Читать книгу Warrior Without A Cause - Nancy Gideon - Страница 7

Glass.

Shards glittered like scattered gems upon the hardwood floor as dim light from the hallway shifted across them. Closing her apartment door behind her, a puzzled Tessa D’Angelo reached for the wall switch. When the impotent click yielded no welcome home glow, she put it together. Exasperation made a bleak addition to her already heavy mood.

“Tinker, doggone it. I’m going to line a pair of gloves with you.”

Taking a cautious step into the darkness, she heard crunching beneath the low heels of her sedate black pumps. She bent to assess the damage, half hoping for the best but discovering the worst. The heirloom lamp meant to light the way into her apartment with its warm rainbow glow lay on its side, the Tiffany shade in pieces atop the littering of her mail.

Sighing wearily, she pictured the scenario: Tinker, her battle-scarred rescue cat, jumping up onto the table by the door as he heard her come down the hall, eager to greet her as he did each evening. She could envision the hefty feline losing his declawed footing on the forgotten bills Tessa had stacked there awaiting a trip to the mailbox. Tinker’s scrambling leap had sent the lamp crashing to the floor. What a fitting end to her melancholy day. She closed her eyes against the sudden swell of anguish. A dark apartment with only a stray cat to miss her. Her treasured link to family in pieces just like her well planned future.

Tears that had crowded for release all afternoon burned against the backs of her eyes. For a moment she let her shoulders hunch beneath the weight of her grief as a tremor shook them. It wasn’t about the lamp or the dreams now denied her. She’d just buried her father and she’d never heard him say he loved her.

A deafening silence filled her apartment. The same stillness had followed the thud of that first clod of dirt atop her father’s coffin.

In that void of sound, in the part of her mind not shut down by loss, she acknowledged the stir of seemingly trivial questions. Why hadn’t she heard the lamp fall as she approached her door? Why wasn’t a recalcitrant Tinker here to weave through her legs in a purring demand for attention and supper.

Odd…

From the back rooms of her apartment, she heard a soft scuffling. Probably Tinker scooting under the bed in hopes of escaping her wrath. Tessa dragged in a cleansing breath. Life goes on. So she’d been told by the faceless mourners who’d squeezed her hand in sympathy even as they feasted on the tease of scandal surrounding the day’s solemn circumstances. Hypocrites in friends’ clothing. But they were right. Time to carry on with what still needed to be done. And the first thing was to clean up the mess on her floor. She righted the lamp and reached to check the bulb. It was gone.

Not broken. Gone.

She frowned over the puzzle, then understanding clicked on like that proverbial missing light bulb.

Someone had removed it.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tessa caught a flash of movement, too large to be the approach of her forgiveness-seeking cat. She raised her head, noting the sight of creased trousers before her world exploded in pain.

She hit the floor hard, registering only darkness and a paralyzing swell of panic. The tinny taste of blood filled her mouth as she cried out, hoping to touch some chord of mercy in her unseen assailant.

“Take whatever you want. Just don’t hurt me.”

Fingers fisted cruelly in her hair, twisting to wring a whimper from her.

And then she heard that voice.

“You should have thought of that before you started poking around where you don’t belong. You won’t like what you find. Stop now or your pretty momma will be crying over you, too.”

He cracked her head against the hardwood to punctuate his point. Blackness welled but didn’t take her completely under. Not then.

Not until much later.