Page 78 of Putting Out
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“Hey, Tessa, it’s me. I know you’re not going to pick up. But I had to call and say again I’m sorry. I’m sorry for whatever I did to make you write me off.” Kenny sighed. “I guess that’s it. Things are going good down here. Really good. Reilly is taking it to a whole new level. I don’t know how to say I’m proud of her without sounding like an idiot. But I am. I know it’s unlikely you would come, but I thought maybe I could get a ticket for you. You could come down and see the tournament live. You used to love to watch me play when you came out to Stanford to visit.”
Of course, that was back when she used to love him. Back when it was something he’d taken for granted.
“Anyway, let me know if you’re interested. My thing with Erica is over. Not that you care and not that you coming here has to mean anything. You could come as a friend. A pal. Something. I guess I can’t handle the idea that we could be something for twenty years and then nothing. I don’t want to be nothing with you.”
Kenny pulled the cell from his ear and ended the connection. He leaned on the rail of the veranda and looked out over the marshland. A bunch of tiny little tributaries all winding their way toward the same river.
A few small boats drifted along the surface. One lazy guy was stretched out in his boat. A pole in hand, letting it dangle in the water, he clearly had no intention of catching anything but a nap. Kenny hated anyone who looked so relaxed when he was tied up in knots.
Turning away from the window he tried not to think about her. He hoped Tessa would listen to the message. He hoped she would come. Then it occurred to him if she did come, he was actually going to have to call Erica to let her know things were over. He was pretty sure she’d figured it out, they hadn’t spoken in weeks, but a man couldn’t be too careful about such things.
The rest was in Tessa’s hands.
* * *
So not that bedroom.The brother was in that bedroom. He drifted along in the water past the house and slowly, lazily, as if he was birdwatching, he raised his binoculars again.
The one to the right? Or to the left?
The right. It looked bigger and she would have the best room in the house.
A pulse of water shifted the boat, as a speedboat blew by him, but he kept his gaze steady on the window.
He considered the security and decided there might be a home alarm, but it shouldn’t matter. It’s not as if he planned to get caught.
* * *
In her dreamsshe was on the beach back in Florida and the waves were spraying at her feet. The hiss of the water as it crashed along the sand resonated. Strange, she loved that sound but in her dream it worried her.
Frightened her.
Not liking the dream, she forced herself back to consciousness. Something was wrong. The spraying sound from her dream was still there. Louder. Real. In her room.
Reilly opened her eyes and saw a figure standing across from her bed facing the wall. It was a fear every woman lived with. That someday the odd bump in the night would be an actual intruder. He was in her room, not moving toward her, which didn’t make sense, but he was real.
As real as the sound of the spraying.
She tried to suck air into her lungs so she could scream for help, but her throat wouldn’t work and her lungs seemed to be frozen in ice. She didn’t want to move and startle him, but she had to imagine he would come for her.
There were men in the house. Luke was traveling again and wasn’t expected back until early tomorrow, but Pierce, Odie, and Kenny were all home. All she had to do was scream and they would come running.
What was he doing? What was that noise?
The questions helped her to work through the paralysis of fear. She could feel the air coming back into her lungs. She waited another beat until she was sure she would be able to make a loud enough noise to bring the house down.
But when she tried to push the air past the restriction of her lungs and beating heart, all that came out was a pitiful whimper.
“He…”
The intruder whipped around. Reilly scrambled against the headboard kicking her legs free of the sheets. He stood motionless as if he was as surprised as she was. He wore all black from head to toe and over his head he wore a mask with goggles. She could see an object in his hand but the shape of it didn’t register.
“Hel…” she tried again and cringed at how pathetically weak she sounded.
“Get out!”
This time he looked to the French doors.
