Need Me (Dark Obsession 3)

She’d had the cab just…drive for about an hour. An hour while she sat huddled in the back, trying to get up the nerve to return home. But, finally, Julianna had realized she couldn’t hide any longer.

She’d finally gone home. The cab pulled away even before Julianna opened the door to the Smith estate. She twisted the key in the lock and then turned the knob. The cold had her teeth chattering as she hurried inside. She turned off the beeping alarm and reached for the lights.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

The voice came from the darkness behind her. Far, far too close. She started to whirl toward that voice, but hard hands grabbed her and shoved her forward, banging her head against the nearest wall.

She hit hard, but Julianna didn’t stay down. Not again. Not ever again. She gripped her keys between her fingers, turning them into sharp weapons, and she lunged up, whirling toward her attacker. She drove the keys at him just as hard as she could.

He swore and jumped back. It was so dark, she couldn’t see where he’d gone. The looming shadows stretched everywhere she turned. “Stay away from me!” Julianna yelled, lunging out with her keys. But she just hit air and—

Laughter. Cold chilling laughter came from the darkness.

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” that low voice rasped. “You were supposed to be with the new lover. But since you are here…” He lunged from the darkness and slammed into her. She drove her keys at him and heard his howl of pain, but he grabbed her wrist, her right wrist and twisted.

She screamed as agony shot through her.

“Still weak, isn’t it?” He had her pinned against the door. They’d crashed back into the wood. “If I apply just a little more pressure, I bet it’ll break again.”

She froze.

“Like I was saying…” He laughed. “Since you’re here, I can go ahead and get rid of you now.”

He’s going to kill me.

She had no idea who the guy was or why he was in her home—or why he was going to kill her, but she wasn’t going down easily.

He had her right wrist locked in his hands, but her legs were free, and he should be paying more attention to them. Your mistake. As hard as she could, Julianna drove her knee into his groin. His hold tightened on her wrist—tightened and snap.

She felt the bone break even as he howled in pain once more and stumbled back. She tore away from him and ran—not out the front door because he was right there. She ran into the nearest room, the den. She slammed the door. Threw the lock and hit the light switch. As the bright light flashed on in that room, Julianna dragged the closest piece of furniture over to block the door. The furniture she grabbed was a big, sturdy leather chair. Jeremy’s favorite chair. She heaved and pushed and—

The door shuddered beneath the powerful boom of her attacker’s fists. “You bitch!” He yelled. “Open this damn door!”

The hell she would. If she opened that door, Julianna knew she was a dead woman. With her left hand, she managed to yank out her phone. Her right hand was limp, useless, and pain radiated from her wrist.

The whole door shook. “Open. The. Door!”

“Nine-one-one…” A voice answered on the other end of the line. “What is the nature of your emergency?”

The door cracked.

“There’s a man in my house!” Julianna yelled, wanting the bastard out there to know she was calling the cops. “He attacked me—hurry, hurry get here—”

Silence. The door had stopped shaking. A long crack slid from the middle of the door all the way to the top. The sound of Julianna’s heaving breaths filled the room.

“Ma’am?” The operator said, voice sharp. “Ma’am, are you still with me?”

She was, for the moment. Julianna rattled off her address. “I don’t hear him now.” She inched toward the door. “Maybe he’s gone.”

“Ma’am, I have police personnel en route.” A pause. “Are you in a secure location?”

That crack in the door was so long.

“I-I think so.” She leaned closer to the door, straining to hear the sound of footsteps or anything on the other side. “I think he’s gone. It’s so quiet now and—”

“You fucking bitch…” A low snarl, one that she almost thought she’d imagined. “I’m not done with you.”

Then…footsteps. Rushing away. The sound of the front door opening. The beep of the alarm.

“Ma’am?” The nine-one-one operator prompted. “Are you all right? Are you safe?”

Julianna shook her head. No, she wasn’t safe. Heather was locked up but whoever that man had been…he’d wanted to kill her. She was as far from safe as it was possible to get. “Please hurry,” Julianna whispered and then she put the phone down. She left it on because weren’t you supposed to do that? Always keep the line open or something? But she needed a weapon so she backed away. Her gaze flew to the bar. All of the wine was gone—the cops had confiscated all of the drinks there during their investigation, when they’d been testing everything to see if she might have been drugged.

And no drugs had turned up in the wine bottles.

But glasses were still there. Julianna grabbed one of the wine glasses and she slammed it into the side of the bar. The crash of the shattering glass chilled her. She held up the jagged edge of the wine glass, struck by a sense of déjà vu. There was something so familiar about it…

Her fingers tightened around the stem. If that man came back, if he got through the door, he’d be the one bleeding.

Just as Jeremy had bled. Right in this room. Just a few feet away.

She couldn’t suck in a deep enough breath. Couldn’t calm her racing heartbeat. Nausea swirled in her stomach, probably from the pain of her broken wrist or maybe just from the terrible, gut-wrenching fear that she felt.

She could almost convince herself that she wasn’t alone in that room. That Jeremy’s ghost was there, laughing at her.

Laughing, the way her attacker had laughed. That cold, chilling sound.

The alarm was still beeping. No, shrieking now. How much longer would it be before the cops

arrived? How much damn longer?

Chapter Eleven

Julianna’s front door was wide open, and the shriek of the mansion’s alarm blared into the night. Devlin ran up the steps and into the dark house. “Julianna!” he roared as fear closed around his heart like a cold fist. “Julianna, where are you?” After he’d made his phone call, uncertainty had gnawed at him. He’d just had to leave… he’d needed to make certain that she was safe. A phone call wouldn’t have been enough. Devlin had needed to see her.

From what he could see right then, no, Julianna wasn’t safe. Not at all.

“Julianna!” He hit the light switch. He’d seen it the last time he was there, a few feet away from the entrance. Illumination flooded the scene. The first thing he saw was the keys. They were just tossed on the floor. He frowned at them—the keys meant Julianna was there—then his gaze shot around the house.

When he saw the door, a door that appeared to have been fucking pounded by someone, his heart seemed to stop. “Julianna!” This time, her name was a roar as he raced to that door—the door that he knew led into the den. He grabbed the knob, but it was locked. “Julianna, are you in there?” He lifted his leg and slammed his foot into the door, aiming for the lock and doorknob. He’d bust that damn thing down and get to her.

He heard sirens outside, the cry still distant but coming closer. He lifted his leg and kicked again and—

“Stop it!” Julianna’s cry. High and desperate. “Leave me alone! The cops are coming! Just leave me alone!”

“It’s Devlin.” He stopped kicking that door. He put his hand on the cracked surface of the wood, wishing that he could be touching her. “Baby, it’s me. Open the door for me.”

“D-Dev?” Then there was a gasp and a thud.

“Julianna!” She was scaring the hell out of him.

The door knob turned and she swung open the door. She had a broken wine glass in one hand. She didn’t reach out to him, just stood there, her body trembling. “He said I shouldn’t be here.”

He grabbed her in his arms and pulled her close. She was warm and soft and alive. “Baby…”

The sirens were getting closer.

“H-he could still be here.” She pushed against him. “Come into the den with me. We’ll lock the door again. We’ll stay safe. He couldn’t get to me.” She was talking far too fast. “I locked the door and put Jeremy’s chair in front of it. He couldn’t get to me.”