beans into the letter “L.” Loser.

  Richard Fredtoni had spent most of the evening talking about himself and how, as the new financial officer for the county, he could salvage the financially strapped district. She’d asked him for details, pressed for specifics. But he circumvented each question with a lot of hot air. She’d studied the county budget and knew its weaknesses. He spoke as if he’d not looked at one line-item. If he had a plan, it didn’t have any teeth.

  She hadn’t been able to get him to reveal what the county was paying for his so-called expertise, either. Now that would make a good news story. But instead, he droned on like a bee trapped between the glass and window screen and the interview she’d hoped to record in her notebook had dissolved into doodles.

  “You’ve hardly touched your dinner,” he said. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Not really. It was very good though.” In truth, Chez Cher’s was her favorite seafood restaurant and the salmon had been expertly seasoned. Well worth the hour drive. She loved the main dining room’s seashore motif with its small, round, intimate tables, and the subtle sounds of waves crashing that piped softly through the acoustical system. If she closed her eyes, she could almost smell the ocean.

  With the right dining partner, the restaurant was the perfect prelude for a romantic evening. But Richard sure didn’t fit the bill. Would he notice if she covered her ears to muffle the whine of his words?

  “How about another drink?”

  Valerie shook her head. She’d made sure to sip only one glass of white wine. A tiny voice nagged her that something about him was out-of-sync, and she usually listened to that voice. She’d felt it in his initial weak, clammy handshake weeks ago. She’d seen it in his smile that looked too much like a leer. And he was perspiring, despite the room’s comfortable temperature. She didn’t trust him.

  Why the heck had she agreed to go out with him? Her boring — make that non-existent — social life must have seemed exceptionally bad this morning when she agreed to this meeting. That’s all it was, a meeting between two professionals. It fell way short of a date.

  “Would you like some dessert?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Richard signaled for the check and she said a silent prayer of thanks. As she reached for her purse, he offered to walk her to her car.

  • • •

  Sitting alone at the bar, Adam Michaels watched the couple. He’d recognized Valerie Daniels the minute she walked into the restaurant. A group from her radio station had toured the agency last year and he’d noticed her then. Striking good looks, runner’s legs, and a killer smile that had weakened his knees.

  He’d tried flirting with her, but she blew him off by saying she’d call him. She never did. He became an avid listener to her morning radio show after that, despite being a devout country music fan.

  Valerie rarely talked about her personal life on the air. On the few occasions she mentioned a fun-filled weekend or wonderful dinner, he wondered about the man she likely spent it with.

  Her demeanor tonight, though, told him she wouldn’t be talking about this dinner date unless it was begrudgingly. Observing body language was second nature to him, even when he wasn’t on duty or working undercover, and hers spoke volumes. She checked her watch every two or three minutes. She followed every new diner with her eyes, paying more attention to them than the guy across from her. And whatever was on her plate had to be mush by now. She’d shoved it around enough with her silverware. Whoever this guy was, he had struck out.

  As Valerie and Mr. Loser walked out of the restaurant, Adam checked the time himself. He should probably hit the road, too. It hadn’t been that good a night for him either. Ending his latest relationship had been ugly, despite the public place he’d chosen to give her the news. Asking that woman out had been a big mistake. He liked a woman who depended on him, but she had been downright suffocating.

  He needed a clear head for the five o’clock meeting tomorrow morning with the brass. Christ, who held meetings at five in the morning? It was a good thing they summoned his partner as well or he’d be worried his ass was in trouble again. Neither of them had a clue about the topic of the mandatory, top-secret session.

  He finished his beer, paid his tab and walked outside, pulling up his jacket collar against the night air. For a place as popular as this one, the parking lot was poorly lit. He stepped carefully into a gravel area set apart from the main lot and designated for overflow cars, aware of crunching pebbles under his heels.

  Several parking spots ahead, he saw two outlines in the shadows. Were they making out in the parking lot? Not the most romantic spot, but his track record with women proved he didn’t know much about romance. He’d walk by as quietly as the stones beneath his feet would let him.

  Then he heard the scream.

  • • •

  Richard waited while Valerie dug into her purse for her keys. She touched the unlock button on the keyless remote, forced a smile, and turned toward him.

  “Thank you for a nice evening.”

  He reached out and caressed her cheek. “Are we going back to your place or mine?”

  Valerie jerked her face away from his hand. What the hell? “I’ll call you.” No smile of any kind, this time.

  “I don’t think so.” He grabbed her shoulder and forced his body against hers. “I didn’t just spend one-hundred dollars on you to get a goodnight kiss at the car.”

  The air rushed from her lungs when he pushed her against the door. He made a clumsy grab at her breast, yanking at her clothes, and leaned in to kiss her. Her neck muscles strained as she pulled her head back to avoid his lips. Stale beer breath assaulted her nose.

  “Let me go,” she hissed. Using the car for leverage, she balled her fists and slammed them into his mushy stomach. His sour breath expelled in a whoosh but he pushed harder. She was at least six inches shorter and, suddenly, small and vulnerable.

  With both hands he captured her arms and dragged them to the top of the car roof, pressing her breasts into his chest. Cool air kissed exposed skin as her shirt pulled free from her waistband. She struggled against his clamped fingers, feeling her watchband cut into her wrist.

  He leaned forward again to kiss her. Again, she pulled back, exposing her neck to his mouth. Nausea rose in her th
roat when his kiss left warm slobber on her skin. His knee wedged between her legs as he pressed his full weight against her. His erection dug into her thigh.

  Oh God! She couldn’t breathe. She squinted and scanned the parking lot. Not a soul in sight. She was alone. There was no one who could help. The door handle dug into her lower back. Pain surged the length of her spine as his hot mouth kissed her ear. Surely he wouldn’t …

  “This isn’t the way I wanted it, but you must like it rough,” he growled, low and slow, like a crazed dog.

  Valerie tightened her leg muscles and arched her back to push him off, but there was no budging him. Sweat soaked through her blouse as she struggled.

  “Let me go,” she screamed. “Get off me you, moron.”

  Richard sank his teeth into her shoulder. And then pain, sharp, quick, biting pain. She screamed again.

  • • •

  Adam ran toward the scream and saw the scuffle. He grabbed the bastard by the shoulders, yanked him backward and threw him, hard, against the car parked in the next space. Glancing quickly at the woman, he didn’t recognize her. Her head was down and she clung to the car. Her shirt was ripped and with each heave of her chest, her left breast exposed itself in the dim light. A pitiful croak escaped her.

  The sound infuriated him and he turned again to the asswipe trying to catch his breath against the car. Two quick shots to the face, the last jab directly against his mouth.

  “The lady said no, pal.” He’d taken enough self-defense classes to anticipate a reaction. With clenched fists and bent knees, he stepped in front of the woman, ready for the lunge. The night air cut into his lungs.

  The guy steadied himself on the car and raised one arm. “You’re interfering with private business,” he panted. “My wife and I like to playact. Everything’s fine.”

  Adam couldn’t see his face clearly but sweat pooled on the man’s upper lip. A husband wouldn’t be that worked up. Why wasn’t the wife saying something?

  “Is that right ma’am?” Adam asked over his shoulder. She was still trying to catch her breath. A trembling hand touched him between the shoulders.

  “No. Please don’t leave,” she croaked. “He was trying to rape me.”

  The fool lunged at Adam and that was all the invitation he needed. He threw his right fist into the left side of the asshole’s face, scraping his knuckles on his teeth. The blow knocked him back against the car and down to the ground. He reached to grab Adam’s leg, but Adam kicked his arm away, dropped down on one knee and punched him in the face a second time.

  “Stay down if you know what’s good for you,” he warned. He hoped he didn’t. He wanted more of this creep.

  The man exhaled, laid his head on the cement and closed his eyes.

  Adam flexed his right hand, noticing blood on his already stiffening knuckles. When was the last time he’d been in a fight? He couldn’t remember, but this was kind of exhilarating. The guy didn’t look like he was going to move so Adam stepped to his left to help the woman. Only then did he recognize Valerie, trembling and struggling to regain her composure. Her face was streaked with tears and makeup. A huge blotch of blood spotted her neck. Had the bastard bit her? If she were in shock, she’d react violently if he touched her. He slowly raised his hand toward her shoulder.

  “Don’t touch me,” she screamed, pushing away his hand.

  “It’s all right, ma’am.” He deliberately kept his voice level. “I’m not going to hurt you. I was just going to cover you up.”

  Her eyes followed Adam’s. She gasped when she saw her breast hanging out of her ripped blouse. Her hand shook as she yanked at the fabric to cover herself.

  “Do you want to press charges, ma’am?”

  “No,” she said too loudly, looking at him for the first time. Her eyes looked wild. “No, please. No police.”

  “I’m sort of the police, ma’am. I could be your witness.”

  • • •

  Valerie shook her head emphatically. Oh God. There couldn’t be an official report. The competing radio stations would have a field day if they knew she had dinner with a county consultant and it had gone bad. This was just a business meeting, but what if Richard twisted the evening into a date that she’d proposed? It was unethical to date someone you worked with, whether at the station or in the regular course of business. She’d be fired, her dreams of becoming a successful newswoman dashed.

  Her stomach turned as she looked toward Richard. “I don’t want to report this to the police. He won’t come near me again. If, if he does, I won’t hesitate to call the police.

  “Please,” she repeated, looking up at Adam. “I don’t want anyone to know this happened.”

  On the ground, Richard’s coat buttons scraped the pavement when he moved. She gasped but Adam stepped in front of her again, his fists clenched.

  Richard held out his hands and mumbled “no more.” He pushed up on one knee and used the car to rise to his feet.

  “This was a mistake, Valerie,” he said, wiping blood from his mouth and nose. “A big mistake.” He stumbled away swearing at a foursome in the parking lot who walked into his path.

  Adam looked at Valerie. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

  He towered over her by more than a foot. But his height didn’t pose the threat that Richard’s had. She relaxed against the car. “No. I just want to go home.”

  “You really should report this.”

  Her teeth clenched. She was trying desperately to hold it together, and he wasn’t helping. Tears threatened to spill and that would be her undoing. She took a deep breath.

  “No, please.” Had he heard her? It was barely a whisper. “No police.”

  He stared at her as if debating whether to argue the point. Then his shoulders relaxed. “Where are your keys?”

  “I, I don’t know. I must have dropped them.”

  Adam knelt on the ground, running his hands over pebbles and dirt. In the dark, he couldn’t find them.

  “I have a flashlight in my car. Wait here, I’ll get it.”

  She nodded, refusing to look at him, and he ran to his car. She saw him running back when she drove out of the parking lot, her knuckles white as she clutched the steering wheel and sped home. She willed her eyes not to water until she’d driven into her garage and turned off the engine. Then she dropped her head to the steering wheel and cried.

  Jesus! She was almost raped!

  She eased out of the car on shaky legs and walked through the garage door into the kitchen. Tossing her purse on the counter, she kicked off her heels and went into the adjacent half-bath. A blotch of crusted blood and the start of purple discoloring marked the spot where he’d bitten her. It throbbed in time with the pounding in her head.

  Trembling, she fingered her broken bra strap and assessed the ripped sleeve of her blouse. It was ruined. She leaned against the sink, taking deep breaths, counting out loud. She’d read once that was a way to force your body out of a trauma.

  “One.”

  “Two.” Don’t pass out.

  “Three. Four.” She dropped her head back and winced as the broken skin tightened.

  “Five. Six.”

  She forced her trembling legs to move and carefully walked to the freezer, using the wall, the chair back and the counter for support. She reached for the bottle of vodka, popped the stopper and filled a shot glass with the thick, chilled liquid. She threw it back in a single swallow. The heat of the alcohol sliding down her throat steadied her nerves.

  Closing her eyes immediately brought the feel of Richard’s hands and mouth on her, and she shuddered. She ran to the master bathroom and took a long, hot shower, letting the beating water work the tension from her muscles. Gingerly, she stepped from the shower on legs that still quivered.

  Despite the al
cohol and the soothing hot water, her hand shook as she smeared antiseptic ointment on her neck. The healing salve pinched and burned.

  She wrapped herself in the fat folds of her oversized cotton bathrobe and padded barefoot to the kitchen for one more jigger of vodka. Without it, she wouldn’t be able to sleep.

  After crawling into bed, she propped the pillows against the headboard and leaned back, staring at the opposite wall. The whole evening was like a bad dream. She started to tremble just reliving the events in her mind. If only she could tell someone who would help her sort everything out. But it was better if no one knew.

  She didn’t dare even tell her brother. Like most twins, they shared a bond closer than the average brother and sister. Vince was nine minutes older and her protector from her first memories. He would surely go after Richard if he found out what happened. His temper rivaled hers.

  She swallowed the second vodka and placed the empty glass on the nightstand. Pulling the bed sheet and blanket up to her neck, she sank deeper into the pillows and closed her eyes. She wanted to forget tonight had ever happened.

  She had a moment’s pang over the man who helped her. She hadn’t even thanked him. But when she’d moved her foot and heard her keys scrape the cement, her only thought was to get the hell out of there. It was lucky he didn’t recognize her. Thank goodness she would never see him again.

  To purchase this ebook and learn more about the author, click here.

  In the mood for more Crimson Romance?

  Check out The Envelope

  by R. Sue Oleson

  at CrimsonRomance.com.